Page 67 of Born To Be Bad

“And Freya was watching you as if you were a tasty little rabbit.”

I feel some warmth in my cheeks. Part champagne, part memory. “Yes. Then she came over. I was panicking inside and trying not to show it.”

“I was there to protect you.”

“Yes.”

“She told you you need to communicate with her. To say her name when you were enjoying her touch.”

I nod. “She played with me for a while. The pearl necklace, and then the black ribbon.”

“Did that feel good?” I ask.

Ivy nods. “Yes. My nerves were on high alert. Everything she did felt … extra. Then she tied the ribbon around my neck and pushed me back. Kissed me. And then the nipple clamps!”

“And the gold chain. That was fucking hot.” Alistair shifts in his seat.

“She went down on me.”

“How did that feel?”

“Weird … at first. Too soft, too gentle. Not what I’m used to.”

“Zero stubble,” Alistair adds.

I smile. “Yes. But then I tried to relax and just go with it. She definitely knew what she was doing.”

“Hmm,” Alistair rubs his chin. “I won’t take that personally.”

“You shouldn’t. Because I’d take you over anyone else every day of the week.”

“You’re just saying that.”

I smack his arm. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you.”

“To the contrary. My entire being is built on jealousy. Every one of my cells covets you. When it comes to you, I am Captain Jealousy.”

“Well, it’s not necessary. I have eyes for no one but you.” I place my stiletto up on the seat now, between his legs, the sharp heel dangerously close to his tackle.

He wraps his hands around the shoe and squeezes. “What happened next?”

“Next,” I murmur. “Next, things got a bit crazy. Blurry. My account cannot be trusted, but I’ll try.”

“I remember the play-by-play,” says Alistair. “I’ll help you.”

“When I get so turned on and pleasured, things get … fuzzy. I can be completely sober and still not really know exactly what went down.”

“Sex amnesia,” says Alistair, knowledgeably.

“That’s not a thing,” I retort.

“It actually is, but I don’t think you have it. I do know what you mean, though.”

“Do you feel the same?”

He shakes his head. “Forget sex with you? Never. But previous partners have described the same thing.”

“Ah,” I say. “So you’re the common denominator. You’re so good at it that you make us girls lose our minds.”

---