Page 50 of Reveal Me
Her core tightens on me, and I know she’s close. Thank fuck because I’m about five seconds from spilling myself inside of her. The thought of her dripping with my cum again is enough to catapult me over the edge. Thankfully, she’s right there with me as animalistic pleasure courses through my body. She bites my lower lip, her core convulsing around my cock, milking me for everything I’ve got.
I’m so fucked.
When we finally still to catch our ragged breaths, I unfasten the cuffs from her wrists, peppering tiny kisses over her clavicle and her chest. She slumps onto my chest until we’re heart to heart. We stay there, silent bar the deep bass and haunting melodies from the speakers. The music seeps beneath my skin, stirring something in my soul. Or maybe it’s Layla’s heart pressed against mine that’s doing it.
I’m supposed to be teaching her about this life, but it’s her who’s teaching me– maybe, just maybe risking my heart is worth the heartache that will inevitably follow. Because even though I know this can’t end well, holding myself back from her is hurting both of us almost as much as giving myself could.
I wish we could stay in this moment forever but we can’t. Reluctantly, I rearrange her so she’s sitting sideways in my lap. ‘Drink?’ I offer.
‘Why not?’ Her gaze shifts to the Beckett’s Gold beside us. ‘I tried it during the week. It’s good.’
‘I would say I’ll pass the compliment on to my brother,James, but naturally I can’t.’ I lean across her to reach the bottle and pour her an inch. ‘I can get you some champagne if you prefer.’
‘No, this is good, thanks.’ She accepts the glass I hand her and clinks it against mine in a silent toast. ‘What are they like, your brothers?’ She lifts the glass to her lips and sniffs it appreciatively before sipping it.
‘They’re great. They’d kill for me. Die for me. Rian’s a pain in the ass a lot of the time,’ I admit, ‘but I’m lucky to have them.’
‘Why do you hide this place from them?’ She sweeps an arm around the room.
I think long and hard before answering her. ‘Because it’s the one place that I have that’s mine. That I can be myself in. I’m not just one of the “Becketts” here. I’mtheBeckett. And I don’t want to compromise that.’
She takes another sip, eyeing me over the rim of the glass.
‘Do you have a place you can just be yourself? Or do you even have to keep the princess mask up behind closed doors of the palace?’ Her words from the first night bomb back into my brain.
‘Duties. Charity functions. Photoshoots. Every minute of my life is mapped out for me. I’ve been banished here to consider my options—the truth is, I don’t have any. And I never will.’
We have more in common than anyone could guess.
She sighs, and the scent of whiskey carries on her breath. ‘There’s only one place I’ve ever felt… anonymous. St. James’s Park, directly across from the palace. Sometimes I sneak out wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses, dodging security.’ A wistful look etches into her glazed eyes. ‘I sit on this one bench and watch real people living real lives—mothers with their children, couples arguing about nothing important, teenagers being reckless.’ Her voice drops. ‘For those stolen moments, I’m not a princess. I’m just… no one. And it’s the mostfreedom I’ve ever tasted. Whenever I escape, that bench is always my first stop—the only place that’s ever felt like mine.’
‘I’ll bear it in mind, just in case,’ I joke, but the words drip from my tongue dark and serious.
‘If only.’ She gives a tiny shake of her head, and I glimpse how truly trapped she really is.
Chapter Twenty-Two
LAYLA
I stand before the floor-length mirror in my private chambers at Ardmore, barely recognising the woman staring back at me. A midnight blue silk gown flows like liquid sapphire against my skin. The bodice clings to my curves before flowing into a dramatic train that pools at my feet.
My hair cascades in loose Hollywood waves over one shoulder, leaving the other bare save for the glittering drop earrings that catch the light with every movement. The sapphire and diamond parure—necklace, earrings, and bracelet create a constellation of blue fire against my throat and wrists. The Queen is clearly keen for me to make a good impression on Lord Ashworth. But as I adjust the necklace one final time, it’s not him at the forefront of my mind. It’s Sean.
This feels so wrong.
Perverse, even, after the last few weeks, but it’s just another one of my duties. If I don’t at least make it look like I’m interested in Lord Ashworth, my parents will bring me home. Mad how only a few weeks ago I was desperate to get back to the bright lights of London, now I prefer the darkshadows of Dublin. Day and night, my thoughts are consumed entirely by a billionaire who knows my body more intimately than I do.
Each time we’re together is more thrilling than the time before. I can’t even try to deny it; I’m falling hard and fast for a man I can never have. A man without a title. A man whose family has been splashed across the papers for sex scandals, and that’s not even including Sean’s sex club.
We haven’t been back to the main lounge for a couple of weeks. I get the impression he’s reluctant to share me. We still haven’t communicated outside of his exotic underground chambers. I’ve thought about texting him so many times but calls and texts can be tracked, and we’re supposed to be strangers.
Would he care if he knew I was attending a ball with another man tonight?
Would jealousy flicker behind those controlled ebony eyes?
Or would he simply revert back to clause 6.2—that what happens outside Reveal’s walls is none of his concern?
He has no claim on my time, my attention, or my body beyond our scheduled sessions–by his own stipulations. But after everything we’ve done in the sultry confines of his club, my treacherous mind keeps wondering if he’d want one.
