The Queen. Tiffany Reisz

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      “Don’t lose the weight? Those are the sexiest four words anyone has ever said to me.”

      “Money money money money.”

      “Those are the other four sexiest words anyone’s ever said to me.”

      “I didn’t come to seduce you. I came to invite you to a party. Not quite an invitation. Attendance is mandatory.”

      “What sort of party?”

      “The sort of party Milady will attend. We need to see her in action.”

      “You said nobody could know I was back yet.”

      “They won’t know. You’ll be in disguise. I don’t want you leaving the house between now and then, either.”

      “Sure. Of course. Whatever you say, boss.” She added the “boss” at the end more sarcastically than she meant.

      “Don’t get pissy at me because you fucked up,” he said, wagging his finger at her.

      “I’m not pissy because I fucked up.”

      “What is it?”

      She sighed. “This is harder than I thought it would be.”

      “Being a domme?” he asked.

      “Not being a sub.”

      “Not being his sub, you mean.”

      She nodded. Reluctantly.

      “You need to face him,” he said. “The longer you wait the harder it will be. You’ve been back two weeks. It’s time.”

      “I’ll go talk to him. Soon. I promise.”

      “Not today. I don’t want anyone knowing you’re back yet. No going out. Anywhere.”

      “Fine. I’ll be good. Happy?”

      “Good, chérie, is the last thing I want you to be.”

      He chucked her under the chin and left. A few minutes later Elle heard a soft knock on her bedroom door, which meant it wasn’t Kingsley returning. He never bothered knocking.

      Elle opened the door.

      “Juliette,” was all Elle could say. Beautiful, glorious, magnificent Juliette. Even Elle got a little tongue-tied around Kingsley’s consort.

      “Calliope brought in the mail. There’s something for you.”

      “For me?” She held out her hand and Juliette passed her a thick manila envelope.

       “C’est pour toi.”

      “Thanks.” She tossed it in a drawer.

      “You aren’t going to open it?” Juliette asked, her hands lifting gracefully in a question.

      “I’ll open it later.”

      “It’s from a literary agency,” Juliette said.

      “Yeah, I know who it’s from.”

      “I didn’t tell monsieur you received any mail today.”

      Elle smiled, relieved. “Thank you for that.”

      “For years, I lived with a man who monitored any mail I received. I had no privacy. It was...unpleasant. You should have your privacy. But I think it’s wonderful you’re receiving mail from a literary agency if it means what I think it means.”

      “It means I wrote a book. But please don’t tell.”

      “Something tells me the subject will not come up. I keep monsieur on other topics,” she said with a sly smile.

      Elle liked Juliette. It didn’t take long for her to decide this was the perfect woman for Kingsley. She had a backbone of iron and a love of submission that made her the ideal consort for their king. Since Elle did like her so much she had to say what she said next or she wouldn’t be able to look Juliette in the eyes much longer.

      “Juliette, you do know Kingsley and I used to sleep together, right?”

      “He told me, oui.” Juliette seemed entirely unperturbed by the fact.

      “And we’ll probably be sleeping together again in the near future.”

      “He keeps me abreast of these sorts of things.”

      These sorts of things? Probably the tamest euphemism Elle had yet heard for Kingsley’s sex life.

      “You’re fine with that?”

      She nodded her head regally. Everything Juliette did or said looked or sounded regal. If Elle wanted to be a queen she would do well to emulate Juliette.

      “He told me what he was and what he needs. I would never deny him what he needs.”

      “Some people don’t like the thought of sharing.”

      “It isn’t sharing. Not to me. He is one man when he’s with you. Another man when he’s with me. It’s clear you care for the man who he is with you. I care for the man who he is when he’s with me.”

      “He loves pain when he’s with me. I’ll send him back to you covered in whip marks and bruises, cuts and welts. I left a lot of burns on him last year. You should be prepared for that. I mean that literally. Keep the medicine cabinet well stocked. He hates doctors. You’ll have to handle first aid.”

      “I will be prepared. In truth, I couldn’t watch while he’s being hurt, but I admit I enjoy the thought of tending to his wounds after...”

      “That’s a kink, you know. Comforting someone after a hard scene. Usually it’s the person who did the hurting who handles the cleanup, but I’ve known kinky people whose favorite thing to do was dress the wounds of masochists after a beating. Aftercare can be very intense, very intimate.” Søren had always taken good care of her after the beatings. Washing her wounds, cleaning her cuts, kissing her boo-boos away. Those were her favorite moments, when he put her back together after tearing her apart. “It’s like playing doctor or naughty nurse.”

      “I would look good in a nurse’s costume, wouldn’t I?”

      “You would look good in a brown paper bag.”

      Juliette smiled, a smile so steamy it could have fogged the windows in a parked car.

      “You break him down,” Juliette said, pointing at Elle. “And I—” she pointed at herself “—I will build him up so he’ll be ready when you break him again. Between the two of us he should be a very happy man. It’s a good plan, non?”

      “A very good plan, yes. So you think we can be friends?” Elle asked. “No СКАЧАТЬ