“Like I said, everything’s on my table. I’ll get it out of you sooner or later.”
How long did he think this arrangement was going to continue? “You better hurry. You return to Russia soon, no?”
“I’ve decided to stay until the twenty-eighth. My older brother is getting married in Nebraska that weekend, so I’m remaining in the States till then.”
Could I have had something to do with his decision?
He sipped his drink, waiting for me to reply. And waiting . . . “This is where you angle for multiple dates, telling me you’ll show me the town.”
Angle? That was something Edward would do. I gave Sevastyan a tight smile and patted his shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll get up to something. Have fun.”
His lips parted. “I gave you an in, and you didn’t take it. I find you a very singular creature.”
I laughed. “I’m singular? Psst, I’m not the one who gets off on whipping strange women.”
He gave me that DDG smile. “This is precisely what I’m talking about. You know what I’m worth, but you still give me lip. It’s incredibly refreshing.”
For once my sass (as my mother used to call it) was working for me!
“Unlike every single other escort I’ve been with, you didn’t try to upsell me after sex; you simply took my money.”
I jutted my chin. “You deserved that.”
“Maybe I did,” he conceded. “And you didn’t feign passion. In fact, you insisted on your own pleasure.”
“You’re a good-looking man. I find it hard to believe that no one gets turned on when they’re with you.” I glanced down. When had we gotten so close together? We now sat thigh to thigh.
“They have their reasons. Some have admitted that they keep that part of themselves separate from their clients. I’ve observed others so busy thinking about upselling me, or even landing me, that they don’t relax.”
And I’d told him, “Ow! Hold up.” I had to stifle a laugh.
“Or else an escort bills herself as a submissive, when she’s anything but. I’ve had many who swear they enjoy discipline and bondage, yet then I would see no evidence of it.”
Ivanna had told me that she initially enjoyed it. But one day she’d had five outcalls, had been tied up and whipped by five amateurs. Her experience had soured her on it.
“It’s not easy to find a true submissive,” the Russian continued. “One who’s beautiful and available would be snapped up.” He peered at me keenly.
Though I was beginning to suspect that kink with Máxim might just blow my mind, I wasn’t ready to sign on. “How did you discover your interest in that?”
He leaned back, glass in hand. “I’m in the business of information. For many years, I’ve brokered in it. I was investigating a particular man—one I thought I knew well—when I learned of his darker . . . leanings. I wanted to understand what drew him to that type of life. The more I learned, the more curious I became. I tried it and found it suited my needs.”
He didn’t sound like a man who’d discovered a secret passion and reveled in it. He talked about BDSM almost mechanically. “So you enjoy it.”
“It suits my needs,” he repeated.
“Then what made you decide to call for me today?”
“I was at a yacht party yesterday, hosted in my honor. Many businessmen attended, and even more escorts. As I had no intention of calling you again—and proving you right—I gravitated toward my usual.” He swirled ice in his glass. “But the blondes weren’t doing it for me. Figuring my tastes had changed, I approached a petite Latina. Didn’t work out either. Still I fought the impulse to call you. I made it to this afternoon. When I pulled up your picture, I decided I’d have what I truly wanted.”
Had he slept with the Latina? Me on Monday, her on Tuesday, me on Wednesday night? “So you had a taste test of sorts. I guess I outperformed her in bed?”
“I didn’t fuck her or anyone else there.”
I exhaled, relieved once more.
“And no one at that party was using a bed.”
“It sounds like an orgy.” Dios mío. “Do you often attend them?”
“I wouldn’t say often.” He turned my question back on me. “Do you?”
“I’ve never been to one.” I was open-minded about sex, but an orgy would never be in the cards for me. “That’s not my speed.”
“Have you ever slept with more than one man at a time?”
“I’ve never had sex with more than one man.” He’d think I was talking about at one time. And he would still disbelieve me. “I don’t want to.”
“Earlier, you balked hard. That’s unusual in your line of work, no? Still, I can see it.”
“Why?”
“I’ll wager your clients can barely handle you, much less another added to the mix.”
“Thanks. I think.” I drank.
“Have you ever even tried BDSM?”
I shook my head. “I wouldn’t want to be struck.”
“There’s more to it than that,” he said. “Whipping a woman is not a favorite aspect of mine.”
“Then why was a crop part of your script?” Maybe because it limited touch even more?
“If you’ve never tried any of it, then how do you know you won’t like it?” He’d deflected my question.
Because of my ineptitude at lying, I dodged and deflected, bobbing and weaving, and I was attuned to similar tactics in others. “I liked Monday night,” I told him, dodging his own question. “I liked how the weight of your body pressed down on mine, and our skin touched all over, and I could feel your big muscles flexing.” I leaned in, wanting closer to the heat emanating from him. At his ear, I murmured, “When your chest rubbed over my nipples while your cock plunged, I came until my vision blurred.”