Page 167 of On a Fault Line

Collins glances over at me and smiles. Then he cuts the engine and gets out of the vehicle. Opening my door, he helps me out.

My eyes glance at the building, enjoying the contrast of being here during daylight hours for once. It’s as beautiful as ever, if not more so, with the sun casting a warm glow upon it.

“I’m going to be very clear about something…” Collins starts, verifying that my attention is back on him.

“Okay…”

“There will be rules, Penelope.”

I tilt my head, as my eyes narrow. “I’d be surprised otherwise.”

* * *

“Collins, I’m nervous.”

“I know, Princess.”

My eyes lock in on the walls surrounding us, quietly hoping that they hold up to the promised privacy of their description.

We are elevated above the dance floor but in a frosted glass cage. I’ve been here at the club a couple of times before but honestly never noticed this option—until now. Maybe it’s a recently added feature.

“And you’re sure no one can see us?” I ask. My question comes out slow and methodical.

“Members can witness what we are doing but we will be silhouettes. So you can have the thrill of having your fun but without the risk of me bashing in skulls of people seeing what’s mine.”

Collins grabs my ass cheeks through the fabric of my very conservative dress, as the thump-thump of the bass-heavy music from the DJ causes my pulse to quicken.

I feel intoxicated and completely in sensory overload.

But I want to do this. I want to experience Limit-X with this man—the man I seduced here what feels like a lifetime ago. We really have come a long way in such a short amount of time.

“I’ve never done this before,” he whispers, placing his forehead against mine.

“Good. Then I’ll be your first.” But I really want to be his last.

He smiles knowingly and then starts to remove the innocent cotton dress from my body.

“Arms up.”

I comply. “I should have worn something sexy.”

“Every part of you is sexy, Princess. Even”—his thumbs play with my white panties with the little pink hearts over them—“these.Especiallythese.”

The roar of the crowd outside of our caged booth erupts as the DJ switches rhythms and the music morphs into deeper, seductive tones.

It’s easy to tune everyone out when Collins is massaging my breasts and removing my bra. He takes a step back in the cage, causing it to sway gently.

And then he is on me, biting my neck, sucking at my nipples, and possessing me with every part of him.

I help him get undressed, evening things out. Then I roam my hands all over his body, caressing the curves of his muscles and savoring the crackling energy being transmitted between us.

My movements are slow and intentional, as I try to commit this image of being locked in a glass cage with my possessive bodyguard into my permanent memory bank.

Looping an arm under my ass, Collins hoists me up into the air and then hits a button along the side of the cage that lowers some type of leather contraption from the ceiling.

“What is this thing?” I ask, genuinely curious.

“It’s a sex swing.”

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