I blink away the moisture building. “Who will I play with, if it’s only me?” I ask coyly.
Gray laughs, and his eyes glitter with the best kind of mischief. “Mostly the king, although you might need a knight to save you on occasion, or maybe even a rogue. Although the king is a bit of a rogue.”
His expression turns dark and sultry, but I’m a tad overwhelmed and I don’t respond in kind. I don’t respond at all.
“Why don’t you explore a little?” Gray is in tune to my moods, my fears, and anxieties. He must sense that I need space to untangle the welling emotion.
I ignore the throne in the room, the stocks, the hooks on the ceiling, and those protruding from the walls, cleverly disguised as embellishments. I walk past the bank of drawers filled with the queen’s toys, or maybe they belong to the king. I glance up at the goodies for impact play that are part of every room on this floor. But what captures my attention is the wall of portraits, each positioned in an ornate gold frame.
Some are sexy images that I realize are actually priceless paintings. Interspersed between the precious art are renderings and photographs, framed exquisitely, making them appear priceless too. There are pictures of Digger’s Hollow, of me as homecoming queen, and another as a Magnolia Princess—the pictures had appeared in the newspaper, years ago. They’ve all been enhanced and fit in perfectly alongside the more valuable pieces. There’s also an array of photos Gray took over the last several months—candids of me, and a picture Gabby took of us at Christmas.
“This is where the past and the present meet to build the future,” he says quietly.
“I still worry that my life will swallow you and turn you into something that neither of us recognize.” He combs his fingers through my hair, gently brushing the loose strands off my face. “This is where we come to recalibrate when we can’t find the little girl from Digger’s Hollow, or when my own demons are rumbling, or when the world is making so much noise that it threatens our love.”
The lump in my throat is far too big to swallow. Gray wraps his arm around my shoulder, and kisses my head.
I’m lost. Lost, because although the bones of this fantasy were designed by Jolie and Gil, Gray’s hand is all over it. There is not one object in this room, big or small, that doesn’t have some significance. There is nothing in this space that doesn’t have a reason for being here, one Gray can explain to me if I ask. I’m sure of it.
But I’m mostly lost, because his love is so much more than I ever dared to imagine for myself.
“Come with me,” he says, leading me toward the door where we entered.
“This is where the queen disrobes.” He points to a small alcove with an elaborate coat rack and a tufted bench. “No clothes are worn in the Queen’s Quarters. While she’s far, far more important than the politicians, the media moguls, and the titans of industry who play on this floor, like them, she must fully submit to the fantasy when she enters, handing over her worries, her fears, and her burdens. They remain at the door.”
I’m not overwhelmed by the riches in this room, or even by the comparison to the rich and powerful. No, I’m overcome by this man—his regard for me, his seemingly endless love. A man who would pour himself into creating a jewel box just for me.
“The only thing you’re permitted to wear once you enter is this,” he says, pulling out a velvet pouch from his pocket.
I assume it’s a bullet vibrator or some other small devilish toy, and I grin at him.
Gray no longer has the hungry look of a predator. His characteristic smirk is a small, humble smile, and his eyes have a vulnerability that he would be loath to admit.
As soon as he places the pouch in my hands, I know it’s something weightier than a toy.
I stare at it for several seconds, using my index finger to circle the circumference of the object through the luxurious nap.
“Do you need some help?”
I shake my head, and pull open the strings, gently removing the ring from the pouch.
It’s silver—maybe white gold or platinum—with a brilliantly cut stone. A sapphire, I think. But I’m not sure of any of it. It’s not the sort of thing a girl from Digger’s Hollow comes across every day. The one thing I do know is it’s big enough to choke a chicken—maybe even a pony.
Gray tips my chin up. “It’s a blue diamond,” he explains, without making me feel inadequate. “This one is pure, without any secondary colors to muddy it. It’s the color of your eyes when you’re happy, and when you’re aroused,” he adds, tracing the contours of my face. “It’s rare, like you.”
He takes the ring out of my hand, and slips it on my finger. “You don’t need to tell me now. Wear it and see how it feels.”
I reach for him, and he wraps me tight against his chest. I can’t talk, because I’ll start to cry and I still hate that. But I don’t need to wait. It feels right. Not the ring, but his arms. His heartbeat. His rock-steady presence.
We hold each other for a long time, while the last year melts away, reshaping itself into foundational bricks sturdy enough to build a life on.
I peek around him to the words inscribed in gold leaf on the wall:
You can have structure without suffocating.
You can guide and lead without being overbearing.
You can follow without relinquishing all power and control.
You can hold each other up without holding each other back.
Without a drop of hesitancy, I gaze into his eyes, letting my fingertips caress his strong jaw. “I will follow, wherever you lead, for all my days on this earth.”
There is no gentleness as he claims my mouth. No apologies. I wouldn’t want it any other way.
“The queen kneels, you know,” he murmurs near my ear. It’s playful, but the gravel in his voice suggests a game not meant for children.
“She sucks cock, too,” I whisper. “I watched The Crown.”
He throws his head back, his chest heaving with a rich laughter that will warm me on the coldest days, for the rest of our lives.
When he unlaces my dress, his fingers engage in a long, slow tease. He doesn’t seem at all surprised to find I’m not wearing a single thing underneath.
“You’re a dirty little queen.” He grins wolfishly. “The best kind.”
Here’s a sneak peek of what’s next! Antonio is the broodiest sexiest bastard you’ll ever meet…
I’m a cold, heartless sonofabitch who runs my family’s port empire, with its gritty docks, and dark cellars that hold priceless vintages.
But I find plenty of time to play, and there’s no shortage of beautiful women who like to play too. They’ve been the perfect distraction from a death-bed promise I made years ago.
There’s only one problem.
That promise has come due.
(For sexy updates on Antonio’s little problem, make sure you’re signed up for my newsletter! evacharles.com)
If you enjoyed Decadent, please consider leaving a short review so others can find it too!
Need a little group therapy now that you’ve read Decadent, and you know what’s coming next? Maybe more of those sexy Charleston men? I have just the place for you! Join me in JD’s Closet on Facebook for exclusive teasers, juicy tidbits, and special treats.