Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
“I thought you don’t serve minors?” I say, accepting the glass.
“We’re no longer in my club,” he returns, taking a sip. I follow suit, needing the distraction as well as the welcome burn of the whiskey. I take him in a second longer, before needing to break our eye contact. I turn away, taking in more of his place. He seems to be a fan of dark colors. Everything is dim and lacking vibrancy. Some purple and small resemblance of red poke out in the hanging artwork, but besides that, the room gives off an elegant, but depressing, vibe.
“This explains a lot,” I say, walking over to the gray couch. I sit down, taking another sip of my drink.
“About what?” he asks, but he doesn’t move.
“Your dark mood all the time. It’s because you live in such a depressing place. Ever think about lightening it up in here? Or do you prefer to always be grouchy?”
His brows lift as he looks around the room. “What exactly is wrong with it? Gray is a color of sophistication.”
I snort. “You mean emotionless? Damien, this place is dull, gloomy. I bet you don’t even turn the lights on in here.”
He stares at me like I’m totally…right! “You don’t, do you?”
He brushes his hand through his hair and swallows his entire glass. “I’m barely ever here. And when I am, it’s to sleep. No need for lights when you sleep.”
I start to laugh.
“What do you find so humorous?” He places his glass down and sits on the arm of the couch. My laugh dies a bit with him so close. He lays his arms on the rest, crossing his one leg over. Take away the moodiness, and he radiates such power. Dominance. I mean, why wouldn’t he? He does own a sex club. His amber eyes stand out, brightening the room. Even his suit is black and nicely fitted. The three times I’ve been with him he’s been without a tie, leaving the front two buttons open to the curiosity of what’s underneath. I wonder if it’s a ploy to capture more prey. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious at what’s behind door number one. “Are you going to eye fuck me or answer my question?”
I gasp at his bluntness. “I was not eye fucking you!” I snap back. I was so eye fucking him.
“Then answer my question.”
I slam the rest of my drink, set the empty glass on the table, and lay back, resting against the couch. “Only sleeping is not an excuse to turn on the lights. Maybe if you added some life in here, you wouldn’t be so grumpy, or bossy. It just seems…kinda lonely. May I advise getting a plant or something?” I look at him, who in return looks completely thrown off. Confused maybe? So, no plant?
“You think I should get a plant to help my bossiness?”
“Yeah, or maybe some colorful mugs for your coffee maker. Those are always a nice touch.” What the fuck am I talking about? My palms are sweaty and I’m suddenly nervous. I’m fidgeting with my hands, wishing I kept the glass just for them to have something to hold on to. Dare I bring my mind back to the scene downstairs. The desire. The essence of lust in the air. I could almost feel the warm exhale of the woman’s breath on my skin while we both lost ourselves under the hands of our lovers. How could I not be reminded of the way his passion-filled questions washed over my skin, his hands molded to my thigh or his fingers touching me so intimately. In that moment, he made me feel he had my entire body memorized as if we’d been lovers for a lifetime.
No doubt my cheeks are flushed at the memory. I can’t hide where my mind went, nor can he. His hands are to his side, formed into tight fists.
“Okay, so let’s put the cards on the table. What do you want from me?” I ask, breaking the sexual tension. Not that I really know anything about sexual tension. I’m also not sure why he needs me when he can have a real woman. Someone who could probably rock his world and a resume a mile long of experience.
“I want to break you.”
My stomach drops to the floor, and a wave of nausea comes over me. Wow, okay then. Let’s not hold back.
“Like…break me, break me?” The waver in my voice isn’t difficult to miss as I demonstrate cracking an invisible object in half. Breaking someone can have lots of meanings. And I sadly didn’t get the impression he was a killer.
I start to wiggle in my seat, unsure if this is where I’m going to die.
“Relax.”
“Yeah, kinda hard to do that right now.”
“I’m not going to hurt you. At least…not in the way you’re thinking.”