An hour later, I’m dressed and ready to go with ten minutes to spare. Given his current mood, I’m erring on the side of caution.
“You are a vision in that dress. Like Aphrodite herself.” Dameon pulls me close, planting a gentle kiss to my temple. “Stunning.”
My eyes flutter closed, and I try to conceal the sparks that work through my body at the touch of his soft lips. His scent, the warmth of his breath and his protective aura are intoxicating. Despite being pissed at him for his words earlier, I’m overcome with the need to capture this moment, to imprint it on my brain, so I’ll never forget what it feels like to have the devotion and care of a man like Dameon. The realization that I won’t always have his lips at my disposal makes my heart ache. I can no longer lie to myself that I don’t want his soft, intimate kisses for the rest of my life.
We arrive at a charity ball, not too dissimilar to the one we attended in New York—the night my entire life changed when he placed that small black card in my hand. The ballroom is dripping with ostentatious opulence as Sydney’s elite arrive to dispense with a small fraction of their fortunes for the underprivileged, all in the name of good appearances.
“Let’s get this over with. That dress is coming off the moment we get out of here. And I’m going to smack that ass the same shade of red for making me walk around half-mast.” Dameon discreetly adjusts himself, making me smirk.
He threads his fingers with mine, leading me around the ballroom until we spot James and Cora.
“I didn’t know you would be here,” I remark, kissing Cora’s cheek and embracing James.
“I hate these things. I’m here under duress,” she complains, shooting James a pointed look. He responds with a raised eyebrow, a silent warning that causes her face to flush pink.
“Hello, gentlemen. Don’t you both look dashing.” An older woman joins our group, extending her hand to Dameon and James. Her gown is elegant, understated yet beautiful, and her white hair is pulled back into a sophisticated chignon.
“Evelyn, this is Cora, my wife,” James says, a tender expression playing on his face. “She’s also Hayes & Hayward Media’s PR manager, and we would be lost without her.” Cora leans into James’ body, her face mirroring his affection. It’s clear they share a deep love for each other.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Cora says warmly as she shakes her hand.
“And this is Hailee,” Dameon says, introducing me. Sensing an opportunity for a little payback, I bite my lip to hide my smile and the rush of excitement. His meltdown earlier over my bikini had nothing to do with my outfit. Deep down, I know he doesn’t really give a shit what I wear—especially since I know he enjoys showing me off. I’m consumed by guilt over causing him stress, but I refuse to be a punching bag. He doesn’t get to talk to me like that. The thought of giving him a taste of his own medicine has me feeling almost giddy.
I grab Evelyn’s hand and give it a rough shake, her smile straining at my forwardness. Dameon frowns at my sudden assertiveness. He has no clue what it really means to act like a whore, but he’s about to find out.
“And what do you do, dear? I imagine being a newlywed keeps you very busy,” Evelyn inquires with a polite smile.
“Oh, we’re not newlyweds,” I respond with a small, fake laugh and a flick of my wrist. “I actually suck dick for a living.” I hear Cora snort into her champagne. The shock on Evelyn’s face is priceless. I almost wish there was one of those caricature street artists nearby to capture her expression for me. I would treasure that drawing. Forever.
“Men pay me aridiculousamount of money to get on my knees for them. But I’m also an entrepreneur. I’m an OnlyFansmodel when I’m not bleeding wealthy men like your husband dry,” I say, casually eyeing the large diamond on her finger. “I mostly sell pictures of my feet these days, though, oh, and I play with myself on camera. You know how it is. Life is tough in this economy, and bills don’t pay themselves,” I add with a shrug, smiling at our group.
Cora struggles to suppress her laughter, attempting to hide it behind her champagne glass, and James wears a massive shit-eating grin on his face, clearing enjoying the spectacle. I chance a look at Dameon. His expression is nothing short of murderous. If looks could kill, I’d be splayed out on this floor, hemorrhaging like a gutted pig.
“Well, that’s very interesting, dear…” If she were wearing pearls, Evelyn would be clutching them.
“Would you please excuse us for a moment?” Dameon grits through clenched teeth, his grip firm on my upper arm as he drags me away from our friends and the bewildered Evelyn.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he seethes under his breath as he corners me in a quiet spot of the ballroom. I rip my arm away from his hold, meeting his powerful gaze head on.
“What am I doing? I’m just acting like my job. I can’t seem to help it!”
His jaw twitches, and his eyes blaze with fury. After a few moments of intense staring in a silent standoff, he closes his eyes and breathes out heavily through his nose. When he reopens them, regret flickers across his features.
“I’m sorry for implying”—I narrow my eyes at his attempt at an apology—“forcallingyou a whore in anger. I didn’t mean it. But if you wear that bikini in public again, I’m burning it.”
I smile in victory. “For your eyes only, I promise.” Standing up on my tiptoes, I give him a peck on the lips. He responds by deepening the kiss, and by the time he pulls away, I’m panting. A smear of red lipstick adorns his lips. I wipe it off with my thumb, although I’m tempted to leave it—a mark of my ownership, a sign that says “Back off, bitches, he’s mine.”
He pinches my chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting my head up so our eyes lock. “If you ever pull a stunt like that again, you won’t orgasm for the rest of the year.”
Remembering the way he tortured my poor pussy and kept me on edge during my last punishment is enough for me to heed his warning. Not coming for the rest of the year? No, thank you.
“I understand, sir.”
“Good girl. Go wait for me on the balcony; I’ll get us some drinks.” He taps me on the ass, heading toward the bar with one hand in his pocket, looking very debonair.
I take a moment to freshen up in the bathroom, twisting the end of my lipstick and coating my pout in a deep shade of red. As I refine the edges with a touch of my finger, the door swings open, revealing a tall, curvy brunette in a sublime off-the-shoulder black ball gown. Our eyes meet in the reflection, and a sense of recognition claws at my consciousness.
I know her.
