Page 42 of Ruthless Reign

The question makes my head spin. How am I supposed to know what my limits are?

My mind wanders back to last night. The scenes weren't exactly beginner-level and I’ll admit some acts shocked me, but I was more intrigued than anything. Still, watching is one thing while participating is something else entirely.

I imagine myself in place of those women last night, but instead of nameless, faceless men, it’s Roman’s gorgeous profile that materializes in my head—he’s the one doing all those forbidden things to me. Licking between my legs, pushing me down, fucking me, flogging my breasts, watching me penetrate myself with a toy…

Holy shit. I’ve let my mind wander far off-path. But when I picture anyone else but Roman, my excitement evaporates into thin air. Damn, I need to banish him from my thoughts and focus on the task ahead. Because that’s what it is—a job. A means to an end.

“I don’t want them to hurt me,” I say. “And only one man; I won’t be shared.” She nods, and I consider what else. “No toys or floggers, or anything like that. No restraints, and they need to use a condom.” I pause. “I know I sound boring and inexperienced but… Well, I am.”

“And that’s the point.” Paulina shakes her head. “These men don’t want a vixen. They don’t want the kind of women you saw last night. They’re paying top dollar for your innocence. To teach you things, to be in control.” She purses her lips. “To be the first man inside of you.”

I reach a shaky hand for my glass of champagne on the table in front of me. “I’ll know my limits in the moment. Will they respect them?”

“If there’s ever a problem, security will deal with them immediately.”

My shoulders lower an inch. That’s reassuring, at least.

“Do you have any more questions?” she asks gently.

My breath catches. “I probably do, but nothing’s coming to me right now.”

She squeezes my hand. “I'll be with you the entire time. Do you want to see the lingerie you can choose from?”

I try to steady my breathing.

Paulina leads me to a wardrobe at the back of the room. She opens it to reveal a selection of delicate lingerie in various colors and styles. “Take your time,” she says, stepping back to give me space.

My eyes scan the options. There's a bold red set with black lace trim, a sultry black ensemble with sheer panels, and a playful pink piece with ruffles. But my gaze lands on a white lace bra and panties set, designed to reveal more than it hides.

Paulina notices my interest. “White, as in virginal,” she suggests with a wink.

I reach out and touch the delicate fabric. The bra's lacework is intricate, paired with skimpy, lace-edged panties. Transparent garters attach to sheer stockings with little jewels that will run up the back of my thighs. It’s bold yet somehow feels right.

“This one.” I hold it up.

“Perfect choice. Go ahead and change, and then come out to show me.”

I take the outfit and step into a small changing room. As I slip into the white lace, I feel a mix of nerves and excitement. The fabric feels cool against my skin, and the jewels on the stockings catch the light as I move.

Taking a deep breath, I step out of the changing room.

Paulina's eyes light up as she sees me. “Look at you.” She spins me around so I look at myself in the mirror. “You’re stunning. You deserve to be worshiped, even if just for a night.”

My eyes draw upwards, and I drink in my reflection. I’ve never considered myself anything special, but I can’t deny that with my hair spilling down my back, my lips bold and red, and high heels that appear to give everything a lift, I am something special.

Maybe even something to be worshiped.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

ROMAN

I knew something was up the minute I received a call from the hotel manager, who informed me that several packages had been delivered directly to the spa for Liza, with a note that read, For tonight.

It didn’t really take a rocket scientist to figure out that she was preparing for an eventful night—one she conveniently never mentioned to me.

It’s just before midnight when I hear Liza sneak out. I’m impressed by how quiet she is. The opening and closing of the front door to the suite is nearly soundless; I can just make out a small click as the door shuts behind her.

Standing, I look out the hotel’s window with a clear view of the entrance below. Not two minutes pass before she appears, her silhouette unmistakable. Her dark hair flows over her shoulders, and her coat catches the breeze as she slips into a waiting limo.

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