by Charles, Eva
Now we’re done.
Not just her, but me too. Done with the pity parties, and the sullenness that’s become a way of life. It’s done. Done.
When I look back on tonight, I won’t remember anything about sex or consequences. It was so much more.
Delilah gave me back my honor tonight. My purpose. I was rudderless, headed into the darkest depths of the ocean, and she threw an anchor.
The feisty little blonde gave me my life back. Again. She forced me to take it.
Beginning tomorrow morning, and every one after that, I vow to wake up early, rehab, shower, put on a suit and go downstairs to work. I’ll set lofty goals, because I have big plans for us, and I promise myself that I won’t act on them until I’m back to normal.
It’s all the incentive I need.
Epilogue
EIGHT MONTHS LATER
This morning, I received an engraved invitation to join the king for dessert. My king. I was instructed to take the elevator to the lower level at exactly eight o’clock. I have no idea what Gray’s planning, but I do know that Jolie and Gil, the fantasy creators, have been here a lot recently, reimagining some of the rooms.
As I descend into the playground of the rich and powerful, I think of nothing but Gray’s heart-stopping smile and his bright-blue eyes that twinkle playfully again.
While I’m sometimes overwhelmed by the excesses of the life we lead, I no longer worry about earning my keep, or that I’m not enough. I do, and I am. It’s that simple. And when it’s not, the man who owns my heart, sets me right.
Gray and I have forged a true partnership. At work, at home, and at play.
Most portrayals of Dominants and submissives are crafted to fit a stereotype. We found our own unique identity, as every couple should.
The rules are negotiated frequently, and compromises are made. Except in the bedroom. I choose to follow there. It frees me in a way that’s impossible to explain to anyone who doesn’t appreciate the dynamic.
Although Gray looks healthy and gorgeous, and he’s regained all the muscle he lost, I’ll go to my death with the image of him strapped to the table in his office, bloodied and barely breathing. The space has been entirely redone, the table is gone, but I still see the horror every time I enter the room.
His body and his mind have healed. The former took courage, perseverance, and heart. More than most humans have inside them for a lifetime. The latter took the threat of a vibrator shoved up his ass. If I had known it was going to have such a big impact, I would have made the threat sooner.
The elevator stops with a tiny bounce that makes the butterflies in my belly swirl faster. When the doors open, my man awaits.
“I hope you have something special for dessert. I put on my favorite dress.” It’s actually Gray’s favorite, with a lace-up bodice that he loves to unfasten with skilled, unhurried hands that never fail to bring me pleasure.
He pulls me to him, kissing me slowly, until I sway into his body, brushing against his cock. “You’re a tease,” he murmurs. “Let’s go find your treat.”
Gray leads me to a room at the very end of the hall. The plaque outside the door is covered. “Go on,” he encourages. “Peel off the wrapping.”
I glance between him and the plastic covering. “Is this my kind of dessert, or your kind?” I tease.
“We have similar appetites. But you’ll have to see if it suits you.”
I pull the sticky covering off. Queen’s Quarters is etched into the brass plate.
He hands me a shiny key and nods.
My hands are a little shaky as I slip the key into the lock and turn it. Not because I’m afraid, but because I’m eager and aroused. And Gray has the hungry look of a predator. I know everything that comes with that sexy look.
I pull open the door, and Gray flips the switch that illuminates a crystal chandelier hanging in the center of the room. It’s similar to the one at the beach that I love. The one that makes shadows dance on the ceiling.
The room is decorated opulently, in every shade of blue, the palest creams, and warm gold tones.
“Jolie wanted to make the room silver and blue,” he explains, “but the silver felt icy and aloof. I wanted something more inviting. Something that would envelop you in warmth, especially after we play. You get so cold.”
I turn to him and take his hand, squeezing his fingers. “It’s beautiful.” My heart is full, but the words don’t come easy.
“This is your room,” he says, the edges of his mouth curling ever so slightly. “Dedicated to your needs and desires. You’re the queen. No one else plays in this room besides you.”
I blink away the moisture building. “Who will I play with, if it’s only me?” I ask coyly.
Gray laughs, and his eyes glitter with the best kind of mischief. “Mostly the king, although you might need a knight to save you on occasion, or maybe even a rogue. Although the king is a bit of a rogue.”
His expression turns dark and sultry, but I’m a tad overwhelmed and I don’t respond in kind. I don’t respond at all.
“Why don’t you explore a little?” Gray is in tune to my moods, my fears, and anxieties. He must sense that I need space to untangle the welling emotion.
I ignore the throne in the room, the stocks, the hooks on the ceiling, and those protruding from the walls, cleverly disguised as embellishments. I walk past the bank of drawers filled with the queen’s toys, or maybe they belong to the king. I glance up at the goodies for impact play that are part of every room on this floor. But what captures my attention is the wall of portraits, each positioned in an ornate gold frame.
Some are sexy images that I realize are actually priceless paintings. Interspersed between the precious art are renderings and photographs, framed exquisitely, making them appear priceless too. There are pictures of Digger’s Hollow, of me as homecoming queen, and another as a Magnolia Princess—the pictures had appeared in the newspaper, years ago. They’ve all been enhanced and fit in perfectly alongside the more valuable pieces. There’s also an array of photos Gray took over the last several months—candids of me, and a picture Gabby took of us at Christmas.
“This is where the past and the present meet to build the future,” he says quietly.
“I still worry that my life will swallow you and turn you into something that neither of us recognize.” He combs his fingers through my hair, gently brushing the loose strands off my face. “This is where we come to recalibrate when we can’t find the little girl from Digger’s Hollow, or when my own demons are rumbling, or when the world is making so much noise that it threatens our love.”
The lump in my throat is far too big to swallow. Gray wraps his arm around my shoulder, and kisses my head.
I’m lost. Lost, because although the bones of this fantasy were designed by Jolie and Gil, Gray’s hand is all over it. There is not one object in this room, big or small, that doesn’t have some significance. There is nothing in this space that doesn’t have a reason for being here, one Gray can explain to me if I ask. I’m sure of it.
But I’m mostly lost, because his love is so much more than I ever dared to imagine for myself.
“Come with me,” he says, leading me toward the door where we entered.
“This is where the queen disrobes.” He points to a small alcove with an elaborate coat rack and a tufted bench. “No clothes are worn in the Queen’s Quarters. While she’s far, far more important than the politicians, the media moguls, and the titans of industry who play on this floor, like them, she must fully submit to the fantasy when she enters, handing over her worries, her fears, and her burdens. They remain at the door.”
I’m not overwhelmed by the riches in this room, or even by the comparison to the rich and powerful. No, I’m overcome by this man—his regard for me, his seemingly endless love. A man who would pour himself into creating a jewel box just for me.
“The only thing you’re permitted to wear once you enter is this,” he says, pulling out a velvet pouch from
his pocket.
I assume it’s a bullet vibrator or some other small devilish toy, and I grin at him.
Gray no longer has the hungry look of a predator. His characteristic smirk is a small, humble smile, and his eyes have a vulnerability that he would be loath to admit.
As soon as he places the pouch in my hands, I know it’s something weightier than a toy.
I stare at it for several seconds, using my index finger to circle the circumference of the object through the luxurious nap.
“Do you need some help?”
I shake my head, and pull open the strings, gently removing the ring from the pouch.
It’s silver—maybe white gold or platinum—with a brilliantly cut stone. A sapphire, I think. But I’m not sure of any of it. It’s not the sort of thing a girl from Digger’s Hollow comes across every day. The one thing I do know is it’s big enough to choke a chicken—maybe even a pony.
Gray tips my chin up. “It’s a blue diamond,” he explains, without making me feel inadequate. “This one is pure, without any secondary colors to muddy it. It’s the color of your eyes when you’re happy, and when you’re aroused,” he adds, tracing the contours of my face. “It’s rare, like you.”
He takes the ring out of my hand, and slips it on my finger. “You don’t need to tell me now. Wear it and see how it feels.”
I reach for him, and he wraps me tight against his chest. I can’t talk, because I’ll start to cry and I still hate that. But I don’t need to wait. It feels right. Not the ring, but his arms. His heartbeat. His rock-steady presence.
We hold each other for a long time, while the last year melts away, reshaping itself into foundational bricks sturdy enough to build a life on.
I peek around him to the words inscribed in gold leaf on the wall:
You can have structure without suffocating.
You can guide and lead without being overbearing.
You can follow without relinquishing all power and control.
You can hold each other up without holding each other back.
Without a drop of hesitancy, I gaze into his eyes, letting my fingertips caress his strong jaw. “I will follow, wherever you lead, for all my days on this earth.”
There is no gentleness as he claims my mouth. No apologies. I wouldn’t want it any other way.
“The queen kneels, you know,” he murmurs near my ear. It’s playful, but the gravel in his voice suggests a game not meant for children.
“She sucks cock, too,” I whisper. “I watched The Crown.”
He throws his head back, his chest heaving with a rich laughter that will warm me on the coldest days, for the rest of our lives.
When he unlaces my dress, his fingers engage in a long, slow tease. He doesn’t seem at all surprised to find I’m not wearing a single thing underneath.
“You’re a dirty little queen.” He grins wolfishly. “The best kind.”
* * *
Here’s a sneak peek of what’s next! Antonio is the broodiest sexiest bastard you’ll ever meet…
I’m a cold, heartless sonofabitch who runs my family’s port empire, with its gritty docks, and dark cellars that hold priceless vintages.
But I find plenty of time to play, and there’s no shortage of beautiful women who like to play too. They’ve been the perfect distraction from a death-bed promise I made years ago.
There’s only one problem.
That promise has come due.
(For sexy updates on Antonio’s little problem, make sure you’re signed up for my newsletter! evacharles.com)
If you enjoyed Decadent, please consider leaving a short review so others can find it too!
Need a little group therapy now that you’ve read Decadent, and you know what’s coming next? Maybe more of those sexy Charleston men? I have just the place for you! Join me in JD’s Closet on Facebook for exclusive teasers, juicy tidbits, and special treats. https://bit.ly/38jlUGF
Afterthoughts
Thank you so much for reading my dirty little fairy tale!
Delilah and Gray are a tribute to the notion that people are complicated. Most of us are neither all bad nor all good. We’re some twisted combination of the two.
Their story was so much fun to write. Because it’s the fourth book in the series, the characters’ personalities were already baked-in—for the most part. What’s that? Gray surprised you? Surely you didn’t expect that I had already shown my entire hand. What fun would that have been!
Decadent is a work of fiction. But as I’ve said many times, while I write to entertain, I can’t seem to help myself from sneaking an actual fact or two into the story, or flashing a light, however brief, into a dark corner. I hope you walked away with the impression that BDSM isn’t a cookie cutter lifestyle on the fringes of society.
Dominants and submissives come from all walks of life. They create their own unique dynamic, and there is much more to the lifestyle than pain and kink. As in every aspect of life, there are also abusers in the community who take advantage of every opportunity to meet their own sadistic needs, or simply to get laid. Delilah’s husband, Kyle, was exactly the kind of poser that can cause irreparable harm to an inexperienced submissive. But it’s a lesson we can all learn from. It doesn’t matter what type of relationship we are involved in, we must be mindful of the red flags, and insist that we have a voice. Don’t let anyone take that voice away from you.
Above all, I hope that Decadent brought you great pleasure, a small escape, and some bedroom inspiration.
What’s next for me? I’m writing a book in Vi Keeland and Penelope Ward’s Cocky Heroes series, and then I’m back to the dark corners of the world. A port wine empire and a broody, sexy bastard named Antonio. Wait until you meet him!
In the meantime, stay well, and try to surround yourself with people who love you.
xoxo
Eva
Acknowledgments
While I suspect there will be at least one novella in the future, the Charleston series is essentially complete. I have loved each of these characters, (although not equally) and for me, the good-bye is bittersweet.
Little in life is accomplished without the help and generosity of kind souls. Decadent is no exception.
Veronica, I write these words, again, because they remain true. The Devil’s Due series would not exist without you. Neither would Eva Charles, the author. The debt of gratitude I owe you, not just for your professionalism, but for your friendship, is ever growing, and you continue to be a beacon in my little corner of the literary world.
Dawn Alexander, unlike Gray Wilder, I’m happy to repeat myself: There is not enough space in the back of any book for the thanks I owe you. Your patience and ability to cut through incomplete thoughts and barely formed ideas is unparalleled—as is your patience. You are a brilliant gem! Sexy Sinner is next, and then we head to the dark corners of a port empire. I heard that there might be an arranged marriage involved. But who knows?
A heartfelt thank you to Nasrine and Saleema for reading the manuscript with a special eye on areas of sensitivity. I am forever grateful for your ability to get straight to the crux of the matter, and for all your input. I hope that one day we live in a world where our first and last names can be used freely, without fear of reprisal. You are AMAZING, and I so appreciate your good counsel.
Nancy Smay, I’m not sure what I would do without your guidance. You are a font of knowledge—nothing, including the tiniest details regarding government clearance, escapes you. Thank you for your vast expertise on all matters, and for your unending patience with my love of commas. I’m sending you a big virtual smirk—LOL.
Faith Williams, I’m convinced you have magical powers! Your thoroughness is incomparable. Truly. I will always be indebted to Cali MacKay for recommending your services. I so appreciate your flexibility, and good nature. There is no question, Decadent is better because of you.
Virginia Tesi Carey, you are a bright light in what can sometimes be a challenging world! The t
hought of releasing without your eagle eye on the manuscript right before I press send, horrifies me. Thank you for your ongoing support, friendship, and your generous spirit.
Candi Kane, I am fortunate to have had the opportunity to not only work with you on Decadent’s release, but to get to know you some too. I have met very few people in my life who could not only run a small country, but could do it while making boatloads of guacamole—LOL. I hope you continue to have time for me in your busy schedule.
Catherine Anderson, thank you for being a blessing! You are truly a lovely human being, and a consummate professional, with mad skills. Your gracious demeanor aside, you know how to get stuff done.
Letitia Hasser of RBA Designs, lovely, talented, and generous. There aren’t enough positive adjectives in any language to bestow on you. Thank you for another gorgeous cover!
Thank you to Michael Stokes for being a joy to do business with, and for taking photographs of beautiful men, who never fail to make my lady-parts tingle. (Yes, I have even less shame than my my characters). And to Ben Palacios, for being the perfect Gray, lounging on that chaise with a sword beside you. Be still my heart!
Thank you to L. Woods PR, Candi Kane PR, Enticing Journey, and Give Me Books. You make everything look effortless! You are all wonderful to work with, and just plain amazing.
To the bloggers, bookstagrammers, and bookTubers, there is no way to fully thank you for all that you do to promote my books. There are few professions where people spend hours of their time for the benefit of others, out of kindness, and not for the monetary rewards. Thank you for your tireless energy and generosity in promoting Decadent, and the entire Devil’s Due series. It would not have flourished without you.
To the readers, thank you for embracing this series, and for your ongoing love and support! Your generosity, kind words, and willingness to share the stories with others gave the Wilders and their friends tremendous life. I am repeatedly humbled by all the love you’ve shown the characters, and me.
