Gilded Cage: A Dark Romance

by Zoe Blake

  “Yes! I can’t believe I got accepted. It was a snap decision to come to London to go to school after I lost my parents.”

  “I’m sorry to hear about your parents. How did they die?”

  I waved his condolences off. “It’s fine. It was a year ago. Car accident. I’m fine,” I assured him dismissively.

  I had already embarrassed myself enough in front of him for one day, the last thing I needed to do was to start crying about my dead parents and blabbering on about my guilt over them thinking my life had no direction when they died suddenly. It was why I was now in London. They’d hated the idea of me becoming an actress with nothing to fall back on, so I decided to get a degree in my second love, fashion.

  Richard gave my shoulders a conciliatory squeeze. It felt good to walk by his side, the heavy feel of his arm on my body.

  Looking up at him, my brow furrowed. “Wait. I don’t remember telling you I was a fashion student?”

  He laughed. “You were pretty shaken up after that near miss with the cab. You mentioned it when you complimented my coat.”

  Laughing, I figured it must be true. I barely knew what side was up between the scare of the cab and the attentions of the hottest man I had ever laid eyes on. I was lucky I remembered my own name.

  Oh, yeah!

  “Off the subject but… my name is technically Elizabeth but everyone calls me Lizzie.”

  Richard stopped walking.

  What did I say wrong?

  Taking my chin in his hand, he tilted my head back. I was quickly learning he liked doing this. I think he wanted to make sure he had my complete attention. As if it were possible to focus on anything but him when he was around!

  “If everyone calls you Lizzie, then I’m going to keep calling you Elizabeth.”

  My mouth opened at the declaration.

  Richard leaned in close. Once more today, I could feel the caress of his warm breath against my lips.

  “The last thing I want is for you to mistake me for everyone else.”

  Leaning back, he took my hand and pulled me along. The quiet evening was shattered by the chaotic thumping of my heart in my ears.

  This time, when he was greeted like a king at Milos, I didn’t even bat an eyelash.

  Of course he was.

  Milos was an unbelievably posh Greek restaurant near the museum. The only reason why I knew this was because celebrities were often photographed dining here. There was no way I could ever afford to eat here. I was about to object, since I assumed we would be splitting the check. As I opened my mouth to speak, Richard looked down at me and squeezed my hand, tight. I could see the silent warning in his gaze. Feeling as though he read my mind and I had somehow offended him by even considering the possibility he would let me help pay, I kept quiet.

  Following the hostess, we passed under these massive glass-sphere chandeliers. They looked like giant shimmering bubbles, as if the whole room were inside a glass of champagne. Walking through the dining room, I couldn’t help but notice all the extremely well-dressed patrons. Dolce & Gabbana, Valentino, Givenchy, Balenciaga, Dior; it was a who’s who of all the famous fashion houses.

  Pulling my large purse protectively in front of me, I reached down to tug on the soft fabric of my over-the-knee boots.

  Richard gave my hand a squeeze as he winked at me. “I think you look beautiful.”

  Once again it was as if he read my mind. What was even crazier was I believed him. Throwing my shoulders back, I added a little sass to my walk as I followed him through the dining room up a set of stairs.

  Servers were rushing past us carrying place settings and chairs while we got several strange looks from guests filing out, carrying their own wine and martini glasses. Some looked curious while others just plain annoyed or angry. When we entered the room, I could see why.

  The entire long room was floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the main dining room. It was obvious the restaurant had cleared it out for Richard, despite it being filled with diners.

  Tugging on his hand, I waited till he leaned down to whisper, “Did they really clear out this room just for you?”

  His only response was a smile and another wink.

  We were seated at the far end, as I slid onto the high-backed black leather chair, I leaned over to look out the nearest window. I could just see the arms of the bartenders as they vigorously shook shiny silver cocktail shakers below. The room must jut out right over the bar. With the champagne bubble lights at eye level it felt almost as if we were floating.

  A waiter wearing a crisp white shirt with a long black apron approached our table. As he handed each of us our menus, he greeted Richard warmly in Greek. “Καλησπέρα σας κύριε. Είναι πολύ ευχάριστο να ξαπλώσετε ξανά μαζί μας.”

  “Καλησπέρα, Νικόλας, πώς είναι ο πατέρας σου;” responded Richard smoothly as he opened the menu.

  What? The man speaks Greek?

  “Πολύ καλά, κύριε, θα είναι ευχαριστημένος που ξέρει ότι ρωτήσατε γι ‘αυτόν. Αυτό το βράδυ, αφρώδες ή αδιάκοπο νερό;” responded the waiter.

  “Αφρώδης,” answered Richard.

  “Very good. Would you care to hear the specials?” asked the waiter in English as he poured water in both of our glasses.

  Richard turned to me. “Do you have a preference or should I just order for us both?”

  Taking the cloth napkin off the table, I flipped it onto my lap in what I hoped was a sufficiently cavalier yet sophisticated manner. Shrugging, I replied, “I trust you. Order what you like.”

  Richard nodded then turned to the waiter. What followed was an animated conversation in Greek discussing what I could only assume were the menu options. They could have been talking about the latest football match for all I knew.

  Feeling more than a little self-conscious, I picked up my water glass and took a sip and started to choke a little bit. I wasn’t expecting it to be sparkling and the bubbles tickled my nose.

  Richard placed a soothing hand on my back as he sent me a questioning look. Waving him away, I cleared my throat and tried not to draw any more stupid attention to myself. The good thing was he kept his hand on my back, slowly rubbing it in small circles. I leaned into his touch a bit.

  It wasn’t like I had never been to a fancy restaurant before but this was a far cry from the typical nice steakhouses I was used to in America. Strangely though, every time I felt overwhelmed or a little out of my depth, Richard would flash me a quick smile or wink or squeeze my hand and suddenly everything felt right again.

  As long as he said it was okay, it must be okay.

  This must be what women usually liked about dating older men. This feeling as though they were in control. It was so much more pleasant than having to be the one to decide all the time.

  What do you want to do?

  I don’t know, you choose.

  Where do you want to eat?

  I don’t care. You decide.

  Not with Richard; he not only chose the restaurant, he decided what we would eat as well. At that very moment, he and the waiter were having a lively conversation over a second smaller menu which I figured was the wine list. I could get used to this whole ‘the man taking charge’ thing. How exciting to have a man actually plan out a date, and an impromptu one at that!

  Wonder what he’ll plan for our second date?

  Perhaps I was getting a bit ahead of myself but I really liked him and considering he took me to the museum and now dinner, he must be at least interested in me. Let’s not forget the hard cock pressed against your back earlier, my traitorous mind interjected. My thighs clenched as I squirmed in my seat. The feel of the soft leather against the back of my thighs certainly didn’t help matters.

  “Is your chair uncomfortable? Should I have Nikolas bring you another?”

  “No! No! I’m fine,” I sputtered as I grabbed my water g
lass and took a pretend sip to cover my embarrassment. Judging by the amused glint in his eyes, I swear he read my thoughts and knew their kinky bend.

  A line of five servers all dressed in the same white shirt and black apron uniform approached our table. Four of them circled around. At an invisible signal from Nikolas, a server reached over my right side and placed a champagne flute on the table, then a second one poured. Another invisible signal from Nikolas and someone on my left placed the first course in front of me.

  Then just as silently they all left.

  Pointing to the bright orange slices on my plate, Richard asked, “Are you familiar with avgotaraho?”

  “No, but it looks delicious,” I answered with genuine enthusiasm.

  I couldn’t help but watch his mouth as he explained it was sun-dried and salted roe from the grey mullet fish.

  “So, it’s basically the Greek version of caviar?”

  “Exactly.”

  Taking my fork, I mimicked Richard’s movements, as I swirled a single slice through the olive oil, pepper, and lemon zest before trying it.

  Covering my mouth as I tried to talk while still chewing, I exclaimed, “This is so good! I love it.”

  As we finished the course, Richard selected one of the bright purple edible flowers that decorated the plate and playfully placed it in my hair.

  Waiting till they cleared the plates and left, Richard caressed the skin of my forearm and leaned over. Crooking his finger, he beckoned me to lean in as well. With a conspiratorial whisper he asked, “Do you like games?”

  “Games?”

  “Yes, games.”

  “Like board games?”

  “Not exactly,” he chuckled, “more like life experience games.”

  “Like truth or dare.”

  “That’s my girl, exactly.” He gave my cheek a quick caress.

  Swoon at being called ‘his girl.’

  Lowering my voice to what I hoped was a seductive purr, I asked, “What kind of game do you want to play?”

  Richard toyed with one large curl that rested along my right arm. Remembering the sting of pain when he pulled my hair earlier and the intense images it conjured of him kneeling behind me, fucking me hard as he pulled my hair again even harder, my mouth opened slightly as I licked my lips.

  “If we play this game, you have to promise to be a good girl and do everything I tell you. No questions asked.”

  A nervous frisson had my stomach clenching.

  Licking my lips, I tried swallowing but my throat still felt too dry to speak. I could only nod.

  Richard moved his hand under the table. I nearly jumped a foot when I felt its warmth on the bare skin of my thigh.

  “I want you to take off your panties.”

  I had read about couples doing things like this but had never actually dared to do it myself. Truth be told, I’ve never dated a man confident and sexy enough to ask it of me. If any of my very limited ex-boyfriends had made such a request, I would have probably laughed.

  There was nothing amusing about the look on Richard’s face.

  His intense cobalt gaze hooked and held mine.

  “What do you say?” he demanded.

  Without thought, I replied, “Yes… sir.”

  Laying my napkin beside my plate on the table, I started to rise. His large hand encircled my narrow wrist.

  “Where are you going?”

  Confused, I sat back down again. My gaze shifted over the dining room to ensure none of the waiters had returned before ducking my head low, hiding behind my hair, and whispering, “To the bathroom to remove my panties.”

  “Here.”

  “What?”

  “I want you to remove them here. While I watch.” Each word was uttered clearly in a dark, clipped tone. I couldn’t shake the feeling I was somehow angering him by daring to question his command.

  “I… I can’t… people will see!” Looking over my shoulder, through the large windows I was admiring just a short time ago, I scanned the main dining room below. This didn’t look like tinted glass. There was no way someone wouldn’t casually look up and see me removing my panties in the middle of a posh restaurant.

  His grip on my wrist tightened.

  “Ow. You’re hurting me.”

  “And you are disobeying me.” His voice was barely above a snarl.

  With his firm grip on my right hand, I awkwardly reached up under my sweater dress with my left. Hooking the elastic band of my thong with my thumb, I lifted my ass up as I began to tug it down. With my obedience, he released my wrist and I was able to use my right hand to shimmy it past my hips.

  Looking from beneath my eyelashes, I would have sworn there were several people below watching me with rapt attention. The feeling was both humiliating and exciting in an illicit, rule-breaking way.

  Pushing the black lace thong over my thighs, I let it fall to my ankles. Reaching down, I stepped out of it, then quickly balled it up in my fist.

  “Let me see it.”

  Nervously looking around for the hundredth time, my hand shook a bit as I splayed the black lace out on my lap.

  “Tell me the truth, little one. Is it wet?”

  Groaning, I squeezed my eyes shut. My cheeks burned. I was breathing so heavily I felt dizzy.

  Feeling his finger under my chin, my head turned at his command.

  “Answer me.”

  I could only nod.

  His thumb caressed my lower lip. His voice was low and ominous when he spoke again. “I said… answer me.”

  “Yes,” I choked out.

  Richard smiled. “Good girl. Now place it on the table.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  “But they’ll see… they’ll see… they’ll know…”

  “They will see what I tell them to see.”

  Afraid not to obey, I balled the panties up and placed them on the table between us. Their black fabric a stark beacon against the white linen tablecloth.

  My hope that the waiters would not know they were panties were dashed when Richard, keeping his eyes trained on me, deliberately spread them out, displaying the unmistakable black ‘y’ of my thong.

  “We’ll have to see about getting you some proper lingerie, love.”

  It would figure Victoria’s Secret panties would be too common for a man like Richard.

  The next course arrived. I bowed my head and hid behind my curtain of hair the entire time the staff lingered over our table. My ears strained to hear a snicker or side remark.

  There was nothing. They were complete professionals, acting as if my underwear weren’t sitting there right between the wineglasses!

  After they left, I dared to peek up, I noticed the next course was fried zucchini blossoms. They looked divine and soon my nervousness over the panty game was forgotten.

  Richard sliced off a piece from the top and raised his fork to my lips. “Open your mouth.”

  My lips opened for him. The delicately salted petals of the flower hit my tongue before the tang of warm, gooey cheese. He sliced off another piece and held it just out of reach of my lips.

  “Do you want another bite?”

  “Yes,” I breathed, knowing I wasn’t answering a question about the food.

  This man enthralled me. There was no other explanation for it. His confidence and the way he took control was intoxicating.

  “Then open your legs for me.”

  Not even thinking twice, I slid my legs wider, feeling the change from warm leather to cool as I shifted in the seat.

  “Wider.”

  I obeyed. My knees were spread so wide, I had to grip the seat and lean back.

  Richard tilted the fork into my mouth.

  I ate every bite he offered, the entire time hoping he would touch me, run those large hands of his over my thighs and between my legs. I needed him to touch me.

  Finally, the dessert course arrived. The sexual torture of this dinner was almost over.

  Yoghurt with h
oney and a halved pomegranate.

  Richard dipped his finger into the creamy Greek yoghurt and lifted it to my mouth. No longer caring who was watching, I eagerly sucked the honeyed sweetness, making sure to swirl my tongue around the tip.

  His answering growl was my reward.

  Apparently two could play at this game.

  Like a baby bird, I tilted my head back and eagerly opened my mouth for the next bite. This time he took a spoon and drizzled honey straight into my mouth, making sure to coat my lips.

  “Lick them.”

  My tongue shot out to lick the gooey liquid sugar from my lips, all the while holding his intense gaze.

  “Did you know the fruit Eve ate was a pomegranate, not an apple?” he asked casually as he pried a few seeds away from their bright crimson bed.

  “I didn’t,” I responded just as casually as if we were chatting about the weather or the latest Netflix binge watch.

  Holding one seed up, Richard traced the outline of my lips, dying them a brighter pink. “Touch yourself while I feed you pomegranate seeds, my little bird.”

  For the briefest of moments, I thought about using my right hand, the one facing the windows and main dining room, but I wasn’t quite that brazen yet. Inching my fingers under the hem and along my inner thigh, I traced the seam with the tips.

  Richard placed a pomegranate seed on my tongue. The tart sweetness somehow highlighted my pleasure.

  He held another seed up. “So essentially you are eating the original fruit of temptation.”

  I sucked the tips of his fingers as I took the next seed.

  “Push a finger inside yourself.”

  Shifting my hips forward till my ass was on the edge of the seat, I pushed a single finger deep inside my pussy as I used my thumb to start circling my clit.

  “Does this game include you taking out your cock?”

  The illicit sexual game and the high I was getting from thinking people were watching us had made me bold. I don’t think I had ever uttered that word out loud before, let alone in the middle of a nice restaurant!

  “Tonight is only about you.”

  Chalk up one more reason why women probably liked dating older men. When was the last time I heard that and the guy actually meant it? My fascination with this man was starting to take on epic proportions and we weren’t even through our first dinner together.