Page 27 of Reveal Me
Her laughter swirls through the air like a song. ‘More intimate than having your cock inside my ass? I don’t think so. What’s the real reason?’
I exhale heavily. ‘It gives the wrong impression. This isn’t a romantic relationship we’re entering into. It’s a sexual arrangement.’
Understanding dawns slowly across her features. ‘It’s to stop women from falling in love with you.’ She laughs again. ‘Don’t worry, Mr Beckett. I can categorically assure you I will not fall in love with you.’
That I believe.
She’s like no one I’ve met before. And it has nothing to do with her title or her position in society. It’s the way she holds herself. The way she radiates confidence. Class. Elegance. She seems untouchable. That combined with her curiosity and unashamed desire to explore her own sexuality makes her easily the most attractive, intriguing woman I’ve ever met.
Which is why I irrevocably cannot kiss her. For the first time in my life, it could be me who catches feelings.
I take a sip of wine and place my glass on the table, eyeing her levelly. ‘It’s non-negotiable. Besides, you’ll find it hard to kiss anything when I have a ball gag in your mouth.’
Chapter Eleven
LAYLA
I inhale a ragged breath.
What I wouldn’t give to drop to my knees for him right now. To service him any way he directs. To surrender my body to him to do as he wills with. But the contract was very clear; all activities, all types of fraternisation are to take place at Reveal. Technically we shouldn’t even be having dinner together tonight, but judging by his expression, he wasn’t even expecting me to turn up, let alone make my own sexual demands.
‘What about group activities?’
His eyes flare with surprise. ‘They’re a regular occurrence at Reveal.’
I don’t particularly want to fuck anyone but him, but after what I witnessed the other night, I wouldn’t mind an audience for certain activities.
Silence stretches between us. He lifts his wine glass to his full lips, and I watch his thick masculine throat as he swallows. ‘Are you asking for a threesome?’
A hot jolt of electricity strikes between my legs. ‘I’m not averse to the idea, provided you’re involved.’ He is the hottestpart of every fantasy for me now I’ve seen him sprawled out in that leather throne barking out orders.
‘That goes without saying,’ he snaps. ‘If we do this, your body will be mine. And I’ll have no problem demonstrating that in front of every single member of my club.’
We’re only having a conversation, and I’m already soaked for him. For this. ‘Yes, sir.’
‘If you keep calling me sir, I’ll have you on your knees again before you can say freedom.’
He remembered my safeword.
‘If you make promises like that, then you leave me no choice,’ I meet his eyes. They flame with a hunger that mirrors my own, ‘Sir.’
A low growl rumbles in his throat. ‘You’re officially the worst submissive I’ve ever had. Not only are you blackmailing me for this position, therefore stripping me of my power, but you seem determined to test me. I am supposed to be testingyourlimits. Not the other way around.’
I push back my stool and stand, slowly.
‘I didn’t strip you of any power. You had full control of me the second I stepped into your club. And we both know it. The same way we both know you would have picked me anyway.’ I take a tentative step towards him. The air crackles between us as his pupils bore into mine. ‘I told you, I already signed the contract. That will be the last thing I do without your say so… shouldyousign, sir.’
I tear my eyes from his, forcing them to the ground, then slowly lower myself to my knees beside his stool. I want this more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. I want him to take me to the dark side. I want to bathe in it with him as my guide. I want him to make me feel alive, free, and like a woman to be enjoyed, not a royal object to be admired from afar. I want to be touched, teased and tested. And I want to start now.
He rises from his stool. In my peripheral vision, I see his handmade Italian oxfords cross the room to where I left the contract. I don’t dare look up. Not when I hear the impatient tear of the envelope. And not when I hear the slide of a drawer opening. I’m acutely aware I’m holding my breath. When he struts back towards me, then takes his seat again, I hear him reach for his wine glass, hear him lift it to his lips, hear how they smack together as he swallows.
Why is being on the floor on my knees for him so hot?
Why is the prospect of pleasing him so fucking arousing?
Why am I silently willing him to open his buckle and make me work for that signature?
It’s on the tip of my tongue to offer him anything he wants for it, but I bite my lip and keep my mouth shut. I’m not the one in control here and, paradoxically, it’s the most liberating feeling in the universe.
