Master's Flame Read Online Free

was strong and steady for the most part, and when he wasn’t, she let him have it. They were no longer lovers.
    She had a regrettable habit of getting bored fast.
    Because of that, Valentina spent most of her nights at
Le Citadel
, the Cirque’s secret sex club. Jason had taken her the first time, along with his fiancée, Sara, who was Mr. Lemaitre’s daughter. Valentina liked Sara because she was beautiful and exotic, with light blue eyes just like Mr. Lemaitre’s, but she wasn’t sure Sara liked her. Valentina never would have flirted with Jason if she knew he and Sara were engaged to be married. Even after Valentina apologized, Sara had given her baleful looks.
    Valentina had a way of alienating people even though she tried to be warm and exuberant. Jason called it “recklessness” and he didn’t like it. He warned Valentina that he would monitor her activities at the Citadel, and bar her from the club if she couldn’t control herself. People laughed and embraced at the Citadel, kissed and flirted and fucked right in the open if they felt like it. In the back rooms, men and women played more serious games. Dominance and submission. Power exchange. Mr. Lemaitre had his own private dungeon built of stone and steel, where people bowed before him and called him
Le Maître
, a variation of his surname that meant “The Master.” Valentina heard all this secondhand since Jason wouldn’t let her go to Mr. Lemaitre’s back room, or any of the back rooms.
    “Not yet,” he said. “Not until he approves it. Those are the rules.”
    But Mr. Lemaitre wasn’t around and Valentina was dying to know what went on behind those walls. She wondered what it would be like to be one of his slaves, to yield to his barely-leashed sexual power. She’d never considered such things, but she thought, with someone like
Le Maître
, she might enjoy it. She loved trying new things and he’d said that she inspired him...
    Speaking of which, she hoped she would inspire Mr. Lemaitre today. He was finally back in Paris to judge the progress of
Élémental
’s acts. She hoped he loved her work. In her fantasies, he loved it so much that he rushed over and took her in his arms and whispered, “I want you,” or something gruff and demanding like that. But what if he didn’t love her act? What if she fell or messed up? She moaned just thinking about it.
    Priya paused and frowned down at her. “What? I hurt you, girl?”
    “No, it’s okay. Don’t be gentle,” Valentina said. “We’re performing for Mr. Lemaitre today. I need to be really loose.”
    The masseuse’s dark brows snapped together. “From what I hear, you are already loose enough.”
    Valentina ignored her, concentrating instead on relaxing her muscles and joints. She began a mental exercise where she visualized herself in performance, imagining her body’s alignment, the placement of her limbs, even the graceful form of her fingers. Priya moved from her shoulders to her spine, digging her palms into the vertebrae and carefully realigning them. It felt so good that Valentina moaned again. “Priya, you’re a goddess. Don’t stop.”
    “Hush,” said the Indian woman.
    “Oh,
yes
. More. That feels so good.”
    Priya’s magic fingers massaged away all the tension and worry, until Valentina sailed on a sea of relaxation. A good masseuse could make you feel like a brand new person. Valentina’s moans rose with the increasing pressure of Priya’s fingers. Suddenly, the door flung open.
    Jason scowled at her, arms crossed over his chest. “Just checking.”
    Priya flashed him an irritated look. “Mr. Beck, I am almost done. She want to be loose. I’m making her loose.”
    Jason lounged against the door frame. “I think she’s already loose enough.”
    “What?” Valentina’s temper flared. “Priya made that same joke five minutes ago.”
    “You might ask yourself why.”
    “It’s insulting.”
    “Insulting or accurate? I could hear you moaning all the way