Page 82 of Moonlit Thorns

When he’s done, he stares at his work. “Rub it in,” he says and moans low in his throat when I do.

He leans over me, bringing his mouth to mine. I loop my handcuffed hands around his neck and return the kiss. After he pulls away, he helps me up off the bed. My legs are wobbly at first.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

I grin at him. “When can we do that again?”

Chapter

Thirty-Four

ASHER

I’m falling for her.

That’s the only explanation for why I asked her earlier this week to join me on a date tonight.

Because I don’t date.

I fuck women in the sex club. And when I have to, I’ll have some high society woman accompany me to some event, and sometimes I’ll fuck her too.

But I don’t date. I don’t woo. I don’t try to make a good impression to get in some woman’s good graces. But that’s exactly what I’m doing tonight.

I wait near the front door for Anabelle, my heart in my throat and constricting my airway. All the old fears rise to the surface—that I can’t afford to care about anyone because they’ll end up leaving me like my mother did, that anyone who cares for me will be taken from me, that the person who is supposed to care the most for me will be the one who inflicts the most pain.

But when I hear the click of heels on the floor and turn and see Anabelle making her way to me, all those fears evaporate.

I left the dress for her in her room earlier today, and I knew it would look gorgeous on her, but I had no idea it would be this. She looks like a fucking goddess, and I want to bow down and worship at her altar.

She’s wearing an off-the-shoulder gold satin gown that reaches the floor. The fabric of the skirt wraps from one side to the other toward her hip, causing it to pleat, and on the other side, a long slit reaches three-quarters of the way up her thigh. Her hair is pulled back into a sleek ponytail with waves, highlighting the column of her neck and one of her favorite places for me to lick—besides her pussy.

Every step she takes is a tease of her shapely leg and the apex of her thighs. I have to adjust myself in my tuxedo pants to make room for my growing erection.

“You take my breath away, Anabelle.”

She looks a little embarrassed by my praise, glancing at the floor. “Thanks. You look really good as well.”

I lift her chin with my thumb and forefinger. “Don’t look away from me. Own it. I’m a lucky man to have you on my arm tonight.”

“Yes, sir,” she says in a soft voice, and my dick twitches.

I give her a grin. She knows exactly what she’s doing. I take her hand. “Let’s go. We need to get to the plane.”

“Plane?”

I haven’t told her where we’re going tonight, opting to keep it a surprise. “You didn’t think we were heading down to Black Magic in this, did you?”

She laughs and follows me out the door.

We arrive in the city, and the car I arranged to take us to the symphony drops us in front of the theater.

Anabelle looks at the banners hanging on either side of the entryway. “I’ve never been to the symphony before.”

“I’m honored to be your first then.” I take her hand and kiss her knuckles, guiding her through the entryway and up the stairs of the building.

There’s a red carpet here tonight because we’re attending a large fundraiser for some local charities that one celebrity or another is the spokesperson for. Normally I skip these things and very often I make my driver drop me at the back so I can’t be photographed, but on a whim, I decide that I want a picture of the two of us.

This might be the only chance I have to get a picture of us together before we part. I’m certainly not going to pull out my phone and take a selfie of us. What kind of message would that send to Anabelle? That I plan to have it printed and put in a frame on my desk?

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