Little Red Riding Crop(3)
Kingsley paused for a moment to answer, “I hadn’t planned on paying for this.”
“Good. Because I’m out of your price range.” She threaded her fingers through his hair and pushed his head back down. When Kingsley laughed his rich French laugh into her, Nora gasped. One booted ankle landed on the back of the seat. There. That would give Mr and Mrs SUV behind them something to talk about.
Nora clung to the leather interior as Kingsley pushed two fingers into her and found her g-spot. She clenched around his hand as her hips rose up. He worked all the magic his French tongue had on her. The muscles in her lower back tightened. The pressure built hard and high. After a few minutes of the Kingsley Edge treatment, she came with the force of two miserable months of celibacy behind her.
Panting, she lifted her head and watched Kingsley sit up and run the back of his hand over his wet lips. She wanted to kiss him, to taste herself, to thank him for the pleasure and the attention. But he was her boss. And she’d hardly thank the man for one orgasm when he was the reason she’d gone two months without.
“Lovely,” Nora said as she pulled her leg out of the back window. “But that only makes up for about a week.”
Kingsley gave her his best French pout.
“Oh fine. Two weeks then. But it’ll take more than a backseat …” Nora paused, realizing she of all people couldn’t come up with the female equivalent of blow-job, decided to make one up, “a backseat v.j. to make up for two months of nothing.”
Kingsley sighed as he sat back and adjusted his trousers. Clearly he was in the mood to knock out another week or two.
“Please …” Nora stared at him and let the mask of the infamous Dominatrix fall off her face. “I’m tired, King. And I’m …” She couldn’t quite get the word out. Kingsley had said “frustrated.” The more accurate term would have been “lonely.”
He studied her face in silence. He must have seen the truth in her words, in her eyes. She sensed his resistance give way.
“You are a dangerous woman, Nora Sutherlin. This is the last time I employ someone more manipulative than I.”
“I learned from the best.” She smiled at him, a shallow hollow smile that covered the loneliness they both felt for the one man who could twist them both around his perfect fingers. But she wouldn’t think about him today. Or ever again.
Nora said nothing more as she watched Kingsley wrestle with what little was left of his conscience.
“One month vacation.”
Nora sagged in the seat. She could have cried with relief and kissed the French out of the man with gratitude but …
“But.”
“But? I should have known there would be a but.” Nora sat back up again and gave Kingsley’s “but” the attention it deserved.
“But I need you to do an errand first. Complete the errand successfully, and I shall tell the Underground that your services have been engaged in Europe for the next month. I’ll even send you to Europe, the country of your choice.”
Nora raised her eyebrow.
“What sort of errand is this?” To earn an entire month off plus a trip to Europe on Kingsley’s dime, Nora knew she’d probably have to kill somebody. Two months without sex and she was about ready to.
“Black Forest. I need you to go there.”
Nora’s eyes widened.
“Kingsley … that’s—”
“They are more afraid of us than we are of them.”
“Then why are you sending me instead of going yourself?”
Kingsley crossed his arms over his chest and threw his booted feet up on the seat by her thighs. His every move seemed designed to show how relaxed he was, how laid back. She didn’t buy it.
“They would never let me in. I’m the enemy.”
“And I work for you which also makes me the enemy,” she reminded him.
“Black Forest is poaching my employees. They took Mistress Irena last month.”
“I know but—”
“Hunt quit today.”
Nora had heard about Irena, Kingsley’s Russian Dominatrix, defecting to Black Forest–the only BDSM club in Manhattan that could give Kingsley’s Underground Empire a run for its money. That had hurt. But losing Hunt, the sexiest male submissive in all of New York and one of Kingsley’s many bedtime companions, that was personal.
“So I’m supposed to go there and what? Ask for Hunt back?”
“Black Forest is a mystery even to me,” Kingsley said. “No one ever gets to meet La Grande Dame. She won’t return my calls, answer my notes …”
“She’s smart then.” She’d heard of La Grande Dame or just The Dame to the Underground. The Dame was something of a shadowy figure. Kingsley positioned himself as the King of the Underground, the face of Kink. He had no shame and lived so publicly he would have traded shares of his empire on the stock exchange had the businesses been legal. But The Dame had no face and no name Nora had ever heard. She couldn’t be touched, couldn’t be influenced and, most importantly, couldn’t be seduced by Kingsley Edge.