“Mademoiselle, monsieur. Is there something I can assist you with? The hour is very late.”
“We're not guests—not yet, anyway,” Asher said.
“Well, I'm afraid that it would be impossible. We are—”
“Nothing is impossible,” Asher interrupted as he opened his coat, withdrew a block of euros, and set them down on the counter in front of the concierge.
The man's eyes widened as he glanced at the stack of money in front of him.
“Er, yes, yes . . . You are correct monsieur. Nothing at all is impossible! Will you be wanting the presidential suite, then?”
“You read my mind,” Asher responded with a smile and took a business card from his coat pocket. “All my info is on there,” he said. “You can fill out whatever forms you need when you get back downstairs. For now, just get us to the room—oh, and send a bottle of champagne up, please.”
“Certainly, monsieur. I will take you there at once. Please, please, follow me.”
We followed him up the great, curved stairway hand in hand. He led us to a room with two ornate, gilded doors which he threw open with dramatic flair, revealing a room that looked as if it could have been that of the Sun King himself.
“The presidential suite!” he announced. “While it is decorated with old world charm, you will find that it has all of the 21st century amenities you would need. There is a hot tub in the bathroom, and a media center—”
“I’m sure it will do nicely,” Asher said cutting his speech short. “We'll buzz you if we need any help. Right now, though, we need to be alone.”
“Understood, monsieur,” the concierge replied with a hint of a knowing smile.
He handed us the keys and then hurried back downstairs.
We stepped inside, closed the ornate doors behind us, and immediately resumed kissing. Once more, the passion began to flow like water through a broken dam. We began to stumble toward the bed as we kissed—but then I had a different idea. I knew that Asher craved control, and I had to see what would happen if he was denied that control.
I pulled back and pushed him away from me.
“What . . . what's wrong?” he stammered, breathing heavily.
His arousal was easily seen through his pants—he was ready to go.
“I'm going to the bathroom to freshen up,” I said. “You wait outside.”
“Wait?! No!”
“Do you want this or not?” I asked, keeping my tone calm and even.
“I . . . Oh, God, I do. Yes.”
“Then you'll do what I say,” I replied matter-of-factly. “And, I'm telling you to wait here until I'm ready.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he agreed, although I could see that was unhappy about it.
That was good. I wasn't about to let him have complete control over me. I sashayed into the bathroom, shifting my hips as seductively as I could. I could feel his hungry eyes devouring every step I took—undressing me, violating me. It made my blood pump with a beautiful heat.
I stepped into the bathroom and closed the door.
Once inside, I nearly gasped at the opulence of the bathroom. It was huge—the size of a living room, and all the fittings were gold. The soaring ceiling was, like the main room, painted with classical figures by what appeared to be an old master in a past century. A gilded mirror made the place look even more spacious.
In the center, sunk to floor level, was the hot tub. I walked over the cool marble floor, kicking off my shoes and removing my dress and underwear. I turned on the hot tub, and smiled as the bubbles started to flow. I dipped my toes into the water. It was cool, but warming up quickly.
“Asher!” I called out.
“Can I come in now?”
“No. But make sure they bring the champagne up.”