The Queen. Tiffany Reisz

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       8

      Seven

      THEY TOOK A cab to his new place in Chelsea where Griffin had moved three months ago. Inside the apartment he tossed the keys into a silver bowl and locked the door behind them. He offered a tour of the new digs but she declined. All she wanted to see was the bedroom and the bedroom did not disappoint. His bed was a king-size, low to the ground and minimalist. Black frame—padded black leather headboard, metal slatted footboard. The headboard was for cushioning the head during rough sex. The footboard was for bondage. She gave Griffin credit—the kid could decorate like a motherfucker. The coverlet and sheets were black, red and white. Apart from the bed he had nothing much else in his room except for a black leather Chesterfield sofa, the sort of sofa one fucked on if one were the sort to fuck on sofas, which Griffin was.

      Elle stood facing the bed. Behind her, Griffin locked the door and came up to her. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the side of her neck.

      “I’m all yours,” he whispered.

      “I have to tell you something.”

      “Anything.”

      “I haven’t had sex with a man in over a year.”

      Griffin grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her around to face him. He looked at her as if she’d sprouted a second head.

      “How are you even alive? Over a year without sex? How’s that even possible?”

      “I was in a convent, Griffin. No men in convents.”

      “Then order delivery. There are people who will bring the sex to your house.”

      Elle laughed. “It’s okay. I said I hadn’t had sex with a man in over a year. I have had sex.”

      His wide eyes widened even wider. If they got any wider, they’d fall out of his head.

      “You fucked a girl.”

      “Shh...don’t tell.”

      Griffin fell sideways, collapsing on the bed.

      “Griff?”

      He rose up on his elbows. “Was she hot?”

      “She was a twenty-one-year-old virgin with small breasts and long legs. And yes, she was hot.”

      “She was a virgin until you?”

      “Yes. I fisted her our first night together.”

      Griffin gasped and looked down at his crotch.

      “Oh, my God,” he said.

      “What’s wrong?”

      “My cock twitched. I didn’t know it could do that.”

      “Can you be serious for two seconds?”

      “I am serious. It wiggled like one of those plastic flower toys that dance when you play music.”

      “I haven’t had anyone or anything inside me for a long time. I might be a little...tight.”

      “I can handle tight. I buy lube in bulk. Can we fuck now please?”

      “Not yet. You aren’t ready.”

      Griffin looked down at his crotch.

      “He just told me he’s ready,” Griffin said. “Telepathically.”

      Elle sighed. Heavily. She did want him, and his cock, but he’d agreed to bottom for her, and she wasn’t about to rush this or waste her chance. But what to do to him...?

      “You’re bi—” she said.

      “I am? Oh, yeah. I am. Sorry. I’m focused on your pussy right now. Almost forgot.”

      “You have a leather chest harness somewhere, don’t you?”

      “Maybe...somewhere...” He didn’t sound excited about the prospect of wearing one.

      “Will you wear it for me?”

      “Must I?” he asked.

      “I’ve masturbated to the thought of fucking you while you’re naked but for a chest harness.”

      “It’s in the closet, back wall, hanging on a hook next to the spreader bars.”

      She retrieved the harness and laid it on the bed next to Griffin.

      “What’s with the beard?” she asked as she ran her hand over the soft scruff on his cheeks and chin.

      “I was roughing it. Went backpacking to Clingman’s Dome with friends. Got back a couple days ago.”

      “How was the Dome?” She tugged his gray T-shirt off and threw it onto the floor.

      “I didn’t get to the top. I came home early.”

      “Why? Bored?” She slipped the harness on him and buckled it in place.

      “I checked my messages. King said you were back.”

      Elle was silent a moment. She swallowed before speaking again.

      “You came back from your trip early, because you heard I came back?”

      “Told you,” he said, shrugging. “I missed you.”

      “I didn’t think anyone would miss me. I mean, anyone but him.”

      “Søren.”

      “Yeah, him.”

      “I know this might surprise you, but I’d gotten used to the idea of thinking we were friends. Almost best friends,” he said. “I wanted us to be that and you acted like that’s what you wanted, too. Then you disappeared and you didn’t tell me where you went or why you left. So obviously we weren’t best friends if you couldn’t tell me where you were going, which is fine. That’s cool. But knowing you didn’t feel the same about me didn’t make me feel any differently about you. When King said you were back in the city, I came back the same day. And when he said he wanted me to keep an eye on you since you were, you know, going through a rough adjustment period, I said I would. Because maybe if I keep an eye on you, next time you run off I’ll know where you went.”

      Simple words and not very eloquent, yet they somehow slipped through the cracks in the hard shell she’d built around herself since leaving the convent. No, since leaving Søren.

      “Do you want to be my best friend?”

      “With benefits?” he asked.