Page 25 of Reveal Me
As she shrugs out of her coat, she keeps a tight hold on the contract. My jaw almost hits the floor at her attire. A strapless fitted black lace bodice sculpts her breasts, then nips in her tiny waist, before disappearing into leather fitted pants which hug her thighs in a way that can only be described as overtly sexual.
I changed my mind about leather—on her, it’s fucking irresistible.
She’s dressed for war.
Let’s hope we don’t start one.
I take her coat and try not to stare at her as she gazes so intently at the abstract art lining my walls.
‘The former—no, given you’re a billionaire. The latter—yes.’ She shrugs. ‘Again, given you’re a billionaire.’
‘My friend Jaxon has an art gallery. He makes sure I get first dibs on the best pieces.’ I shrug, running my eyes over her feminine frame again. ‘I like beautiful things.’ I hang up her coat, then point her towards the kitchen, watching her pert ass sashay as her red heeled patent shoes click precisely over the polished wooden flooring. ‘And as for cooking— it relaxes me. It’s all about nailing the control and timing?—’
‘Much like your other recreational activities?’ She raises an eyebrow, dropping the envelope onto the gleaming kitchen counter.
I ignore her comment and turn my attention back to the pan. It’s safer that way. ‘Make yourself comfortable. There’s wine breathing on the counter and a bottle of champagne in the cooling bucket.’
The princess pours herself a glass of champagne, then perches on one of the high leather bar stools at the kitchen island. Her eyes burn into my back as I work. ‘Surely it wouldbe more appropriate to discuss the contract in one of your sex dungeons, not over dinner.’
I flip the scallops with practiced precision. ‘There’s nothing appropriate about any of this, but if you’re referring to my club, dinner isn’t typically served there.’ I twist my head to drink her in again. ‘The only thing we eat down there is each other.’
Our eyes lock. Hers flash with heat and hunger as she bites back a smirk. Let’s see how funny she thinks this arrangement is when her wrists are bound so tightly she’ll have rope burns for a week. That chemistry thrums between us again. The air is charged with illicit possibilities. I’ve never felt it so acutely with a submissive before. Previously, it was the agreement between us that turned me on, not necessarily the submissive herself. But I can’t stop wondering what the princess’s pretty little cunt tastes like. Wondering if she’ll scream when she shatters on my tongue. The thought has my dick solid in seconds.
‘Sign me up.’ Her perfect white teeth bite into her lower lip.
‘That’s what you’re here to discuss—after we’ve gotten to know each other a bit better.’
I never wanted to get to know a sub before. The only thing I was interested in before was her body. But the princess is different. She’s intriguing. Ethereal. Sexy as fuck. And so off limits, it doesn’t bear contemplating, which if I’m honest, only adds to the appeal.
She takes a sip of her champagne, and her eyes travel to the label with surprising attentiveness. ‘Beckett’s Black Label. Your family’s vineyards?’
‘I see your research extended to my family’s subsidiaries as well as our scandals.’ I cock my head. ‘It was my brother James’s idea to acquire the original vineyards in Provence—a lucrative one at that.’ I plate the scallops, adding a drizzle ofbrown butter and herbs. ‘We’ve acquired several more over the past year.’
I can’t wait to wipe that smirk off her face. Preferably with my dick. Blackmailing a Beckett has serious consequences. In her case—those consequences will be sexual. The thought alone is sending me feral. It’s taking every modicum of willpower in me not to bend her over the table this second.
‘I hope you’re not vegetarian.’
‘No, sir.’ Her full lips part in another sexy smile, and her eyes drop to my crotch. Oh, she’s good.
I shake her deliberately planted salacious thoughts from my brain and slide a plate towards her.
She accepts it with a quiet thank you. ‘You sent your staff away. Don’t you trust them?’
I pour wine for us both, measuring her reaction. She’s remarkably at ease for someone about to discuss whether she’s happy for me to gag her while I fuck her in the ass. Either she’s an excellent actress—entirely possible given her royal training—or the contract genuinely didn’t disturb her.
‘I prefer to keep certain aspects of my life separate,’ I admit.
‘Like keeping your family from your club?’ she spears a bit of scallop, and I watch as she pops it between her crimson lips.
I freeze, my wine glass halfway to my lips. ‘What is the obsession with my family?’
‘You’re interesting. All of you. All the different subsidiaries of Beckett Enterprises. There isn’t a pie one of you doesn’t have a finger in. Nice little acquisition you picked up in Cork on Friday.’ She says this casually, as if reciting a weather report. ‘I did my homework, Mr. Beckett. Just as I’m sure you’ve done yours on me.’
‘I don’t need to do my homework. Your family is plastered all over the media. You especially. Quite the stunt with LordHarrington. What did the press call it again? Oh, yes.’ I click my fingers. ‘The Royal Splash.’
‘Lord Harrington was a chauvinistic, presumptuous, sexist twat.’
I bite back the laughter rising in my chest. This woman, this royal creature, is sassy, sexy, sharp and sensual—absolutely nothing like I expected. ‘Don’t hold back.’
