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“I’ve been reliablyinformed that my birthday cake isn’t a real cake,” hewarned.
“I assume some sexy girl isgoing to pop out of it.” I paused. “Or a sexy guy, since you’reinto both. But a girl is traditional.”
“We’ll see,” is all hesaid, and I had the feeling that his fake cake had been elaboratelyplanned out by him. I couldn’t imagine Matt, at least, the Matt Iknew, having any kind of party he hadn’t controlled from the groundup.
After all, he was in thebusiness of making people’s fantasies come true. He used that lineoften enough. There was no way it didn’t also apply tohim.
He only proved my point bysaying, “I hope you don’t mind, but I thought that, because it’s mybirthday, you’d wear a little something special for me.”
And of course, I would wearsomething special for him. I would have jumped out of the damncake, myself, if he’d asked. That desire to please him was startingto frighten me a little.
It didn’t make mefrightened ofhim. In fact, everything he’d done since the moment we’d firsthooked up had reinforced my impression of him as a safe harbor, asecure vault for all my most secret desires and twisted fantasies.And it was that security that terrified me. I couldn’t make him onemore person for me to rely on.
But I smiled and said,“Depends on what you want me to wear.”
He took me by the hands andled me into the bedroom. “I liked your wrapping so much when youwere delivered, I wouldn’t mind seeing it again.”
It wasn’t the same ribbonas before; this was a pale pink, and I wouldn’t be tied up in it.There were already two huge bows, one adorning the front of astrapless bra in the same shade, the other attached to a steel buttplug, like the red ribbon had been.
“Let me go do my makeup,” Isaid, arching a brow. “And then you can help me getdressed.”
He followed me to the bathroom, where Iplayfully ignored him and set to work on my face. I slathered onsome moisturizer, then tapped primer over my eyelids while hewatched, faint amusement twisting his lips.
“I just realized youhaven’t been wearing makeup most of this trip,” he said, tiltinghis head as I rummaged for an eyeshadow brush.
I shook my head. “No, Ihave not. You didn’t notice because of my naturalbeauty.”
“That’s true.” He steppedup behind me, one arm slinking around my waist. He palmed my breastover my satin nightgown, then slipped his hand inside.
I arched my back, pushing into hishand. I liked the way his hand looked on my body. I liked the waywe looked together.
I would miss that when Ileft.
I force aside my pang ofsadness. This evening was about partying in the most degenerateways possible. “What should I expect tonight?”
He kissed his way down theside of my neck, sending a shiver through me. “You should expectall that pretty makeup to get ruined.”
“I have very good settingspray,” I shot back, and squirmed out of his grasp. “But seriously.I’m your present, right? You get to use me however youwant.”
“I like the sound of that,”he interjected.
“But,” I went on with aroll of my eyes, “It’s only fair that I know what I’m walkinginto.”
“You’re right.” He gave myshoulders a squeeze and stepped back. “You were at the castlebefore, so you know more or less what you can expect. Except thistime, with balloons. And people fawning all over me.”
“People fawn all over you,regardless.” I paused. “Balloons are a fetish for somepeople”
“That party is the secondThursday of every month,” he clarified. “But I’m not going to stopyou if you want to indulge.”
“Hard pass.” I hatedballoons. Carefully patting shimmering eyeshadow over my lid, Iasked, “What do you want me to do, while I’m there?”
“Be my arm candy.” Hestated it so matter-of-factly, I couldn’t even be annoyed by it.“Let me show you off. And share you, maybe.”
“Sharing is caring,” Iquipped by way of confirmation. “So, stay at your side, make youlook gorgeous—”
“You’ll look gorgeous. I’mafraid of how I’ll look in comparison.”
“Ha ha.” I blinked at mywork in the mirror, then moved on to the other eye. “So, it’s likea date.”