Page 50 of Audacity

It’s not until our breathing has regulated that he murmurs, ‘I really, really liked it when you called me Gabe.’

CHAPTER 22

Gabe

‘Have a seat. There’s something I want to show you.’

I pat the edge of my desk, just next to me, scooting out my chair as I do. Athena laughs as she rounds the desk.

‘Again?’

I shake my head, unable to stop my grin. The young woman in front of me is flawless in a fine black sweater, a slim-fitting black leather skirt that hugs her hips enticingly, and what can only be called fuck-me boots. She’s always the epitome of class—she’s probably the best-dressed woman in the entire firm—so no one would believe I had that shiny ponytail wrapped around my fist this morning as she sucked my cock under this very desk.

Nobody but me, that is, and I’ll never forget it.

‘Somethingelse,’ I tell her as she perches elegantly on the edge, crossing her ankles. I hand her a large cream envelope with the Alchemy crest embossed in the corner. ‘Take a look at this.’

Thisis an invitation, issued only to a small subset of Alchemy members, bearing a moody photograph of an ancient mist-shrouded castle and debossed with two words in gold foil:

PRIMA NOCTA.

As she turns it over and slides out the thick piece of card, I watch her intently for a reaction. She’s still pretty implacable—when I don’t have her on the brink of orgasm, that is—but I’m getting to know her tells, and I’m dying to see what she thinks of this invitation.

Since she recounted that absolutely filthy tale a couple of weeks ago about her birthday treat, if you can call it that, from her old boss, I’ve been in something akin to emotional turmoil. Sex with Athena is gratifying beyond anything I could have imagined, and she seems to enjoy it, too. But I knew when I hired her that she had what appeared to this former priest to be perilous appetites, and it seems I’m terrified that I alone won’t satisfy her as much as she needs and deserves.

I’m terrified she’ll walk.

It’s true that she’s got stuck into her work here with the skill and low-level aggression I’d expected, and she’s mentioned a few times that she’s far happier here than she was in her former position. It seems inconceivable that the steady string of orgasms I deliver to her on a daily basis are anything but real, but I have to remember that she’s exceptionally good at what she does. If she wasn’t satisfied, I wouldn’t necessarily know.

The safest option is to keep up with her. To anticipate those very particular needs she has, and to fulfil them.

It may be a straightforward strategy, but it’s bloody terrifying.

So it’s with some wariness that I watch her now, hoping I haven’t misjudged this situation.

She takes the invitation in with narrowed eyes. It arrived earlier by courier, but Cal, one of Alchemy’s cofounders and their head of events, mentioned it to me in passing a few days ago when I was at the club. (It was a chaste evening. Drinks withthe boys only. I have absolutely no need for The Playroom these days.)

‘Prima Nocta,' she murmurs. ‘This is an event they’re doing?’

‘Yeah. They’ve hired out some Norman castle in Essex for it. It’s their first big themed popup in the UK—sounds like it’ll be veryGame of Thrones.’ It also comes with a price tag that would cover a family home in most parts of the country, but I’m not about to tell her that. ‘Are you familiar with the concept?’

She looks up then, and the dazzling smile she shoots me leaves me in no doubt at all as to her views on the topic.

‘Jus primae noctisis the correct term,’ she says, and I nod.

‘The law of the first night. Got it.’

She’s still smiling. ‘The French call itle droit du seigneur. The right of the lord. I’ve always found that hot as fuck.’

‘Tell me about it,’ I say. The small amount of googling I’ve done has made me seriously uncomfortable, but this isn’t about me.

‘Well, there’s absolutely no historical evidence that it was an actual thing, but it’s amazing how much it’s come up in different cultures, all the way from ancient times to medieval. The Irish have mentions of it, the French, the Chinese, the Ancient Greeks, Gilgamesh—even the Holy Roman Empire.’

I’m unsure whether to be impressed by Athena’s encyclopaedic knowledge or deeply unsettled by her familiarity with this kinky rabbit hole. ‘Go on. Can I touch you?’

She frowns. ‘Of course.’

Every time I want to lay a finger on her, I ask her first.

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