Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 94915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
“I don’t know,” I say, biting my lip. “I mean, I can think of one or two—”
“Put down rope play,” she suggests, nodding at my phone.
“Rope play?”
“You know, bondage stuff. Getting tied up.” Her eyes go distant and misty. “And tying him up. My second boyfriend, Jeff—”
“No, thank you, I’d rather not go down that particular memory lane.” I type down rope play to make her happy. “How about some normal stuff too?” I add mutual masturbation for a little extra spice.
“Mutual masturbation? Oh my god, like hand jobs? Bri, I know you’re inexperienced, but come on. You’re going to get married. At least stick to the fun stuff.”
“First of all, I might get married. Nothing’s decided yet. And second of all, what do you mean, fun stuff?” I pretend not to care, because I really don’t, not even a little bit. Although I’m curious.
Kim has more experience than I do. Not that she’s getting around a lot or whatever, but she’s two years older at twenty-four and she’s been with a few different long-term boyfriends since she was a teenager. Meaning a relatively safe situation in which to experiment with her freaky side, I guess.
“Well, there’s shower sex, but that can be hard depending on the shower. Oh, public sex is always really kinky and hot. There’s something about almost getting caught—”
“I got it, you’re a voyeur.” I type in shower sex and public sex. “What else?”
She taps her lips with the rim of her glass. “You could watch porn together. Fuck in a car. Role play. A little light domination. Spanking, choking, blindfolds, handcuffs—”
“Jesus, Kim.” I type it all down, heart racing. “Go easy. I’ve kissed, like, three guys.”
“I know, but, babe, you’re going to get married. That’s like, a green light to release the inner beast.” She nods at my list. “Add in sex on the floor, sex on a couch, rough sex, toys—”
“What kind of toys?” I ask as my fingers tap it all down. I add a few of my own ideas as I go, unable to help myself. It’s a list, and it’s supposed to be my list, even if this is immature and lame.
“Dildos, butt plugs, gags, whatever you want.” She laughs lightly and flips her hair. “There’s also sploshing.”
“Sorry, what now?”
“Sploshing. You know, where you, like, grind food into each other during sex?”
I lower my phone and give her a serious look. “I’m not adding that. What the hell, Kim? That sounds gross.”
“Don’t you dare kink shame me. Anyway, I read about it online.” She blushes slightly, which is unlike her. “But I’d try anything once.”
I absolutely do not add sploshing to the list.
But there are a few other ideas banging around in my skull: phone sex, threesomes, skinny-dipping, videotaping. Kim cranes her neck, reads that last one, and launches into a story about how her last boyfriend wanted to constantly take videos of her sucking his dick and swore up and down he’d delete them, but before she ended up dumping him, she had to go through his photo app and find every single movie they made together, which she destroyed forever, and it confirmed her desire to kick him to the curb.
I slip my phone away, the list finished, but I keep thinking about it as we head to the bar to get another drink. Even though that was a stupid exercise, at least it took my mind off what I’m really doing here, and I think that was Kim’s plan all along. I’ve been trying my best to seem like this is no big deal, but internally I’m freaking out.
Ronan Hayes came to me with a proposition. The head of a powerful French crime family is looking for a wife, and since I’m single, and my brother basically tried to tear the Hayes Group apart by causing a violent rebellion a few months back, Ronan thinks it might be a good opportunity to make amends and rehabilitate my family’s standing. I told him I’d think about it, but I wanted to meet my potential husband first.
I didn’t tell him that I’m going to do it, basically no matter what.
I’m on my second glass of champagne when Kim grabs my arm. We’re standing near some booths, away from the crush of mafia guys, and her eyes widen ever so slightly in panic. My heart rate ticks up, and when I follow her gaze, I spot Ronan walking over followed by a tall, extremely good-looking man in a sleek, expensive black suit.
That has to be him. I have to force my mouth not to fall open. He’s athletic and lean, with a handsome, narrow face and thick, dark hair, slightly on the longer side. Full, pouty lips, stubble on his cheeks and chin, and muscles that look like I could take a bite and he wouldn’t even notice. And tall, the same height as Ronan, who’s easily over six feet.