Chapter 40
My apartment was a safe house these days, with Rhea pacing the floors and Gavriel coming and going at all hours with that haunted look in his eyes.
Not to mention that Rhea was staying in the bunker in the basement.
It was fine short-term, but if shit went sideways, she was going to need to be somewhere long-term.
I had a place in mind, but it was going to be an absolute last resort.
Gavriel’s contact said it could be a few more days, but even once we got the documents, we still had to safely get her out of the area.
The weight of what they were planning hung in the air, making it difficult to breathe.
I needed to get Gavriel out of here—we both needed it.
I found him in my study, hunched over his laptop, shoulders rigid with tension. Three empty coffee cups lined the desk, and the dark circles under his eyes told me he likely hadn't slept in days.
"Enough," I said, closing his computer with a decisive click.
He looked up, startled. "Elin, I need to—"
"You need to breathe." I placed my hands on his shoulders, feeling the knots of tension beneath my fingertips. "You're no good to Rhea if you collapse."
"There's too much to do. Rico's timeline—"
"Is too long. And you pushing yourself to exhaustion won't make those documents appear any faster." I moved my hands to cup his face, forcing him to look at me. "I'm taking you out tonight."
A flash of resistance crossed his features before resignation set in. "Where?"
"The Lounge." I let my voice drop to the commanding tone I knew he responded to. " You need to let go for a few hours, and I need to check in there."
His pupils dilated slightly at my words. "As . . . ?"
"As mine." I ran my thumb over his bottom lip. "My pretty boy. Not as an Azzaro or the Owl’s Talon. Just you, kneeling for me, letting me take control."
He closed his eyes briefly, and I could see the war within him—the need to stay vigilant against the desperate craving to surrender, if only for a moment.
"Rhea—"
"She’s going to be secure downstairs, not to mention that Harley will be here with an extensive security system and extra guards.
Even if they get through Harley, they aren’t going to find her in the safe room, Gavriel.
She'll be fine for a few hours." I leaned closer, my lips brushing his ear.
"I need you to trust me. Let me care for you tonight. "
His muscles relaxed as something in him yielded, like ice cracking under pressure. "Yes, Goddess."
The title sent a shiver of anticipation through me. "Good boy. Wear the black suit I bought you with no boxers." I pressed a kiss to his forehead. "I'll call Greta and let her know we're coming."
Subdued lighting bathed the Lounge in amber warmth as I guided Gavriel through my usual private entrance. The mingled scents of leather and sandalwood greeted me like an old friend.
In the members-only section, I methodically prepared him—tucking his shirt, socks, and shoes safely away, concealing his distinctive tattoos, and securing a half-mask over his features.
His bare chest would be on display, but his identity would be protected.
When I produced the silver leash, his eyes darkened with desire.
Without prompting, he presented his wrists.
I fastened them with a small padlock, sealed our arrangement with a kiss, then changed into my own uniform: a black lace bustier and matching thong.
He followed precisely two steps behind me, the perfect submissive—eyes downcast, posture impeccable.
Only, I noticed his jaw working silently, his fingers gripping the chain between his bound wrists.
We were met by Greta in the foyer, her silver hair elegantly swept up.
At sixty-five, she commanded respect as the reigning Madam of the Lounge, our city's second-most exclusive BDSM establishment.
“Lady E,” she greeted, giving me a quick air kiss on both cheeks. “And who is this specimen?”
"This is my Pretty Boy."
Gavriel kept his eyes downcast, ever the obedient man at my side. Only I knew the deadly predator that lurked beneath that carefully constructed facade.
"Beautiful," Greta murmured, circling him once. "The private alcove is prepared as you requested. Champagne is chilling, and the toy selection has been customized to your preferences."
"Thank you, Greta." I squeezed Gavriel's hand, his pulse a hummingbird beneath my fingertips. "If you’ll excuse us, we do have plans."
As we entered the main play space, Gavriel’s eyes scanned the entirety of the room.
Different from Paradise, the Lounge was elegant in its depravity, with crystal chandeliers illuminating scenes of exquisite dominance and submission.
A woman in red leather was flogging her male submissive on a St. Andrew's cross.
Nearby, Freddie, a non-binary dom, had their partner for the evening bound in an intricate rope harness, suspended just inches from the floor.
I led Gavriel to a velvet settee near the edge of the room, positioning him at my feet as I sat. My fingers found their way into his hair, stroking gently.
"This is a sanctuary," I whispered, tugging his long hair to tip his head back to look into his eyes. "No one here knows who you are outside these walls. No one cares about anything except the exchange of power and pleasure."
His eyes, usually so guarded, were vulnerable now. "And what are we doing here, Goddess?"
"Being.” He tilted his head in a manner that was so puppylike. Lifting my hand to cup his cheek as I pulled on the silver chain to bring him closer to me, I breathed, “Pleasure. Yours and mine. Here, we aren’t Elin and Gavriel—the club owner and Owl’s Talon. Here we are Goddess and Pretty Boy.”
His Adam’s apple moved and heat clouded his eyes. “Yes, Goddess. How may I serve you?”
“You want to serve me already?” I placed a finger under his chin, and he shifted his weight. “We have all night. What is the rush?”
“Since we walked in here, other men and women have been looking at you.”
I nodded. “I am Lady E. I’m well known here.”
His bound hands ran up my thighs and then nudged for me to spread them. I obliged with a cocked eyebrow. “Please, Goddess. I need to taste you on my tongue, and your Pretty Boy wants to show them just how much he can pleasure you.”
“For all to see in this room?” He nodded.
“I didn’t think you a performer. Though, if you need to show everyone just who owns you .
. .” I gripped his hair, and a moan came from him as his gaze met mine.
In my peripheral, I saw indeed had the attention of a few of the members here.
Smirking, I lifted my chin and commanded, “Then eat me, Pretty Boy. Make me cum all over your face.”
Spreading my legs wide and resting my heels on the edge of the settee, Gavriel kissed up my thighs before kissing my clit through the barely there fabric of my thong.
Wrists bound together, he snaked his fingers in to move the fabric over before he once again looked up to me and, with his tongue wide and flat, licked me from back to front, flicking over my clit.
He did it a few more times, knowing he was teasing me.
If he wanted a performance, I’d give him one. I tipped my head back, gripped his hair, and growled, “Eat, Pretty Boy. Stop teasing your Goddess.” Then I shoved his face into my pussy, where he did indeed lick and suck me just how I liked it.
As I looked down at him, his attention was fully on me. My focus swept around the room, and there were indeed a few couples and one woman a few seats over watching us. She was staring with rapped attention, her hands on her breasts, pinching her nipples.
Fuck, this is hot.
I rolled my hips against his face, enjoying the feeling of him swirling his tongue up into my pussy.
“You like this?” He nodded. “There are a few couples watching and a woman touching herself.” My gaze flicked to her as I moaned and sucked in my bottom lip as she slipped her hand down her panties.
“Everyone here knows I don’t allow my subs to touch me. They know you are special, Pretty Boy.”
He hummed against me, the vibration shooting electricity up my spine as I ground against his mouth.
My fingers twisted in his hair, yanking him closer, harder, demanding more.
Across from us, a woman straddled her partner, impaling herself on him with an indecent moan.
His voice cut through the haze—"Watch her face," he commanded his submissive. "See how his Goddess comes undone."
Gavriel's teeth grazed my clit, making me gasp. He pulled back just enough to tear the fabric completely away, his eyes black with hunger. "You're magnificent when you lose control, Goddess."
"Did I say you could stop?" I snarled, shoving his face back between my thighs. "Make. Me. Come."
He devoured me then—no gentleness, no teasing. His thumb thrust deep inside me while his finger went from my pussy to my ass without warning. The sudden invasion made my vision blur, my back arching off the chair. "Fuck! Yes, pretty boy!"
His tongue became relentless, flicking and circling my clit while his fingers worked me open, stretching, claiming. I was beyond shame, beyond control, screaming filthy commands as the pressure built to unbearable heights. "Harder—fuck—ruin me—don't you dare fucking stop—"
When I finally shattered, it wasn't an orgasm but an annihilation.
My scream tore through the Lounge as my body convulsed violently, wetness gushing over his face, his chin, his neck.
"That’s my boy!" I howled as he used my own slickness to drive into my ass, prolonging my release until I was sobbing, shaking, destroyed.
As I lowered myself back down, he slid his fingers from me but blew softly on my clit, making my legs twitched with the sensation. Slowly, he kissed his way up my body as I tried to catch my breath. When he reached my lips, he whispered, “Now they all know that I am yours.”