Page 15 of Salacious Devotion

“How many employees do you have?”

“Eight. Two of them moved with me. You know them. JT and Brant.”

I pull his tie free and set my palms on his chest. God, I’ve missed this, missed him. Human contact. I push at his shirt. He’s not getting it off fast enough. I lean into him, kissing his pecs while I spread my fingers all over his enormous muscles. “You’re bigger than you were.”

“I’ve had a lot of time to work out. It’s the only way I could relieve my frustration.”

“You had the club, too.”

“Yeah. I did. I joined Edge two years ago and claimed this apartment on the third floor a year ago when the space opened up.”

I hate to ask more, so I don’t.

He takes my chin and tips my head back. His gaze is intense. “I’ve played with women, baby. I’ve scened. I’ve brought women up here to play privately. I have not been in any relationships. No one has meant anything to me. I’m pretty sure Drake, Easton, and some of the other top-tier members have been plotting an intervention to help me get my head out of my ass. They’ve let me wallow long enough.”

I don’t know why I’m glad no one meant anything to him. It’s not fair. I easily could have found him married and wouldn’t have been able to do a thing about it. But he’s not. He’s still mine.

“No one has stayed over in this apartment. No one has slept in the bed. And, baby, no woman has ever been in my penthouse.”

Wow. I’m sure I’ve been more celibate than him since I haven’t touched a single man at all, but my situation is different. I’ve been trapped in a lie. The marshal told me to move on with my life. I wasn’t forbidden from meeting anyone and getting married, but I couldn’t bring myself to even go on a date. I couldn’t stand pretending. I would have had to share details about my entirely invented past with someone and keep up that lie, possibly forever. Because the truth is the authorities might never find Damion Tombeck. Putting me in witness protection didn’t just keep my friends and my father safe; it also kept me alive. As long as Tombeck has no idea there were any survivors, he isn’t looking for me to take me out.

Dane has not been living a lie. He’s simply been mourning my death.

He hasn’t touched me intimately yet except to kiss my breast, but I asked him to dominate me, so he’s focused on that. He turns me and guides me to the spanking bench in the middle of the room. He lifts me by the hips and sets me on my knees on the padded section.

Instead of leaning over the top of the bench, I watch as he removes his shoes and socks. He often liked to dominate me barefoot. I love his feet. He has nice feet. There’s something intimate about him taking off his shoes and socks. Now, his only clothes are his slacks and, I assume, briefs underneath. He wouldn’t remove those while he dominates me.

“You know what to do, Paige.” He points to the bench.

I do. I lower myself onto the top. I feel exposed and vulnerable. My knees are wide. My pussy is open. It’s slightly raw because I shaved this morning. I haven’t done so for years. Why would I bother? But in my mad attempt to start a new life tonight, I shaved before coming to Edge.

My breasts press into the leather bench, and I rest my forearms on the two sections below my shoulders. I close my eyes, centering myself.

Dane sets a hand on my butt. “You haven’t changed.”

“I’ve put on weight.”

“Not much. I can’t tell. Maybe you’re slightly softer, but it’s sexy.”

I smile. I always loved the way he spoke about me so reverently, admiring my body in a way that made me feel as sexy as he insisted.

He strokes my skin. “I’ve missed this.”

“Me, too.”

“Safeword?”

I lift my head and twist to look at him. I grin. “Did you forget it?”

“Nope. Did you?”

I chuckle. “No. Stupid.”

“Did you just call me stupid, Paige?”

I giggle. He knows I didn’t. He knows I don’t like the word stupid or how flippantly people use it. It’s my safeword.

“Red, yellow, and green are still universal. Use any of them, Paige.”

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