Page 48 of Family Ties

It is heavier than expected when I lift it from the box.

“Allow me.” Grant takes it from my hands and sweeps it around my neck.

“For the clasp”— Lorraine hands him a small black wand— “the magnetic frequency can only be opened with the wand. So, as I tell all of my customers who request it, I don’t recommend misplacing it.”

“She won’t be taking it off. Will you, kitten?” Grant presses the clasp shut.

“No, sir.” A smile spreads across my face as my fingers linger over the collar wrapped around my neck.

It silently speaks volumes regarding all the things that Grant will never say.

Even if that isn’t his intention.

“It’s perfect, Lorraine.” Grant slips the wand into his pocket and shakes her hand. “Very discreet.”

“It is one my favorite day collars that I’ve ever been commissioned to create. If you ever need anything else”— her eyes dart to my left hand—“you know exactly where to find me.”

A ring?

No.

Surely, she was making some comment about 24-karat gold handcuffs or something.

“The remainder of your commission.” She slides a slightly larger velvet box across the table to Grant.

Without opening the box, Grant looks at his watch, then promptly says his thank you’s before ushering me to the car. Sliding into the backseat, he questions the driver, “Are we going to make it to our next destination on time?”

“I’ll make sure of it, sir.” He closes the door and quickly has us hurtling to our next destination. We ride in silence for several minutes, with Grant’s hand resting securely on my thigh. Turning his upper body toward me, he slips his finger into thediamond circle dangling from my neck and roughly yanks my face toward his.

“I’m going to enjoy using this later.” His lips pepper tantalizing kisses up my jaw toward my ear, and he whispers, “As you show me just how fucking thankful you are for my gift.”

I gulp my next breath at the anticipation and trepidation of what he has in store for me.

When the limo pulls to a stop again, we are parked before a large historic theater. Once inside, Grant takes my coat and checks it. My hand wraps in the crook of his elbow and we walk through the massive, ornate lobby. I cannot shake the feeling that everyone is staring at the two of us—at me.

“Sir.” I lean close. “Why are they staring?”

“I’m quite certain the men, and some of the women, are thinking about how much they’d like to fuck that tight little body of yours.” He slides his hand to the small of my back as he bends his lips to my ear. “And some of them are eyeing the money draped around your neck.”

I’m about to speak when the chandeliers above us repeatedly flash. Grant nudges me forward as he says, “Time to take our seats.”

Most of the people in the lobby begin filtering into the sets of doors we continue to walk past, but Grant leads me to a set of stairs at the far end of the long hall. Only four other couples continue up them with us. An usher leads two of the couples to the first set of curtains, the other two leave us as we pass the next set. When we reach the final curtain, it is just the two of us.

The usher sweeps the curtain open. Stepping through, it is a private balcony overlooking the entire theater. There are four chairs, two along the rail and two offset behind them. As the usher allows our curtain to fall shut, I step toward the seats at the rail.

“Back here.” Grant directs my attention to seats at the rear. Taking my seat, the lights in the theater go down completely, leaving Grant and I nearly obscured in the shadows of our private viewing area.

The lights of the stage come up, and the music of the orchestra beneath us begins to sound through the theater. All eyes are on the soprano belting out Italian on the stage, but Grant’s eyes are solely on me.

“Come here.” Grant’s voice is deep and gravelly. Rising from my seat, I take a few steps and stand before him. His arm moves, and my eyes are drawn to his lap, where I find him slowly fisting himself.

“Sir?” My head spins, and my eyes quickly roam over the hundreds of people sitting beneath us and the half dozen in the opposing balconies.

Grant spins me where I stand. He pushes my dress up my hips, leaving me bare from the waist down. I am beyond grateful for the large chair before me I hope blocks the view.

“Get on my fucking cock, kitten.” He drags me backward onto his lap as he slides himself inside me. His hands rub over my upper thighs, and he pulls them apart until I am reverse straddling him with my back resting against his chest.

He's quiet and still for a moment. His next words come as his slick fingers teasingly rub over my clit, “I suggest you are quietand watch the opera, unless you want everyone to know what a needy whore you are.”

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