3
Emma Lia Grant
“Wouldyou care for some freshly squeezed lemonade,miss?”
I stop reading and place my book over my stomach, looking up at Ray through my dark sunglasses. “Does it have lots of vodka init?”
“No, miss.” Ray chuckles. “I’m sure it would be tasty with some Grey Goose, but Mr. Broussard would be unhappy to come home and find yousloshed.”
“No. I don’t think he’d like that at all.” I certainly don’t want to provoke Mr. Broussard again. Not after the spanking he gave me last night for teasing him about the key and my leaving. My ass has just now stopped stinging. But that orgasm after the spanking… it was worth it. And I had earned another key by the time he was finished withme.
Two keys down. That’s two keys out of the way of pulling the rightone.
“I would love some lemonade. Thank you, Ray.” It’s another scorcher today. I haven’t checked the temperature, but it’s an easyninety.
Most people would be inside where it’s cool, but I love sitting in the garden behind the house. I find it peaceful. And the hot weather is fitting for my reading ofThe Thorn Birds. Makes me feel more drawn into the setting of the miserably hot Australianoutback.
“Hey!Whore!”
Whore?
I stop reading and look in the direction of the female voice carrying from the back door. The former sub. Boy, has her attitude toward me changed since our lastencounter.
“Hi, Claudia. How are youtoday?”
She looks like hell. “Fuck the niceties. I want to know what the hell you’re doing toTristan.”
WhatI’mdoing to him? The man is a Dom. You don’t do anything to him unless he commands it. “Is that a seriousquestion?”
“I’m dead serious, whore. I want to know what you’re doing tohim.”
“First of all, stop calling me whore. I’m not here by choice. And secondly, have you met Tristan Broussard the Dom? I don’t do anything to him that he doesn’t tell me todo.”
She crosses her arms and shakes her head. “I don’t believe that for asecond.”
“I honestly couldn’t care less what youbelieve.”
“Tristan is different with you. Softer. How are you making him be thatway?”
She seems to know an awful lot about my relationship with Tristan. “How do you know that he’s different withme?”
She looks away, her eyes on the ground. “He told me that you kissed and that youmadelove.”
I don’t understand what Claudia wants from me. A confirmation? Adenial?
She loves Tristan… and he’s fucking me. Why is she putting herself through the torment of asking me questions about us? There’s only one answer that I can think of: she is a true masochist who not only enjoys physical pain, but also emotionalpain.
“I was Tristan’s sub for more than a year, and he never kissed me. We never made love. He couldn’t even fuck me face-to-face. I want to know how you made him do those things withyou.”
I doubt it matters what I say. She isn’t going to accept that my relationship with him is different from hers. “I’m not his puppeteer. I didn’t make Tristan do anything. He wanted to kiss me. He wanted to make love to me face-to-face. He’s the one who wantedvanilla.”
Vanilla. Her face jerks upward to look at me when I say that word. “Tristan doesn’t dovanilla.”
“Tristan does do vanilla. And he does it very well.” I’ve never hadbetter.
“He does it very well? What does thatmean?”
“What do you think itmeans?”
