by Eden Myles
He pushed the first ball in suddenly, and the great teasing weight made my lower stomach muscles clench. I gasped and shivered as a little orgasm fluttered through my belly. The second ball made me cry out and rub myself shamelessly against him like a cat against her master.
“Good girl,” he said again. “Rub yourself against me, Charlotte. Show me how much you enjoy this. But don’t come.”
With a groan, I rubbed myself against his hand, smearing my wetness all over him, the weighted balls teasing against my g-spot with every movement. God knows how I would walk with them inside me. “Let me come, Lachlan,” I heard myself beg in a whimpering voice I barely recognized.
He stood up and took my arm. “Not yet, my little doll. We have one more stop.” He escorted me down one last aisle.
He walked. I stumbled, clutching his arm and making little kittenlike noises.
We were in a new aisle full of crops, switches and whips. I felt myself balk a little at the sight. “You made an excellent choice last time,” he told me, bringing my knuckles to his lips to kiss in a courtly way. “You may choose your instrument of training.”
My legs were trembling and it was all I could do to stand upright. “I really don’t know.”
“Choose and maybe I’ll let you come.”
Each of the instruments lined up in their notches looked more imposing than the last. I was no expert, but there was one flail with little bits of leather at the end of it. It looked like it might not hurt too much. I pointed at it.
“The cat o’ nine tails? You really are a masochist.”
I groaned at my dismal failure. But Lachlan, wearing that shit-eating grim, pulled the cat off the rack and swished it through the air. It made more noise than I’d expected.
“Lachlan, please…” Every movement made the balls roll against my g-spot. Every gesture and breath of air made the nipple clamps smart. “Please let me come.”
He tucked the cat under his arm and set both hands on my shoulders, slowly pushing me to my knees in front of him. The balls pressed against my sweet spot; the clamps sent shocks like little electrical impulses through my body. He smiled slyly. Then he unzipped himself. “Such my cock and make me come, pretty doll. And then you may come.”
***
The place he’d chosen for dinner was called The Royal. He said that it was Society owned and run, and that it catered to mostly gentleman and their courtesans and courtiers.
I liked it. It was elegant but understated. I hadn’t dined anywhere where there were nice table linens, silverware, and candles in a very long time. A cop’s salary doesn’t allow for many luxuries. My definition of “eating out” was grabbing a pizza or a bucket of chicken. I tended to think of Mick’s as high-dining these days.
I looked at the white roses in the glass vase in the center of the table. White roses were my favorite. It distracted me a little from the maddening pressure of the Ben Wa balls still stuck up my cunt. Lachlan had given me a choice: nipple clamps off or Ben Wa balls out, but not both. I’d chosen the clamps, but now I was rethinking my decision.
I tried not to wiggle in my seat as the maitre d, who was also the owner, served us a wine that was older than I was. “I remember when we used to go by bus up to the IHOP in Tarrytown. We thought that was fine dining back then,” I laughed.
He smiled, that sexy smile that made me wilt inside, as stupid as that sounded. “We could go next date, if you like.”
“You’d take me? What about your Society friends? Wouldn’t they disapprove?”
“I like to keep a foot in both worlds.” He looked around the dining room, then seemed to spot someone he knew. “In fact, how would you like to meet one of the Society members now?” He stood up and offered me his hand. His tone of voice suggested I should probably not resist.
He led me over to a table tucked in the back, where a large, burly blond gentleman with a ponytail and his beautiful black courtesan were dining.
“Wolf,” Lachlan said, and Wolf looked up and smiled brightly. He reminded me in some ways of Lachlan—charming in a dangerous way.
“Lachlan, my friend,” he answered and stood up to shake hands.
Lachlan took the black woman’s hand and kissed the knuckles, making the whole scene feel like something out of a Jane Austen novel. “Rachaela.”
“How are you, Lachlan?”
“Well. Have you met my courtesan Charlotte?”
Rachaela, who was tall and elegant and up-town-ish, looked me over without a single iota of the disdain I was used to see in woman like herself. It surprised me, frankly. “It’s good to finally meet you, Charlotte. Lachlan talks endlessly about you.”
That surprised me too. “All good, I hope.”
“You’re lucky to have such a lovely and well groomed gentleman,” Rachaela said, and I wondered if she knew about Lachlan’s past or if she was just trying to be polite. I wondered if what Lachlan said was true and the Society didn’t judge, after all. Or maybe they just had really low standards?
While she and I chatted about our respective fields, I noticed the men’s talk had turned to things decidedly…personal. Specifically, our recent purchases at the boutique we had just visited.
“I’m partial to the cane, myself,” Wolf announced without any shame whatsoever. He lifted the rattan cane he carried. “Rachaela can be rather obstinate. But I’ve heard that gentleman have had good results with the cat. Do you have experience?”
I gritted my teeth, feeling objectified. I was surprised someone like Rachaela, who seemed a liberated woman, was content with being caned by someone like Wolf.
“Margo used a cat on me once or twice,” Lachlan explained. “I found it effective in understanding and obeying her wishes.”
Wolf observed me with cool, sly eyes. “She’s willful. I can tell. I’d be careful with this one, Lachlan.”
Lachlan reached out and brushed the back of his fingers against my cheek. “Believe me, she’s worth it.”
“The more spirited the chase, the sweeter the capture,” Wolf said.
“Exactly,” Lachlan said and placed a hand in the small of my back, forcing me to bend over the end of the table where Wolf and Rachaela were seated, my breasts, still smarting from where the clamps had been attached, smooshed against the tabletop. I immediately stiffened, but Lachlan delivered one painfully sharp blow to my buttocks with his hand, which cut off the protest that was frothing out of my mouth.
I wanted to whip around and snarl at him, but his hand in the small of my back kept me from doing so. Meanwhile, Wolf and his courtesan observed me with interest but no surprise, as if this were very commonplace among gentleman and their courtesans. They never so much as blinked even when Lachlan slid his fingers between my legs and teased one of the Ben Wa balls out. My face reddened and I tried to pretend this wasn’t actually happening to me—in public, no less.
“Titanium steel?” Wolf asked with interest.
Lachlan nodded. “Weighted to five pounds apiece.”
Wolf looked impressed even as Lachlan rolled the ball in his hand that had lately been in a very private place of mine. “How does she sit down?”
“Not easily.” Lachlan grinned before reinserting the ball. I made a little cry as he plunged it back home, almost coming in his hand, which only served to make me blush further. I tried to move, but Lachlan delivered two more sharp blows to my ass that sang in the room and left it stinging. I stopped moving.
No one in the restaurant seemed to notice—or care.
Wolf looked more interested than appalled. “You have a good technique, Lachlan. A fair but heavy hand. I look forward to your debut at the Dollhouse.”
“As do we,” Lachlan said for both of us.
Gasping and fighting the need to run like hell, I said, “Can we leave now?”
“I’m not done speaking to Wolf, Charlotte.” He grabbed the back of my hair and wrenched gently back, then pulled me down until I was heeling at his feet like a pet. “Stay.”
“No.
”
“Stay, or I’ll upgrade your training to include caning, one of the most painful punishments a courtesan can endure.”
I glared up at him from my position on my knees at his feet.
“Another thing Margo taught you?” Wolf asked.
Lachlan smiled. “Of course. It’s all in the training.”
They talked for five minutes more before Lachlan ordered me back to our table.
***
I sat over our meal of lobster bisque, trying not to look at anyone or anything but my plate.
“You’re angry,” Lachlan said after a moment.
“You’re perceptive,” I shot back.
“I want to train you properly.”
“I’m not a dog, Lachlan.”
“No,” he answered with his customary arrogance. “You’re my courtesan. As such, I expect you to behave like it.”
“I don’t understand this!” I exploded. “When we were kids, you were this punk who punched first and asked questions later.” I looked him over, his proper suit and slicked-back hair, the napkin on his knee. “You didn’t know how to use a cloth napkin then. Hell, you didn’t know how to use a fucking fork! Now you act like these…these men!” I indicated the other couples in the restaurant.
“People change.”
“Not you. You’ve become something else, Lachlan. The second coming of Marquis de Sade.”
He smirked. “And you love it.”
“What does that mean?”
He took my hand and put it in his lap. “When we were kids, you were always out to prove yourself to everyone. You had to be the tough bitch. But you don’t have to do that around me. It’s all right to be a lady, Charlotte.”
Why did I have tears in my eyes? “You’re not being fair. I had to be strong. My dad was a cop.”
“You are strong. You don’t have to prove that to me.” He sighed. “I pity your partner. How does she put up with you?”
“He puts up with me just fine.” I went back to my soup. As much as I hated Lachlan—hated the way he had degraded me in front of those people—I found I also wanted him. I was sore with wanting him. Christ, I was acting like some kind of addict. Was I turning into a sadist?
I must have mumbled that last out loud, because Lachlan said, “No. You’re a strong woman, Charlotte.” He clenched my one hand in his lap. “That’s why you don’t mind being weak.”
“That makes no sense.”
“Yes,” he said, “it does. You always want to help everyone, save everyone, a desperado riding into a lawless town with both six-shooters a-blazing…”
“Christ, you make me sound like some cowboy.”
“You may as well be, the world a burden on your shoulders. Rachaela is the same way. She runs one of the biggest magazines in the country. Has a thousand people she’s responsible for. But when she goes home, she enjoys servicing her gentleman, getting down on her knees and crawling for him. She’s strong, the woman in charge in the office. But at home she can let go and let Wolf take care of her. She says it’s like the release of a sore muscle at the end of a long day.”
I slurped my soup. I wasn’t so sure about Rachaela’s philosophy.
Lachlan watched me carefully, a half smirk on his face. “Do you want a straw and bib with that soup?”
I knew he was teasing, but it infuriated me nonetheless. It made me want to hurt him. “If I let you put a bib on me, will you give me more evidence to put Castellano away?”
Lachlan pressed his lips together. He only did that when he was really angry…really hurt. Bully for me. I had finally gotten to him. I had made him angry. Admittedly, I was acting like my usual stubborn self and it was inappropriate talk. We should have been talking about us tonight, not Castellano, but he’d gotten my defenses up. Taking his napkin from his lap, he set it down on the table and stood up. “You’re right, Charlotte. I think it’s time to go.” His words sounded so final. He offered me his hand.
I looked at it. Why did I feel bad, like I had ruined everything? “Lachlan…”
“If you don’t trust me, don’t approve of this lifestyle, don’t approve of me, then we can have no relationship. Shall I call you a cab?”
“No,” I said, standing up to meet him, “that won’t be necessary.”
I let him walk me back to the limo.
***
“It’s not that I don’t approve of you,” I explained from my seat beside him in the limo. It was dark and I couldn’t see his face; somehow, that made things easier for me. “It’s not even that I don’t trust you, Lachlan, it’s that…you’ve changed so much.”
“You say that like a bad thing.”
I thought how, really, it wasn’t. He was giving up Castellano. He’d learned proper etiquette and table manners. Not to mention he was still so smoking hot. Really, I couldn’t understand why I was being so resistant to this new Lachlan.
I tried to form a plea, couldn’t do it. Why did I always let my pride get in the way of things?
Lachlan rescued me. “You said you wanted to be my girl.”
“I do.”
“But I want you to be my courtesan.”
I chewed my bottom lip and watched the lights of the city pass. “Why me?”
He sounded surprised. “Why would I choose anyone else, Charlotte?”
“I mean…you must have had a hundred women since we were together.”
“I did,” he admitted. “Maybe more.”
My heart thudded. It hurt to hear that.
“And you couldn’t find a single courtesan among all those willing women?”
“I don’t know. I don’t remember them,” he whispered low. “I hardly ever looked at their faces when we were fucking. I only ever saw one face.”
God, why was he doing this to me? Tears filled my eyes.
“It’s human after all,” Lachlan said, brushing the tears from the corner of my eye. After a moment, he leaned down to kiss me there. He licked my tears, which just made me cry even harder.
“Give me a second chance,” I begged.
“Charlotte,” he answered, “I love you. I burn for you. I’ll give you as many chances as you need.”
***
“Holy Mother of Christ,” Roddy exclaimed with a grin as we left the interrogation room where Michael Castellano had finally broken down. Only three days in lockup, and the kid had cried, actually cried, and spilled his guts all over the floor about his uncle. Couple that with the new evidence that had been anonymously mailed to the precinct linking several pyramid corporations to Vinnie Castellano’s vast underground porn network, and the DA was building a hell of a case.
The DA, Wilma Sheridan by name, stalked by us in her four-inch Prada heels but threw over one elegantly suit-clad shoulder, “Good work, detectives! I’ll be putting in a recommendation to the chief.”
“Anytime, councilor,” Roddy shot back. He elbowed me. “How does Lieutenant Rodriguez sound, Charlie?”
“Over ambitious,” I told him, elbowing him back. We pushed each other as we continued down the hallway. I knew better than to get my hopes too high for a promotion. Sheridan was a lawyer; she said a lot of stuff she didn’t mean. Roddy laughed, though, and that made me happy. He seemed to be recovering well from his separation from Maria.
As we stepped back into the bullpen, I saw the chief had already begun assembling a task force for the Castellano Family. We had a huge, floor-to-ceiling dry marker chart on the wall divided up into three sections with three key players’ names at the top—Michael Castellano, Vinnie Castellano, and Lachlan Swann. Below them was listed what we had so far on all the ranking members of the vast Castellano Crime family.
Michael and Vinnie’s sections of the dry board were filling up fast. Lachlan’s not so much. So far, he’s stayed clean. But then, I knew damned well it was Lachlan feeding the precinct the evidence we needed to bring the whole family down, and he was being careful not to incriminate himself. Then again, by Lachlan’s own admission, he’d never been invol
ved in or approved of the Castellanos’ porn rings.
The chief started outlining our next measures. When he saw us, he brightened considerably, became almost animate. I’d never known a man who loved sticking it to the bad guys like our chief—except, possibly, for Roddy.
“Detectives Hu and Rodriguez, I’m assigning you as senior officers on this task force. Whatever cases you have on your desk, I want them cleared immediately. You’ll be working on the Castellanos exclusively from now on.”
We both nodded as we assumed our places at the back of the room. Roddy leaned against the wall and cross his arms. I leaned against the casting of the door. The chief started handing out specific assignments, and reminding the seated officers that Roddy and I would be the detectives in charge of the investigation. I felt a twinge of nervousness. I’d never been a detective in charge before. In fact, I’d only gotten my shield a year ago. Further to my nervousness was the fact it meant the other—very male—officers in the bullpen would have to defer to me. Being a woman, I wasn’t sure if I’d command enough respect for that.
“I predict a long weekend of very little fun,” Roddy commented on our way back to our desk, our arms laden down with new sets of files the chief wanted us to comb over. “You wanna drop by on Saturday? I can grill us a couple steaks and we can pour over this mess together.”
I felt bad letting Roddy down again. “I would, Rod, I really would, but I’m seeing my boyfriend on Saturday.”
I saw his face fall, then he added with false cheer, “Well, if you want to bring him over for steaks, I’m down for that.”
I thought how bringing Lachlan over to meet Roddy would not end well. Bullets and blood would likely be involved. “I’ll think about it,” I told him because I couldn’t bear to break his heart, not on top of Maria walking out on him.
***
That night, I gave the files a light perusal. Roddy and I had been over them during the week; I knew I wasn’t going to find anything new or exciting. The DA was pretty happy with the underage exploitation charges they were lobbing against Castellano, but what I knew Sheridan really wanted was a Murder One charge. Vinnie would go away for life. Lachlan had promised to deliver the coupe de grace on Monday…if I made him happy this weekend.