Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 107660 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107660 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Crack.
I bit my lip to keep from moaning with the woman. I remembered the sharp sting against my own skin. I remembered the heat spreading between my legs. I remembered the way my muscles uncoiled under the weight of his palm holding me in place against the desk.
“You’re such a good slut for me,” the man praised.
“Yes, Sir,” the woman whimpered.
“You’ve been so good. I think I’ll fuck you now.”
“Yes, please, Sir.”
“Is that what you want, slut? You want me to stuff your pussy full of my fat cock?”
“Yes, Sir,” she begged.
“Then say it. Say what you refused to admit when we got here. Admit to me what you truly are.”
The woman hesitated. Her cuffs rattling against her twisting wrists, clearly uncomfortable with whatever it was he wanted.
“Do we need to start over?” the man asked angrily.
“No, Sir.”
“Then say it.”
My chest rose and fell with quick breaths. I glanced to Lucian, wondering if he clung to the edge as I did. He looked as calm as ever, standing comfortably in the shadows embracing him. Even the blue light barely illuminated his features while I felt like I stood in the spotlight.
I turned back to the scene before he noticed my attention. Despite his lack of acknowledgment, I knew he caught me staring at him when his thumb made circles against my back. As if noticing my anxiety over the scene playing out. He’d told me not to react or judge, and I’d kept my word, but I struggled as I took in the woman’s hesitance.
Was she safe? Was this what she wanted? The NDA stressed consent, but could they monitor every room or the couples away from everyone else.
“Say. It,” the man commanded.
“I-I-I’m a slut,” she finally answered.
I stiffened.
Feeling the change, Lucian expanded his touch, stroking up and down my back.
“Again.”
“I-I’m a s-slut,” she repeated, tears garbling her words.
“Again.”
What the fuck?
Lucian’s hand coasted up and wrapped around the nape of my neck as if to hold me in place. Probably because the need to step in and defend this crying woman poured off me.
“I’m a slut!” she shouted.
“Again,” he shouted.
Lucian squeezed a warning, but otherwise didn’t move.
“I’m a slut. I’m a slut. I’m a fucking slut.” Each statement grew with ferocity.
“Good girl. You’re such a good girl. Such a good slut,” the man praised as he unfastened his pants. He dropped them to his hips and stroked his impressive length. Then soothed his hand along the woman’s back and lined himself up.
“Please, Sir,” she begged, tears still choking her words.
“Is my little slut wet for me?”
“Yes, Sir. I’m a wet slut.”
He rubbed his head between her thighs. “So fucking wet. I’m gonna make a mess of your slutty pussy.”
“Yes, Sir.”
He thrust in, pulling a shriek from the woman. He thrust again and again, making the woman moan and cry out in pleasure. When he leaned over her back and spoke softly just to her, I felt like an intruder. Despite how rough he’d been before, this moment seemed romantic and private.
I took a step back, and Lucian’s hand dropped away from my neck, guiding me from the room.
We headed toward the glow of white light at the end of the hall, but my mind kept going back to the blue room. I kept pouring over the ebb and flow of emotions, trying to decide which one outweighed the others.
Desire, intrigue, confusion, concern, want. Excitement…
Excitement.
Even when I wanted to object, I was excited.
Each sensation was heightened, bringing forth an emotional rush that had me leaning further out onto a precipice—the thrill pulsating between my chest and core.
“Her ex-husband called her a slut,” Lucian stated, stopping me before we reached the next room.
I turned to face him, but the dark kept his features hidden.
Except his eyes.
Somehow, even in shadow, I saw his eyes—as if they called to me. “Is that her ex?” I asked, shocked.
“God, no.” He huffed a humorless laugh. “She divorced that prick last year.”
“So why is that man making her say she’s a slut?”
“Because he’s helping her take control of the word. Because there’s nothing wrong with being a slut or being called a slut if it’s what you want. Especially here, where it can come as a term of endearment. He’s helping her find pleasure and release from the negativity someone assigned to it.”
“Oh...”
I didn’t know what else to say. I barely knew what to think.
I thought back to the scene and saw it take on a new meaning. My anger dissipated, replaced by empathy and awe of the romance and care they created.
“It’s a different world here,” Lucian explained. “But no matter what you see, it’s always consensual and done with respect.”
I nodded, hearing the reminder he knew I needed, feeling embarrassed that I needed it in the first place.
With that, he led me into the white room that somehow managed to have a dark and alluring vibe. Even with the white leather chairs and white tile floor, shadows still lingered. Unlike the other rooms, nothing illicit played out. The most daring thing I could find was a couple curled into each other with groping hands while others laughed around them.