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“Would it, then?” His blue eyes grew lively. His charisma was off—the—charts. “Continue.”
“We would’ve had sex again. In the water. Then, after more drinks, I would’ve ridden you on a lounge chair until your eyes rolled back in your head.”
He groaned low. “MSOG?”
Multiple shots on goal. “Sometimes I forget what a hobbyist you are.”
“The hobbyist and his courtesan. How long have you been doing this?”
“Would you believe me if I told you that you were my first client?”
“Nyet.”
“Wow. Don’t even want to think about your answer?”
“I ‘strong-armed’ an escort into a date and purchased her private line for ten thousand dollars. Before that, I downloaded her goddamned picture to my phone. If I’m to be brought this low, it shouldn’t be at the hands of a rank novice.”
My pique passed. “Is there a compliment in there?” Had he truly downloaded my picture?
“You fuck too well to be anything but a pro.”
“Thanks?” Maybe he liked the idea of me being a professional. If I convinced him I wasn’t, maybe the thrill would be gone for him.
And did it matter when I’d never see him again?
“Is Cat short for Catherine? Or maybe Catarina or Catalina?”
“I’m just Cat.”
“Tell me your real name.”
“That’s not even on the table.”
“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?”