Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
“Yes.”
The heavy weight of his gaze urged me to look up until I couldn’t ignore it anymore. Straightening my shoulders, I lifted my chin and met his eyes as if he hadn’t walked in on me acting like a sponge, soaking up every ounce of information about him. The dark depths held their usual aloofness, but something else lingered there, too. Maybe I was sensitive after witnessing the softer side all day, but I swore I caught a glimpse of the pain Grace just talked about.
“I was going to discuss it with you first to ensure we were free to entertain before solidifying any plans,” he explained.
“Of course.”
“Well, isn’t that so exciting?” Grace chimed in, clapping her hands. “I guess I should let you two go. You’ll have a busy week ahead of you with all your plans.”
With that, we made our way to the door, where I soaked up one more hug from Grace.
Eager to hear more about this party, we barely made it to the end of the driveway before I asked, “So, what kind of shindig are we hosting? Prospective business partners? Friends? A secret society?”
His lips twitched, sending an absurd thrill of satisfaction through me from such a minor reaction.
“None of those. I spoke to Rose and Corbin last night about bringing The Berkshire to our condo.”
“The whole club?” I asked, trying to wrap my head around any part of that sentence and what it might mean.
“More like a select few. I thought a private event would allow us to play more freely.”
Heat sank into my core. “What kind of play?”
This time, his lips more than twitched, and he glanced my way with a smirk that reminded me of why I called him Dark and Dangerous. “Do you trust me?”
The question spun in my mind like a toy top, whirling too fast, wobbling, then snapping back to center. Did I trust him? Memories collided—times he’d been unwavering, and times he hadn’t—until my head swam.
Did. I. Trust. Him?
I shoved it all aside and went with instinct. I didn’t think. I let the first words that came to my lips spill out, unfiltered and raw.
“Yes.”
Another smile—this one softer, sending a different heat blooming through my chest.
“Then I would like you to take time before the party to review and confirm the activities you originally marked as being open to or interested in,” he said, referring to the list of sexual possibilities he’d given me when this all started. “If I only have five years with you, then I want to make sure you experience it all.”
I squirmed in my seat, my mind racing with possibilities.
In my chaotic imagination, one thought rose above the rest: five years wouldn’t be nearly enough time to experience everything I wanted with Lucian.
Especially now, since I was starting to want to experience things that had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with the life Grace had painted.
The kind of life Lucian swore he’d never have.
CHAPTER 9
ASPEN
Istared at myself in the floor-length mirror four days later. The light beige walls and fluffy bedding of my original room a stark contrast to my reflection.
After lunch, Lucian told me to take a long bath and prepare for the night. When I exited the bathroom, a simple white box waited on the bed, its note containing two simple words.
Trust me.
My heart thudded, and my muscles tensed, my body balancing on the edge of fight or flight. But I didn’t have to choose. I didn’t want to run, and I didn’t have to fight. So, I opened the box and did as the note said: I trusted Lucian.
Now, I stood in a short black dress, barely more than a slip, meant to fall effortlessly from my body. Simple wrapping for the diamond lingerie beneath it, acting more as decoration for my dusky nipples and smooth pussy than covering them.
Cool metal pressed against my heated skin as I took in my simple makeup and nude lips, wondering what awaited me tonight. Three days ago, we sat across from each other at the dining room table he’d tied me to weeks before and went through the checklist with the same methodical precision used in a million-dollar deal.
“Anal play with toys?” he asked.
“Green.”
“Anal penetration with fingers?”
“Green.”
“Anal penetration with my cock?”
“Green.”
“Nipple clamps?”
“Green.”
“Voyeurism?”
“Green.”
“Exhibitionism? Partially dressed, fully naked, foreplay, or fucking?”
“…G-green.”
“Aspen…”
“Green.”
“Are you sure?”
“Green.”
“Okay. Oral sex? Giving and/or receiving?”
“Green.”
“Allowing one or more people to join us during foreplay or sex?”
“Yellow.”
“What makes you hesitate?”
“Would they be touching you or me?”
“Either.”
“I don’t want to watch you with someone else. Red.”
“And if I want to watch someone touch you? If I want them to help me touch you?”
“Umm.”
“If I want to sit back and watch them fuck you?”
“…”
“We can keep it as yell—”
“Green.”
We’d covered seven pages, which left me squirming in my seat.
After, he sat me on the edge of the table and ate me out like a starving man before bending me over, fucking me so hard I still had the bruises fading against my hips.