Diamonds and Toads: A Modern Fairy Tale (5 page)

She settled her fork onto her plate with
little sound and then cleared her throat, which put his nerves
further on edge, before she said, “I-I’ve decided to handle the
investments myself, Chas.”

Chas’s heart dipped into his stomach. “Wow,”
he managed to say with an unconcerned smile, “that’s a big shift
from yesterday when you told me you had no idea how to handle them
on your own. What changed your mind?”

She looked down at her lap and straightened
the napkin there. “Oh, you know. I just thought it was time to be a
grown up and learn these things for myself.” Finally, she lifted
her gaze to his and smiled. “Now,” she said in a brighter voice,
“let’s plan our engagement party, shall we?”

“This is really not a good idea,
Delilah.”

“Chas, don’t worry! It’s going to be fine, I
promise. Do you want to hire an orchestra or go with a DJ?”

“What if you lose your shirt? It could
happen, you know.”

“I’ll be careful. Should we have dinner
served by wait staff or serve it buffet style?”

Chas could do nothing but follow her lead at
this point or risk looking like the fortune hunter he truly was.
“Yes,” he said and put the documents back inside his briefcase
before taking hold of her hand across the table.

* * *

Delilah let out an inaudible sigh and did a
quick look at her watch. “Where should we have it?” Only fifteen
more minutes and their lunch date would be over. Backpedaling on
the investment help she’d requested from Chas hadn’t been too
difficult, thankfully, and he’d yet to mention anything about what
had taken place between them the night before—or, well,
hadn’t
taken place between them—so she figured he wasn’t as
freaked out by it as he’d seemed last night. Which was a good
thing.

“How about my family’s estate? It’s certainly
large enough,” he said. “My aunt loves to host big parties, so if
you want, I can call her and ask her to help us get it together.”
He filled his wine glass for a second time and took a long
swallow.

She sat forward and placed her hand on his
forearm. “We don’t have to have it this week—we can wait a week or
two if you want.”

“No, no.” He let out a cough. “No.” His smile
at first seemed a little strained, which gave her a similar tension
in the back of her neck, but then, as he met her eyes and looked
into them, it softened. “I’m too excited over my good fortune in
winning you. I can’t wait to brag to the world about it.” He leaned
in and touched his lips to hers and her heart did a little
flip.

A thrill of excitement ran through her and
she let her hand move from his arm to the back of his hand. “Well.
If you’re sure,” she breathed. When she lifted her lids, she found
an odd look on his face, kind of like the one he’d had last night
when she’d shown him the back of her dress.

“You want to come over for dinner tonight?”
she asked.
And stay the night?
She yearned to say the words
aloud. Even felt them form on her tongue, opened her mouth to say
them, but her heart started pounding so hard that it flushed her
skin and made her sweat, then her throat constricted and she just
couldn’t force her vocal chords to cooperate.

He stood up. “Sure,” he said as he helped her
rise from her chair. “It’ll be late though, if that’s okay.
Probably around eight-thirty?”

“Eight-thirty’s fine.”
Good.
That
would give her plenty of time to buy a sexy nightie and maybe, just
maybe, figure out what to do with him once she got him in her
bed.

* * *

Chas rang Delilah’s doorbell and rocked back
on his heels. The plastic bag brushed against his knee and he
clenched the handle tighter in his fist. He’d been battling his
conscience all afternoon, but ultimately, his need to do his duty
to his family overrode his repugnance at being a lowdown
sonofabitch to Delilah. He needed those funds! Even though they’d
given him an extension, the creditors were chomping at the bit
waiting for him to wire the money to them.

That was why, an hour and a half ago, he’d
pulled into the parking lot of the adult sex toy store and made his
first-ever purchase from such an establishment. ’Course, he’d
circled her block ten times before finally pulling into her
driveway, his guilt still trying to talk him into doing the right
thing by her—the noble thing—and leave her the hell alone. Leave
her money the hell alone. But, in the end, the higher imperative
won out over scruples.

He’d  have to get her real relaxed
first, though, and then, afterward, he’d see if he couldn’t talk
her into letting him manage her money. Just kind of off-handed
like, so she didn’t get suspicious of his motives or anything. He
figured the best way to put her in a pliable mood would be to help
her out with her little problem. After he’d had time to think about
it—a lot of time, actually. More time than he should have, in fact,
since a good portion of that time had been more along the lines of
fantasy than calculating social risk of discovery—he’d decided that
if she needed to do this dominatrix thing as some means of
relieving anxiety, then he’d be her guinea pig. It was the least he
could do for her, let her use him, since he was sure as hell using
her. Or going to. Once he managed to get his fists around a few of
those millions of hers.

A couple of clicks of the lock from the
inside sounded and the door swung open. “At last,” she said. But
Chas’s brain barely registered the words. His eyes—every cell in
his body—were drawn, like a super-high powered magnet, to her
seductively-clad body. Clearly, her intentions for their evening
were much the same as his own.

His brows slammed together.
Except.

The satin and lace she was wearing told him
that hers had a much more romantic bent. And no doubt involved
actual penetration—which he was determined to abstain from. At
least he’d keep from screwing her literally, until he’d paid back
what he owed her. Which, if all went as he planned, wouldn’t be
more than a month or two down the road. “Jesus, Delilah.” The words
came out harsher than he’d intended.

Suddenly, her hands were moving, sweeping the
satin wrap around her, and tying the sash, effectively covering her
much-too appetizing female parts from his view. “You don’t like it.
How embarrassing. I just thought—well, it doesn’t matter.” She
swung the door open further and whirled around. “Come in. Dinner is
ready. I’ll just go change,” she said as she scuttled across the
living room toward what Chas assumed was the hallway leading to her
bedroom.

It only took him a second to catch up to her.
He grabbed hold of her arm and swung her around to face him. She
stumbled and fell into him, her hand brushing his erection. They
both gasped.

He recovered before she did. “Don’t be
embarrassed, Delilah,” he said. “I like what you’re wearing.”

He felt her relax, though her shoulders still
rose and fell with rapid breath. She had her head bent so he
couldn’t get a good look at her expression. “Really?” she
asked.

“Yes. Maybe a little too much.” He nudged her
chin up with his knuckle, forcing her to meet his eyes and dragged
her hair away from her cheek. Her face was as red as his father’s
Ferrari. For some reason, his heart tripped and then a new rush of
blood flooded his groin.
What the hell are you doing,
man?

He let his hands drop to his sides and
stepped back. “But, I—” His voice rasped.

He cleared his throat. “I guess you should go
ahead and change. I don’t think I’ll be able to concentrate on
eating with you dressed that way.”

* * *

Delilah bit down on the inside of her cheek.
The pressure not to cry nearly overwhelmed her.
He doesn’t want
me.
“Okay,” she said. But as she was turning away from Chas,
she noticed the bag in his hand—and the emblem on the front. Her
heart leap-frogged in her chest. She knew that store. Which meant
he
did
want her! Without further thought, she made a grab
for it and had it opened before he could put up the slightest
protest.

When she saw what he’d brought with him, a
rainbow of happiness exploded inside her and eviscerated every last
particle of despair. A grin broke over her face and their eyes met.
“Why Chas H. Regan. You little devil.”

* * *

It was Chas’s turn to flush. His face felt as
hot as a Houston sidewalk in the hell-month of August and his pits
and hands were suddenly clammy with sweat.

This was not going at all the way he’d
envisioned. He’d had it all planned out: He’d have the upper hand.
Be the one who was in control of the situation. He’d sit her down
right here in the living room after dinner and have that long
heart-to-heart about propriety, their social status, etc., etc.,
and then he’d offer to be her—what was it called? Oh,
yeah—
submissive
.

In private.

Just between them.

No intercourse, just fun and games.

No one ever needed to know.

He shrugged. “It was—just an idea. Since you
seem to like kink.”

* * *

Delilah took hold of Chas’s hand and led him
down the hall to her bedroom. He didn’t protest when she pressed
him into a sitting position on the edge of her bed. She felt the
weight of his gaze following her around her bedchamber as she lit
candles, dimmed lights, and chose her favorite mood music from her
iPod.

Next she pulled the red satin and black lace
heart g-string from the bag he’d brought and handed it to him.
“Take your clothes off and put this on while I’m gone.”

“But, I thought—this is yours!”

The look of horror on Chas’s face came near
to ruining Delilah’s act. She controlled the grin that threatened
by glaring at him with narrowed eyes and pursed lips. “No, pet.
Tonight, they’re
yours
.” She turned her back on him and
strode over to her closet, taking out her boots and domme outfit.
The smile she sent him as she slowly swept the door to the master
bath closed had become her signature in the business; it was one of
dark desire and profound promise, and it gave her an unimaginable
thrill when she saw the primal heated response from him in the
flare of his nostrils and the sharp intake of breath.

“See you in a moment,” she purred.

Thankfully, she’d placed her Kama sutra
picture book on a shelf in the bathroom cabinet and she took a
brief moment to study a few of the photographs, memorizing hand and
body placement.

Finally, she took in a deep breath and closed
the glossy cover.
Okay. You can do this.
Her hand shook a
little as she returned the book to its hiding place on the back of
the third shelf.
Just do your routine. No big deal.
She
nibbled on her thumbnail.
Only this time, you’ll follow through
with the promise.

* * *

Chas was so turned on, he could hear the rush
of blood through his veins. He resisted an urge to readjust his
cock inside the satin-soft g-string.
Down boy.
He was
seriously out of his element and just about as embarrassed as he’d
ever been, but hot for it, too. Except, of course, there’d be no
sex between them. She didn’t have sex with her submissives, she’d
told him so. His honorable intentions toward her were safe
tonight.

He looked around the room for about the
thirtieth time. Decadent. That’s what this was. But—okay—fun.

The music she’d chosen was—interesting.
Electronic. Eerie, sexy, moody, and slow, with a female voice
running through it that seemed more instrument than tale-teller.
There was a promise of depraved sexual encounter inherent in its
tone. It made him jittery all over again.

Nothing was turning out as he’d expected.
There were the nerves, for one thing. Plus this out of control
thing was really doing a number on him. He’d had the notion that it
would be more—something—a give-and-take thing, he guessed? Except
with toys and leather. But it wasn’t that way at all, and part of
him—a surprisingly large part, in fact—didn’t give a damn. Which
was scary as hell.

He heard the sound of the faucet in the next
room. Goosebumps formed on his arms. What other crazy stuff was she
going to want him to do? Would handcuffs be involved?

Before his imagination had traveled more than
a pace down that path of sexual intrigue, she was there in the
doorway. A sinful, dangerous silhouette holding her black leather
flogger in one hand and dangling a blindfold in the other. The
image decimated his tenaciously held honor and captured his starved
libido in one fell swoop.

She walked over to him, standing mere feet
from where he sat. “Stand, pet.”

He did as he was told, unable to keep his
eyes from returning to her whip every second or so.

Her eyes goggled at the obvious state of his
arousal, but only for a flash of a second, before she shuttered the
look behind a mien of authority once more. “Don’t look at me, look
at the floor.”

He dropped his gaze.

“Now, there are a few ground rules we need to
get straight before we begin. Say ‘yes, mistress’.”

“Yes, mistress.”

“My name is Mistress Domnonea. What is my
name?”

Mistress Domnonea?
He hadn’t expected
that. “Mistress Domnonea,” he told her.

“Good.” The
thwack-swish
of the
flogger against her thigh-high boot made him startle. He
tensed.

“This next is extremely important: You must
never speak until spoken to, except to say ‘Yes, mistress.’ Do you
understand?”

He would have laughed, but the sound of the
whip stopped it dead in his throat. “Yes, mistress.”

“Take a step toward me.” After he did so, she
stroked her hand over his cock. He sucked in a breath and shuddered
as a bit of semen charged from his testicles. He groaned with
pleasure.