The Virgin. Tiffany Reisz
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New York
“BEWARE THE IDES of March” read the note Kingsley had slipped under her bedroom door. “Don’t drink any alcohol today. Dress in your finest and wait for me by the Rolls at ten.”
Eleanor supposed this note was Kingsley’s version of a birthday card? Card and invitation. She hadn’t planned on a big party for her twenty-sixth birthday. Sounded like Kingsley had planned one for her.
When evening turned to night and the city turned on its lights and switched off its inhibitions, Kingsley put her in the back of his Rolls-Royce. He had a smile on his face, a secret little smile. Something told her she was about to get her birthday present.
“You know I’ve had sex in the back of a Rolls-Royce,” she reminded him. “So don’t even ask.”
She’d had sex with him in the back of a Rolls-Royce so many times she’d lost count. Luckily it was a limousine-style Rolls that kept the backseats separated from the driver by a partition and a thick black curtain.
“I know you’ve had sex in the back of the Rolls-Royce. But not with him.”
“Him who?” Eleanor asked.
The car pulled over. The door opened.
A young man of about twenty-three years old with dark spiky hair, a handsome face and a dirty grin got into the car.
“Happy birthday, beautiful,” he said.
“Oh my God. Griffin.” Eleanor threw herself into Griffin’s arms, and he pulled her so close to him it almost hurt. “When did you get back?”
“Two nights ago.”
“And you didn’t call me?” she asked, feigning irritation.
“Surprise,” he said, grinning.
She sat on this lap and wrapped her arms around him. Griffin...she loved this kid. Had it only been eight months ago when Kingsley had first summoned Griffin to the town house and shown him the ropes? She’d been in the ropes that night as Kingsley beat her and fucked her, all as part of a demonstration showing Griffin what kink in action had looked like. He’d taken to the scene like a duck to water, but old habits had died hard. Kingsley had caught him snorting coke in one of the town house bathrooms one day and stone drunk the next day. Kingsley had enough demons of his own, he’d said, without inviting Griffin’s demons over for tea. So Kingsley had laid down the ultimatum—go to rehab and get clean or...get out. Griffin had gone to rehab.
And now he was back.
“God, I missed you,” she said as she pressed her face against his warm strong neck and inhaled cedar and suede. Griffin always smelled as if he’d just stepped out of a shower.
“Good,” he said, taking her by the upper arms and positioning her on his lap. “Because I’m your birthday present.”
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