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The Consequence (The Evolution of Sin 3)

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It occurred to me that Sinclair would be furious at the idea of someone else dressing me in racy lingerie, of another man taking me to a public playroom. I didn’t want him enraged, with me or anyone else, but I truly felt that the only way to convince him of my investment in the scene was to pursue it independently of him. If he could only see what submitting did to me, he would have to understand.

And maybe if I were a better sub, he wouldn’t be able to keep himself from me like he had been.

“You’ll invite him then?” I asked Cage as I followed him into a spacious change room.

I was only mildly surprised when the saleswoman left us alone inside, this was Paris after all, the city of romance and not America, which Sebastian often claimed was run by prudes.

I began to strip, unashamed in front of Cage. He was a rockstar, for God’s sake, he’d seen way more appealing naked bodies than mine.

For his part, he averted his eyes as he took a seat on a velvet bench.

“I will. We will get you settled first and then I will let him know that you followed me to the event. Give it fifteen minutes and he’ll show up in a rage.” His obsidian eyes flickered my way and widened. “Especially if you are wearing that.”

I blushed as I pulled up the last stocking and attached it to the garter belt strap. I struck a silly pose for him. “Do you like?”

His eyes smoldered but his posture was casual as he leaned back against the wall. “If you do not take your own sexuality seriously, Elle, how can you expect anyone else to? Look in the mirror and tell me what you see.”

I swallowed hard past the knot of insecurity growing in my throat but did as he said. Even though I knew Cage wasn’t as into the scene as Sinclair was, he still had a very effective Dom voice.

The woman staring back at me wore a tight black corset with stiff lace embroidery and sheer panels that nipped in her waist to extreme proportions and highlighted the creamy swell of her full breasts above the rise of the sweetheart neckline. Inky black thigh highs encased her curvy legs, exposing a panel of white skin that was somehow extraordinarily sexy against the starkness of the black lingerie. Her red hair spilled like wine across her shoulders and down her back and her lips grew wet with moisture as she chewed on one.

“Look at yourself and tell me the truth, that you have never seen a sexier woman before in all your life.” Cage’s voice reached me through the haze of my own self-infatuation.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” I protested on a breath.

“Then you are wrong,” he retorted. “Maybe this will be easier for you; how would Sinclair react if he saw you like this?”

I could picture the exact shade of blue his eyes would darken too, the color of the sky just before it tips into nightscape when it is still just barely electrified with light. His jaw would clench and tick with restraint and his voice would wind itself around me, seductive and heady as drug smoke.

My entire body shivered and flushed.

“Exactly,” Cage agreed, satisfied with my response. “This is the one you will get. And this, you will wear as well.”

He got up swiftly and gently tied a length of velvet black ribbon around my neck, like a makeshift collar. It reminded me of the painting from the museum, Olympia, with the woman collared in much the same way. My fingers fluttered against the ribbon as my pulse hammered.

“Hopefully, by the end of the evening at Madame Claire’s, Sinclair will give you a collar of your own but for now, this will do.”

I swallowed heavily and straightened my shoulders. “I’m going to get him back, Cage.”

He nodded soberly. “I’ve no doubt of it.”

Despite both our confidences, my knees shook as I took off the expensive garment and gave it to Cage to pay for as my Christmas present.

If things didn’t go the way I needed them to, Thursday could very well be the last night of my new relationship with Sin.

Madame Claire lived, unsurprisingly, in Montmartre, the trendy, artist neighborhood built on steeply curving streets surrounding the Sacré Coeur. Her apartment was two floors but oddly constructed because the top level had at one time been the servant’s quarters. Now, it was a spacious, open concept space where nearly everything was visible as soon as you opened the door.

Which is why I frozen in the frame while Cage moved further into the foray.

My eyes danced over the scantily clad people present, some talking innocuously over glasses of champagne while others took up more daring poses. There was a man in leather chaps kneeling on the floor on all fours with a tray of drinks balanced on his back. Another man, this one dressed in an impeccable suit, pet him on the head as he spoke with a friend. A woman wearing nothing but scarlet red nipple tassels and a matching leather collar was strapped onto some kind of enormous cross. The man before her was carefully but brutally, laying into her with a red leather cane, leaving vivid red stripes along her skin.


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