Evander might think he was being clever and romantic, dumping Reaux on her this way, no doubt hoping the stars would align and such close proximity would erase all the previous hurts to pave a path for a new, blossoming relationship.
The Dom was happily married, but he was an idiot when it came to love, in her opinion. He was an intuitive Dom, blinded by his own rose-tinted glasses and influenced by the miraculous love binding him, Callie, and Elias into one.
What he didn’t understand was how powerful Boudreaux was in his own right. Not just physically with his gorgeous, treacherous eyes and God’s gift example of a face or that ridiculously fit body no man his age should be able to flaunt.
No, his power was in his voice.
When he spoke gently, it felt as though his words whispered through her blood, warming her to the core, pumping adoration for him through her heart, body, soul. Add in an edge of temper, a little thrum of discontent, and he could have her on her knees before she realized it.
The ultimate nail in her coffin?
His Dom voice. The voice he used for scenes, for aspects of aftercare, forruiningher. Dark, rich, sinful, smoother than twice-whipped cream. That was the voice that haunted herdreams, her self-pleasure, infiltrated her subconscious until she heard it crooning to her in the dark.
If he used that on her, there was no doubt she’d revert straight back to submissive Violet, reliant on his every command, eager to do his bidding as though they’d never been apart.
With that in mind, she pulled out the black pants that molded to her waist, hips, and thighs before letting the material cascade down to just above the floor. She loved these damn pants, the empowerment of how well they fit to her form, and selected a hunter green sleeveless blazer to really send the message home:do not fuck with me.
The baggage tucked away in the bottom of her closet didn’t escape unnoticed.
The final touch were the three-inch heeled ankle boots she found most comfortable. A little additional height when facing her ex wouldn’t go amiss. She’d always loved how tall he was, especially when he cuddled her and made her feel safe, but when the boot was on the other foot, she’d take any leverage she could find over him.
A spritz ofPretty As Poisonperfume beneath her jaw and over her wrists, and she was all set to tackle the rest of the day, along with its fresh inconveniences.
Summoning her inner bitch, Violet strolled from the bedroom and headed for the kitchen. God knew where Boudreaux was lying in wait for her, but as long as she remembered he was actually living here for the foreseeable future, he wouldn’t be able to take her by surprise too often.
She snorted under her breath; forgetting wasn’t going to be an issue when every cell in her slutty, needy body was attuned to his presence. Not only attuned, but sending out blatantfuck mesignals in an effort to encourage him.
No more.
There would not be a repeat of today’s performance, and she was going to tighten the reins on her self-control, her libido, her self-destructive urges to throw her heart back at his feet and surrender to her Master once more.
Reaux was in the kitchen, his back to her as he sat on a stool at the island, presumably doing something on his phone. He straightened and spun when her heels clacked on the tiles, a hint of a dimple appearing in his cheek as he appraised her attire. “I hoped you’d be wearing something less formal, Bennie.”
She lifted her eyebrow. “Is that your decision to make?”
A muscle ticked beneath his eye, but his tone remained respectful. “Of course not.”
“Perhaps remind yourself of that before you comment next time.” Okay, her inner bitch was feeling prickly, it seemed. Dismissing her own surly attitude, she raked her gaze over him, ignoring the curl of lust unfurling in her lower belly. “I need to go out for a few minutes. I’d prefer it if you stayed here, but if you find yourself unable to obey a simple request, I’ll ask Fordham to babysit you.”
Eyes darkening, Reaux quirked his own eyebrow in challenge. “Whatever Mistress wants. I’m sure I can find something to entertain myself during your absence. Lunch will be here in about thirty minutes however, so you might want to hurry.”
“You ordered lunch?”
“Mmm-hmm. The chef, he is very accommodating, no? I asked him for crawfish fried rice and he said no problem.”
Crap, now he was using food as a weapon against her. Acting indifferent, as though one of her favorite quick and easy meals wasn’t making her stomach growl in anticipation, she tilted her chin. “It’s a short errand.”
“I’m sure.” Lips twitching, he shrugged his shoulders and returned his attention to his phone. “I’ll see you when you return.”
Violet frowned, unimpressed with being so easily set aside. Was starting an argument just so she could get the last word in worth it? No. He was too damn slick to lose a battle of words.
Well, as long as he stayed put and didn’t follow her, what did she care?
*
The walk to the main clubhouse took ten minutes.
When given the choice of cabins when she started working here, Violet wanted some space between her private time and her work, so she picked one at the edge of the forest where the sounds of nature were louder than the hustle and bustle of the club.
