The Mistress

“But will you always be? Sometimes you might want the pleasantries of sex without the associated pain that comes from spending a night with him.”

“I have no interest in having vanilla sex with anybody,” she said, meaning every word. One night with Søren had ruined the idea of vanilla sex for her forever. How could she ever enjoy something so banal after discovering the primal, fearsome power of kink?

“I am certainly not talking about vanilla sex.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her fingertips. “But rest assured, there are other games to be played, ones equally savage and sensual but without the aftermath. He can’t show you that world, but I can...if you’ll allow it.”

Eleanor had looked at him then, looked at him for a long time. And she looked at him because she realized in that moment, even though she’d known him for years and considered him a friend, she didn’t know who he was.

“What are you?” she asked, not sure she knew what she meant. “To him, I mean. I know you’re friends, and I know you’ve known each other a long time and I know about her...but there’s more, isn’t there?”

Kingsley gave a soft chuckle, one that made the hair on her arms stand up.

“You’re smart,” he said, and although it was a compliment, it didn’t sound like one.

“I’m more than smart. I’m not stupid.”

“You’re standing at the edge of a rabbit hole. Are you sure you want to fall down it?”

“I’ll trade you my hole for your hole.”

Kingsley laughed then, a laugh of pure surprise.

“You...” He pointed his finger at her. “You are more than you seem.”

“I could say the same about you.”

She held out her hand and he pulled her off the sofa and straight into his arms. In seconds he had her back to the wall, his thigh pushing between her legs, and his mouth at her mouth.

With a dark-eyed smile he looked at her a moment before meeting her lips with his. The kiss started off slowly...gently...even carefully, as if Kingsley knew she teetered on the verge of spooking like a startled horse. She enjoyed the kiss, the skill of the lips, the taste of his wine-tinged tongue on hers. But still...this wasn’t Søren kissing her, but Kingsley. She’d kissed others and felt terrible about it. How was this okay? Kissing another man? How was this not cheating? As if reading her worries, Kingsley pulled back long enough to whisper, “He wants this for both of us....”

“Why?”

Kingsley gave her a seductive grin, one that nearly set her to shivering again.

“What father doesn’t want his children to play nice together? Come...let’s go play nice.”

She took his proffered arm like a lady being led to a waltz, and they said nothing on their way to Kingsley’s bedroom.

Play nice, Kingsley said. Play... Nothing to be afraid of... It’s only a game, she told herself over and over again.

Kingsley opened the door to his bedroom and she saw the dark red room illuminated by dozens of pale yellow taper candles. At the end of the bed stood Søren holding something wrapped around his hand. Tonight he’d dressed incognito—black pants, black shirt open at the neck. When he opened his fingers a dozen leather tongues of the flogger lapped at his leg.

Only a game.

Game on.

Kingsley left her side and walked to Søren.

“She’s in a better mood now,” Kingsley said, divesting himself of his jacket. Underneath the jacket he wore a white shirt and a black vest, intricately embroidered with silver thread. “She’ll be in an even better mood once we’re done with her.”

“Kingsley, remind me...didn’t we have a dream like this once,” Søren said as he raised his hand and crooked a finger at her. As slowly as she could without getting scolded, she came to stand in front of him. Her white collar sat on the end of the bed. Søren picked it up and buckled it around her neck without even looking in her eyes. He acknowledged only Kingsley’s presence as Kingsley only acknowledged his.

“Black hair and green eyes...pale like you, dark hair like me...”

“And wilder than the both of us together,” Søren finished. “How nice when dreams come true.”

“Oui, mon ami. Although she doesn’t seem particularly wild at the moment.”

“Wait and see. She might surprise you.”

Eleanor came this close to screaming at them both. Had no one ever told them it was rude to talk about someone in third person as if she wasn’t standing right in front of them? But she remembered her training and kept her mouth shut...at least for the moment.

“Let’s begin, then, oui? Who first?”

“You can decide,” he said to Kingsley, so nonchalant as if they were simply picking a wine for dinner.

“Ahh...better idea.” Kingsley reached into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out a coin. “We’ll let the coin decide tonight. Heads or tails.”

“We win both ways.” Søren ran a hand from her lips to her hips where he lingered long enough to give her an insinuating slap on the bottom. Heads or tails indeed. Staring at these two beautiful condescending, infuriating men who talked about her like she wasn’t even in the room made her want to...something. Scream? Cry? Slap them both? What was it she wanted to do to them?

Kingsley gave Søren a wink before he flipped the coin. The coin came down and Eleanor snatched it out of the air before it landed on Kingsley’s palm. The act had been unpremeditated, unplanned, and she saw from the looks on their faces, she’d managed to surprise them both.