“You should choose a book from the library and do some reading in the garden. I mean, if that’s something that you enjoy.”
“I do enjoy reading. Very much. Where is the library?”
“This floor, near the front entrance.”
“Thank you.”
I leave the kitchen and stroll through room after room, admiring everything about the architecture inside the house. I wonder if the molding and millwork are original. Either way, they’re magnificent, but I’d be even more impressed if they were authentic 1857.
I enter the library and stop when I see the massive number of books on the shelves. Is Tristan Broussard an avid reader? Is that why this library is filled top to bottom with books? It’s hard for me to imagine the kinky-sex-addict casino owner sitting down in a quiet space, reading literature.
I quickly discover that the books are shelved by the author’s last name. There are tons of genres to choose from, but one book in particular catches my attention.The Thorn Birds.Something about that title feels familiar. Seems like maybe I’ve heard my grandmother talk about it. Nothing rings a bell when I read the inside of the jacket, but an Australian woman falling in love with an Irish priest sounds interesting enough to give a try.
I sit in one of the chairs in the library, intending to read a few pages, but the photograph on the table next to the chair catches my attention. A woman holding an infant. Looks like the photo was probably taken during the eighties based on the woman’s hair and clothing. I’m pretty sure that this is Tristan and his mother. If so, he was a real cutie. And still is.
Cute but kinky as fuck.
I drop the book off in my bedroom as I pass by and continue exploring the house. I stop at the staircase leading to the third floor. That’s where Tristan took me for my Dom-sub tutorial. I’m not sure why, but I’m drawn to return there.
I open the door and enter, stopping in the center of the room to admire its beauty. The room is so elegant. Fit for a king. It’s like being in here for the first time; I was so distracted by what was happening that I couldn’t have identified the color, the size, or anything else about my surroundings.
I still can’t believe that I was in here last night watching that good-looking man do all of those kinky things to that woman. A live-sex show. And not vanilla sex. It was like watching live porn. How did Tristan pull that off? Everyday people, even in New Orleans, don’t go around doing that for other people to watch. At least not in my world. But Tristan Broussard does live in an entirely different world.
And now I’m living in that world.
“What are you doing in here?”
I jolt from the shock of hearing a woman’s voice and whirl around.
Holy shit. It’s the woman from last night’s live-porn show.
“Umm… I was exploring the house. I-I didn’t know that anyone was up here.” Why is she still in the house?
“Tristan won’t be happy that you came up here.” She calls him Tristan as though she’s on a first-name basis with him.
“He told me that I wasn’t confined to my bedroom. I took that as permission to explore the house. And Ray said that it was okay.”
I’m not sure what the smile on her face means, but it’s definitely not an indicator of happiness.
“Yourbedroom,” she whispers. “That’s rich.”
I’m not sure what this woman’s problem is, but I know when a woman is being catty with me.
“Is there a problem?”
“Yourroom is my room. Or at least it was until you decided to show up and take my place.”
Take her place?
Holy shit. “You were his submissive?”
“I was until a few days ago.”
“What happened?”
“Youhappened.” She crosses her arms. “Listen and listen good. I’m the best submissive that Tristan’s ever had. I’m the best that he’ll ever have. You’ll never measure up to me. You’ll never please him the way I do, and I’m confident that you’ll be out on your ass in no time.”
Oh, fuck this.
