Dark Needs (Tales of Dystopian Decadence Book 1) Read Online Free Page B
Author: Finley Blake
on fire.” I sensed him moving around me, assessing me. “When I asked Miss Eden for a mistress, I didn’t expect her to set me up with someone who behaves like she still belongs in primary school. My tastes might be a bit specialized, but let me assure you I do not get off on the idea of fucking a little school girl.”
“Perhaps the headmistress made a mistake. You can let her know you meant one of the classically-trained submissives, instead of a special,” I suggested.
“No, I think not.” He stopped in front of me. All I saw were black pants from the knees down, black slippers on his feet. Clearly, he was ready to go. No need to unlace shoes – just kick off the slippers and drop the pants.
Oh, baby .
I ignored my sarcastic inner voice as he spoke once again.
“Miss Eden knows what I need and she knows how to match her students well. You wouldn’t be here if she didn’t think you were the right choice. Now, why don’t you stop acting like a child and look at me?”
“Or what?” I asked.
“I’m told you like punishment and humiliation, and that it takes some creative thinking to persuade you to see your master’s point of view. Let me assure you, Miss Johnstone, I am nothing if not creative.”
I finally looked up at him, meeting his dark gaze. He did resemble Mr. Breckinridge in coloring, as I told Azure, but that was the extent of their similarities. The man before me was quite a bit taller than I was. If he took another step closer, I would have to crane my neck to look up at him. He had a jaw that clenched visibly when he was frustrated, as well as what I had to admit was a rather adorable nose, which almost balanced the harshness of his features. But the flinty eyes above that nose offset its softening effect and made me feel like prey under his unwavering gaze.
“You don’t like me,” he said again. “Why is that?”
“I don’t dislike you,” I answered.
“Really?” He folded his arms across his chest. “Elaborate, then.”
I shrugged. “I hate you.”
To my surprise, he took a step back, his eyebrows raised. “What did I ever do to you?”
“It’s what you did to Delilah Johnstone that pisses me off.” I knew I was crossing a line, but I decided the headmistress had only herself to blame if I assaulted or even murdered one of her vile Regime patrons.
His eyes searched my face until he finally said, “I’ve heard that name, but I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“She was a who, not a what, and how could you not know? Beautiful woman – brown hair and brown eyes like mine, nice to everyone… even to the one person who killed her.”
He turned away from me then, and I realized he was not at all concerned about what I was saying. Hell, he wasn’t even nervous. “Miss Johnstone,” he said. “I remember your mother, of course. When she died, a brilliant flame in our world was snuffed out. But I certainly had no hand in it.”
“It was only three years ago. Do you forget so quickly? Did she matter so little to you that you could turn in your lover to the Regime government for her illicit suffragist activities?”
When he turned back to face me, he was holding a folded-up piece of paper in his hand. Almost hesitantly, he extended it toward me. “I am not the one your mother was sleeping with, Adette.”
Hearing him say my given name made me want to take a swing at him. But I just looked down at the paper he held, waiting for his next move.
“Read it,” he said, jiggling his hand in front of my face.
I reached out and took the paper from him, holding it by the corner so our fingers would not touch. With a glare at him, I unfolded and read it.
By the time I was done, my rage burned even hotter.
“She was my father’s mistress for several years. He couldn’t resist the idea of claiming the most beautiful and sought-after courtesan in Los Angeles. My father is the type of person who has to have something everyone else wants, you see.”
“Why
“Perhaps the headmistress made a mistake. You can let her know you meant one of the classically-trained submissives, instead of a special,” I suggested.
“No, I think not.” He stopped in front of me. All I saw were black pants from the knees down, black slippers on his feet. Clearly, he was ready to go. No need to unlace shoes – just kick off the slippers and drop the pants.
Oh, baby .
I ignored my sarcastic inner voice as he spoke once again.
“Miss Eden knows what I need and she knows how to match her students well. You wouldn’t be here if she didn’t think you were the right choice. Now, why don’t you stop acting like a child and look at me?”
“Or what?” I asked.
“I’m told you like punishment and humiliation, and that it takes some creative thinking to persuade you to see your master’s point of view. Let me assure you, Miss Johnstone, I am nothing if not creative.”
I finally looked up at him, meeting his dark gaze. He did resemble Mr. Breckinridge in coloring, as I told Azure, but that was the extent of their similarities. The man before me was quite a bit taller than I was. If he took another step closer, I would have to crane my neck to look up at him. He had a jaw that clenched visibly when he was frustrated, as well as what I had to admit was a rather adorable nose, which almost balanced the harshness of his features. But the flinty eyes above that nose offset its softening effect and made me feel like prey under his unwavering gaze.
“You don’t like me,” he said again. “Why is that?”
“I don’t dislike you,” I answered.
“Really?” He folded his arms across his chest. “Elaborate, then.”
I shrugged. “I hate you.”
To my surprise, he took a step back, his eyebrows raised. “What did I ever do to you?”
“It’s what you did to Delilah Johnstone that pisses me off.” I knew I was crossing a line, but I decided the headmistress had only herself to blame if I assaulted or even murdered one of her vile Regime patrons.
His eyes searched my face until he finally said, “I’ve heard that name, but I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“She was a who, not a what, and how could you not know? Beautiful woman – brown hair and brown eyes like mine, nice to everyone… even to the one person who killed her.”
He turned away from me then, and I realized he was not at all concerned about what I was saying. Hell, he wasn’t even nervous. “Miss Johnstone,” he said. “I remember your mother, of course. When she died, a brilliant flame in our world was snuffed out. But I certainly had no hand in it.”
“It was only three years ago. Do you forget so quickly? Did she matter so little to you that you could turn in your lover to the Regime government for her illicit suffragist activities?”
When he turned back to face me, he was holding a folded-up piece of paper in his hand. Almost hesitantly, he extended it toward me. “I am not the one your mother was sleeping with, Adette.”
Hearing him say my given name made me want to take a swing at him. But I just looked down at the paper he held, waiting for his next move.
“Read it,” he said, jiggling his hand in front of my face.
I reached out and took the paper from him, holding it by the corner so our fingers would not touch. With a glare at him, I unfolded and read it.
By the time I was done, my rage burned even hotter.
“She was my father’s mistress for several years. He couldn’t resist the idea of claiming the most beautiful and sought-after courtesan in Los Angeles. My father is the type of person who has to have something everyone else wants, you see.”
“Why