up so it's off her face but still down. Her Malin collar adorns her neck, with the leash, which I haven't allowed to be attached to it since the last time we were here, trailing from it. It hangs over her cleavage. The diamond ball grazes her sex.
She's beautiful. Sexy. Sinful as hell.
I hate how hard my dick is right now.
She's going to drive me crazy all night.
I need to take control of this situation before it's too late.
I'm not sure how it's possible to keep the boundaries tonight without breaking the bylaws.
Her eye makeup is darker, making her blue eyes pop even more. She tilts her head and licks her plump, red lips with her innocent expression. Her voice is full of sugar. "We need to go, Malin."
Gustave glances at his watch. "We have another half hour before we need to be there."
In French, she replies, "Not Malin and me. Right, my husband?"
I finish my drink. A dark corner will be best. Ma belle has thought of the best solution. I will concentrate on her and make her forget all the others around us.
I step over to her, fist her hair, and gently tug it so my face hovers over hers. Her eyes widen with fire, and my gut twists in conflict.
She was correct. I love her fire. At the same time, I fear for her when I see the flames.
I lean to her ear and, in French, say, "I'm not sure if I should kiss you or spank you for wearing this tonight."
She takes my hand and slides it behind her, on her juicy ass.
My dick twitches against her stomach, pressing into the diamond leash.
Her lips turn up. "Why don't you do both?"
She's too hard to resist. I brush my lips to hers, intending only to give her a taste, but she parts her lips and kisses me as if I'm her meal and circling her hips so the ball moves between us.
Who is submitting to whom here?
She whimpers so quietly, I question if I misheard it.
I pull back, attempting one final time to change her mind, hoping she tells me she would rather have me find a way to keep our boundary tonight. "You want to go now?"
"Please," she whispers in a desperate tone, her blue eyes already full of need.
I brush my lips to hers again but deny her when she parts her mouth and spin her toward the door instead. I take her hand and lead her out of the apartment and through the embassy.
Halfway there, she moves my hand so it's over the ball and slides the leash around my fingers.
When I bought the collar and leash, I did it because it was expected. I never imagined she would like it or encourage me to use it.
How will ma belle be okay with just me when this is no longer in our life? I can't get the thought out of my mind. I wish I had an answer or could put my fear at rest. Then I glance toward her.
Her eyes burn with anticipation and lust.
I wrap the leash around my fist and increase the tension, and approval moves into those eyes. Her lips blow heated breath.
The disdain for myself grows. My pulse flares, lighting up my cells, moving my blood forcefully through my body.
I shouldn't like this.
But I do.
Everything ma belle does, whether innocent or intentionally seductive, creates a need within me. She knows it. There is a satisfied confidence within her expression. It blooms whenever she morphs into this world. I've watched it develop over the last few months. And like all the parts of her, it turns me on.
I wish it didn't.
Another Global Leader from the Middle East, who I've met a few times, walks toward us. I'm not ready to deal with him or any of them yet.
With no notice, I move ma belle against the brick wall, pressing my body against her.
She gasps.
In French, I murmur in her ear, "Tell me you wore crotchless panties."
"Yes," she breathes, speaking in French as well. Her chest rises and falls faster against mine.
"And are they leather?"
"Yes. I wanted the scent of you on my skin and not theirs. I smelled limes while getting ready."
I groan. Ma belle always claims I remind her of leather and limes. I don't smell it. But she insists.
I inhale her peaches and coconut scent. She tried to wear perfume once, and I stopped her. I'm not sure if the Global Leader passed us or not, but I