Elegant Sins (Dark Secret Society 1)

“Red means the female may be shared, but only at her master’s choice and with his agreement.”

His agreement.

I didn’t miss the fact that there was no mention of the women’s opinion anywhere.

But Montgomery apparently didn’t miss my silence at his words. He took my shoulders and turned me so that I was facing him.

“We don’t force any women to be here,” he said. “They choose to be here as much as the men do. As much as you’re choosing to be here. We’re all adults, and these are the games that adults who can afford to, like to play.”

My thoughts roiled for several moments. The fact that he’d brought it up gave me the sense that I wasn’t the only one with mixed feelings about all this. But then I smiled and made my face as affable as possible, eyebrows lifted. “I didn’t say a thing.”

“Oh. Right.” He let go of my shoulders and backed away. “Anyway. Let’s just go get tonight done. It’s good you’ve already showered. I’ll go get ready now.” He raked his hands through his hair like he didn’t know what else to do with them and then disappeared into the bathroom suite.

Montgomery took a long shower and even longer to get ready so that by the time he appeared in his crisp tux, I had the feeling we were running late.

Mrs. H had been in to do my hair and makeup, not trusting me to do it myself since I’d arrived that first day such a “disaster” in her words. But she was still done before Montgomery appeared from the bathroom, and I heard her tut tutting under her breath as she worried the watch face on her wrist.

Montgomery didn’t appear to have a care in the world as he strode into the room and reached out an arm for me, though. “No coat tonight,” was all he said without ever truly looking in my direction. “They’ll expect you to arrive without anything on but the collar.”

I clutched the silk robe I’d put on while he was in the bathroom a little tighter. Then I consciously loosened my grip and, after letting out a breath, I slipped out of it and let it pool on the floor at my feet.

Montgomery only slipped and shot me a single, quick glance—and only at my bare ankles no less—before color rose in his cheeks and he looked firmly toward the door, proffering his arm again.

“Come on. Stay by my side. We’re fashionably late, but I didn’t want to be there for all the beginning small talk and bullshit. The quicker we can get in and out, the better.”

Was it just my imagination, or did he seem nervous tonight? I swallowed hard and a hand strayed to the thick black leather collar at my neck.

“Is everything going to be okay?” I asked in a small voice.

“What?” For the first time in hours, he looked me full in the face, his stern expression softening just the tiniest bit. “Everything will be fine. Just don’t leave my side even for a second.”

I nodded up and down like a bobble head. He didn’t have to tell me twice.

I hurried over to his side and took his arm. The rich, soft fabric of his high-thread-count tux coat was cool and smooth against my fingertips. A shiver went down my spine at the contact, and not just because of the air conditioning on the hot day or even the daunting unknown task that lay ahead.

It was because I was touching him. And if the past had been any indication, tonight we’d be touching a lot more. After a week starved of all contact, I was about to be tossed back into the deep end.

But I was wearing the black collar. He’d chosen it so that he’d be the only one touching me. It was ridiculous that the thought made my chest warm.

Before I had longer to linger thinking about all the night might hold, Montgomery was striding us toward the door and then out into the hall.

There I was, naked as the day I was born apart from the collar, striding down the smooth, oiled floors of one of the oldest and most well-respected mansions in the whole state.

I would have felt out of place, except that when we got to the grand staircase, there was already a tableau of naked and writhing bodies laid out before us, waiting downstairs in the room below.

My eyes popped wide open, something I immediately regretted considering some of the old, wrinkly, extra fleshy specimens on display.

There was one pot-bellied old man in the corner on a grand wing-backed chair being ridden like the young woman was trying for a barrel-racing championship. Another woman was contorting herself in a feat of gymnastic prowess over two men, one underneath and one on top of her, each of them grunting and humping each of her holes—