chapter 8- the darkest dungeon iii

Catherine

“I’m not a princess. I’m not a little girl, Catherine.”

I let out sigh, dropping the domme act.

“I’m sorry. I misread the situation. You are in a Dungeon, Emi,” I say and wave my hand. “I thought you were enjoying this. The banter…”

“I was…I am,” she says suddenly nervous again.

“How old do you think I am?” I ask her. The bartender approaches. “The MudPaw Martini and another whiskey, Jackie.” She nods and starts prepping our drinks.

“I didn’t say I wanted it,” Emi pouts and I smile at her.

“But you need it,” I reply. “How old am I, Emi?”

“I don’t know…maybe thirty?” She squeaks. “I’m terrible at guessing ages!” She turns beat red when I give her a generous laugh. “I told you I’m bad at this.”

“Oh darling, you are wonderful at this,” I assure her. I take the whisky which comes up first obviously and take a long drink. “I’m thirty-five. Next month is the big 3–6.” Her mouth drops into a large o.

“You don’t look like it.”

“Well, I am. I own a very successful law firm. That takes time,” I say. “Didn’t know what you were biting into, did you? Look, I’m not looking to be your sugar momma.” I put my hand on my hip as her drink comes up. “Or your momma. I don’t roll like that. I’m a Domme. I have been for years and I enjoy it, but I wouldn’t mind…you know…other things.”

She doesn’t take the drink. So I take it for her and take a sip of it.

“Mmm, so good,” I say and she frowns at me, crossing her arms. “Talk to me, Emi. You can walk away anytime. You won’t hurt my feelings.”

“I-I don’t want to walk away,” she says, sticking out her chin. “I don’t want a mom or a sugar momma. I don’t want your money. I do fine on my own.” Money and age are a sensitive topics that’s obvious.

“Sounds fair,” I say. I offer her the drink, but she lifts an eyebrow at me as if she is expecting me to rip it away the moment she reaches for it. My heart aches at that. Who hurt you, Emi? A surge of unfamiliar protectiveness surges through me.

“What do you want if you don’t want to do your domme stuff with me?” She asks nervously.

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t like to…I just want something a little more…real.”

“Real? Like romance?” She asks hopefully. I look at her a little stunned. She touches my arm. “That’s it, isn’t it?” I blush harder than I have in years.

She leans forward and kisses my cheek softly and takes the drink swiftly from my hand. She takes a big drink of it, getting the chocolate rimmed around her mouth in an adorable way that nearly makes me melt.

“What?” I say so distracted by the stray drops. She giggles behind her hand and drinks some more. Then, she licks her lips sensually.

“This is sooo good, Catherine. Do you want me to call you, Mistress?” She asks sweetly.

“Oh darling, you will have to think long and hard about your limits and boundaries before you start calling me mistress,” I say to her softly. She nods.

“Scarlett told me about that,” she says. “You’re pretty gorgeous, Catherine. Are you really interested in me?”

“What say we go on a date and see? How about next Friday? I know a divine little Italian restaurant in Uptown.”

She blushes a little. I touch her chin gently and make her soft blue eyes meet my chocolate brown ones.

“What is it?” I ask softly.

“I don’t know if I can afford it. Can we go someplace else?” She asks me. I take a deep breath, equally charmed and annoyed that she won’t let me spoil her as I so want to do.

“This time yes, but you are going to ruin my domme reputation if you won’t let me take care of the tab,” I say with sultry smile. She drinks some more, nearly finishing the pricy drink. “Let me get you another one.”

“Catherine—“

I order her another, willing to negotiate it later.