Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 87629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Because that’s not fear I see burning in my best friend’s eyes. That’s interest. And if I turn her away, now that I’ve sparked her curiosity? She’s going to find someone else to introduce her to this world. Someone who won’t respect her as much as I will.
Fine. She wants a teacher? I can be her teacher.
“Let’s go,” I say.
“No. You said you’d teach—”
I silence her with two fingers over her lips. “Not here. In a private suite.”
I lead her out of the larger room, down another hallway, to the room I’ve reserved. I reserve it each time I come to the club, but I honestly didn’t think I’d use it tonight.
I key in the code and urge her inside.
She inhales. “Smells good in here.”
I nod. The rooms are always scented with lavender. It’s relaxing, and it helps everyone feel at ease.
She looks around, her eyes wide. “What…exactly do you do in here?”
“Whatever I want,” I say gruffly.
She tenses again, but her lips quirk upward. “I want to learn it all. Every single thing.”
“All right,” I say. “We’ll start with the basics, then. Take off your clothes.”
“Don’t you want to undress me?” she teases.
“First thing to learn, Mandy, is that you do what I tell you in here. Undress yourself. Slowly. Sensually.”
She blushes. A striking rosiness spreads over her cheeks. How have I never noticed her blush before?
Amanda Thomas is beautiful. Not just beautiful but damned sexy. Why have I never seen it?
No, the truth is, I have seen it. But I haven’t let myself dwell on it because she’s Mandy Cake. Mandy Cake, who played in my sandbox, whose mother changed my diapers. Mandy Cake, who has remained the only constant in my entire life.
Which is why I can never tell her who Mr. Dark really is. We both value our friendship more than any other relationship in our lives. She wouldn’t want me to tell her if it would change things between us.
She carefully removes her black pumps, and then she lifts her shirt over her head.
Her bra is simple white lace. In the moment, it turns me on more than the most intricate leather binding. My cock throbs.
She unclasps it in the back and then shimmies out of it, letting her breasts fall against her chest.
They’re perfect, I’d say between a B and C cup. A little more than a handful, and I have big hands. Her nipples stick out like pencil erasers, and they’re pink. Dark pink.
“Keep going,” I say with a rasp.
She peels off her jeans, stumbling a bit. I suppress a chuckle. Then she stands in her white cotton panties.
White cotton has never been so sexy.
“The rest.” My voice cracks. Damn.
She slides her panties over her hips, down her legs, and steps out of them.
And I suck in a breath.
Chapter Eleven
Amanda
Jackson.
Did he really think I wouldn’t recognize him? What has he done to his gorgeous eyes? Must be colored contacts.
He’s trying to disguise his voice, but I know him too well. He’s using the same voice he used when he dressed up as Thor for Halloween a few years ago.
He doesn’t even have a Lustr profile. How did he—
Of course. He opened a Lustr account. Or maybe he’s had one for a while and never told me.
All I know is that kiss… That kiss we shared on the dance floor…
It was more amazing than I’ve ever imagined in my fantasies.
It was…
Me.
I am that kiss.
I am a person standing naked in front of Jackson, the man of my dreams, whom I’ve loved from afar for as long as I can remember.
Why is he doing this? Is it possible he shares my feelings? After all this time?
And all this time… All this time I thought I knew him. I thought I knew Jackson Paris better than anyone, and I had no idea…
No idea he was into all this…kink.
I should be frightened out of my mind, but I’m not. I’m not because this is Jackson. And Jackson would never harm a hair on my head.
In fact…
If this is what he likes, I want to please him.
I look around the private suite. A king-size bed, something that looks kind of like a massage table, a wall full of whips and cuffs and ropes, most of which I’ve never seen before.
I inhale the relaxing fragrance. “Teach me.”
“We begin at the beginning, then,” he says, leading me toward the bed. “Lie down.”
I obey. The red silk comforter is like a cool breeze on my blazing body—a sensual contradiction, and already I’m sizzling between my thighs.
“Spread your legs,” he says.
No one has seen that part of me. Not in lighting like this. All my experiences have been in the dark, and neither Tracy nor Seamus ever went down on me.
I prepped the area. Shaved my pubes into a thin triangle. Will Jackson like it? Am I pretty down there? I have no idea, and my nerves are doing a polka beneath my skin. But I’m determined to see this through.