Page 52 of The Breaking Point

I kept wandering. The next scene was two men. One man was bent over the arm of a plush couch, while his partner pounded into him. The sounds of the slaps of flesh against flesh made the hair on the back of my neck stand.

It was mesmerizing. I’d never seen people so unabashed in their sexuality. It made me wonder how they could become so open about something I was still trying to understand about myself.

I also wondered whether Brady was the type to be a part of these scenes. Did he like when others watched him? Or did he prefer his exploits to remain private?

The green-eyed snake of jealousy bit into my heart. I hated the thought of Brady being with other women even though he wasn’t mine. I had no right to expect him to abstain.

But it hurt all the same. Because those women got a side of him he’d told me I would never, ever see.

I kept walking. A few men complimented my lingerie, one even going so far as to suggest we find somewhere private. I stumbled through the interaction, but the man was kind when I said no.

He handed me a card and said, “If you change your mind.” He winked and kept walking.

I stared at the card, tried to put it in my purse, and then realized I didn’t have it with me. And I didn’t exactly have any pockets, either. I stuffed it into my bra as a last resort.

When I got to a room with a masked man whipping a woman, I was immediately enthralled. It helped that the man was ripped. From his shoulders to his stomach to his legs, he clearly worked out.

He also seemed to know what he was doing. The woman, who was face down on the bed, wiggled and moaned with each lash of the whip.

He reminds me of Brady,I thought to myself.

Looking at him more closely, I realized itwasBrady. I’d recognize him anywhere. Even wearing a mask, I knew it was him.

I couldn’t move. I didn’t know how to feel about the scene before me. I was enthralled, sure, but I was also jealous. Hurt. Amazed. Confused.

Brady kept whipping the woman, harder and harder, until red welts rose on her back. I swallowed hard. I had no idea he enjoyed that kind of sex.

Brady walked around the woman and flipped her over before tying her up. He said something to her and then went toward where I was standing.

I almost bolted. But he couldn’t see through the two-way mirror, right?

But when his gaze landed on me, he stopped in his tracks. We stared at each other for the longest moment of my life.

“Grace?” he mouthed.

So much for two-way mirrors,I thought before Brady stalked from the room.

BRADY

When I grabbed Grace’s arm, I half expected her to disappear like a ghost. But no, she was as real as I was.

And wearing basically nothing.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I demanded.

Grace had the gall to scowl at me. “I have just as much a right to be here as you do.”

She did, and I fucking hated it. Had she been looking for some guy to sleep with? To give her virginity to?

Christ, the thought of another man—or woman—touching her sent me into a jealous, raging tailspin.

It didn’t help that I’d never seen her dressed like this. Her lingerie left very little to the imagination. The lace barely covered her nipples, for God’s sake.

Underneath her usually conservative clothes was a banging body: curvy and lithe. Her breasts were small but pert. I wondered how they’d feel in my hands.

Worst of all was the pair of panties that were almost a thong on her. Her tight little ass was just right there for everyone to admire.

I wanted to throw a blanket over her and run out the door. Nobody should be able to see Grace like this.

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