The Virgin

“I love you,” he said, kissing her face.

“I love you, too. I didn’t want to.”

“Get used to it.”

“Loving you?”

“Yes. And doing things you don’t want to do.” He gave her a devilish grin and she laughed, a joyful laugh.

“There’s nothing you could make me do that I wouldn’t want to do,” she whispered, pressing her breasts against his chest.

“I accept that challenge.”

Juliette loved rough and brutal sex, so he gave it to her as hard as he could. And then after he held her and kissed her and when the desire for her had grown to a fever pitch again, he took off all his clothes, pulled the covers down and made love to her until she couldn’t take anymore.

He wrapped her in his arms and rolled her on top of him. She rested her head on his chest and they lay there together in his bed for a long time doing nothing but being.

Being still. Being loved. Being together.

“Tell me what I need to know,” Juliette said at last as she lifted her elegant head and looked him in the eyes.

“I can’t be faithful to you,” Kingsley said. “And it’s not for the reason you think.”

“Not because your libido is stronger than your common sense?”

“That might be part of it,” he admitted. “Also, I love having sex with men as much as women.”

“I would never keep you from that part of yourself. I might ask to watch sometimes.”

Kingsley smiled but only for a moment. Then the smile was gone.

“Do you know what the word Switch means?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“You like being hurt in bed, being dominated.” Kingsley tapped the bruise on her bottom lip that his too-eager teeth had given her.

“Very much. I need it,” she said.

“And I love hurting you and dominating you. But there are times when I want to be dominated myself, when I need to be hurt. I don’t want that to be part of us. I want to keep that part of me separate from you. From us.”

She nodded. “I can accept that.”

“Please don’t tell anyone. It’s not something I want advertised.”

“Your secrets are my secrets,” she said. “I’ll protect them with my life. There’s something you should know about me, too.”

“Tell me,” he said.

“I do want children and I’ll have yours for you. But my mother’s doctor said her condition can run in families. Can you wait a few years until I’m certain it won’t pass to me?”

“I can wait,” Kingsley said, almost relieved. After all he’d been through with Elle, and failing her like he had, he wasn’t ready to even think about being a father yet. “We should wait.”

“My mother’s symptoms started when she was a teenager, and I haven’t had any. The doctor says I shouldn’t be afraid to have children. He gave me his blessing. But still, you should know the possibility is there.”

“I’m not scared,” Kingsley said. “My parents were perfect. My childhood was perfect. And my sister still committed suicide. There are no guarantees in life. But you’re worth taking the risk for.”

“If we have a child, it might look like me.”

“You mean a girl?”

“You know what I mean.” Juliette laid her arm across his chest displaying the contrast in their skin color. He kissed her arm.

“I hope our children look like you. They would be beautiful then. I don’t want ugly children. I’m very shallow.”

She laughed to cover her tears, but Kingsley saw them anyway.

“Something else,” she said. “I don’t think I want to get married. I’ve been trapped in something too much like a bad marriage.”

“You never have to worry that I’ll force you to marry me,” Kingsley said, laughing. “Not my style.”

“And I want to work,” Juliette said. “A real job where I’m paid. I need to have my own money.”

“You can work for me. Calliope starts Columbia this fall. I’ll need a new assistant.”

“Work for you?”

“I pay very well. And it will be your money. If that doesn’t convince you...maybe the fringe benefits will.”

“I like the sound of that,” she said with a seductive smile. “I handled all of Gérard’s files in his home office. I did half his work for him. If something happened to him, I could have taken over as ambassador without missing a step.”

“You should have let me assassinate him.”

“No,” she said, tapping him on the end of the nose. “No murders. It’s a—what did you call it? Hard limit?”

“I suppose I have to respect it then.”

She kissed him on the lips, on the neck, on the chest, on the old scar that had faded along with the pain it had once given him. “One more thing, mon roi.”

“Name it,” he said.

“I want a collar,” she said.

“Why?” he asked, surprised by her request.

“You told me you’d never collared a woman. Or man. I’ll let you have your freedom to be with whomever you want to be with. But I want something in return, something you haven’t given anyone else. I need that for us.”

Kingsley bent his head and kissed her. Then he slid out from under her and grabbed his pants off the floor and pulled them on. Somewhere in this bedroom...