Total pages in book: 148
Estimated words: 143870 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 719(@200wpm)___ 575(@250wpm)___ 480(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 143870 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 719(@200wpm)___ 575(@250wpm)___ 480(@300wpm)
I did give this up, and regardless of the reasons, he doesn’t owe me anything.
“This was a mistake.” I reach for the phone with the intention of ending this conversation.
“Don’t run away, Chantel.”
I freeze for a breath.
“How do you know that name?”
His hesitation to respond makes me think that slip wasn’t intentional, which leaves me to wonder exactly how long he’s known.
“How do you know who I am?” I force out. “Have you seen me in public?”
“Yes,” he answers with a sigh.
I recall the photo he sent me the other day, and though it seems improbable he’d recognize me at the club, I ask anyway.
“Was it at Black Velvet?”
“Not initially, no.”
“But you’ve seen me there?”
“Yes.”
I think that over for a moment, and given what’s been happening with the notes at the club, I have to consider it.
“Are you stalking me?”
“You ended our arrangement,” he answers. “I gave you the space you asked for, even when it tested the limits of my restraint.”
I sit with that for a minute before I respond.
“But you came to Black Velvet?”
“Once.”
“To watch me…or the show in general?”
“You.”
That admission feels significant, but I’m not sure what to do with it.
Realistically, if he came to the club, he could be anyone from The Society. The fact that he mentioned testing his restraint makes me think he’s someone I’ve been around more than once.
It’s slightly terrifying, but there’s also a strange thrill in wondering how often he’s seen me in our real lives, and I never even knew it.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he says.
“I don’t really know what to think,” I confess. “I want to ask more questions, but I’m not sure I’m ready for that yet.”
“Then slide your fingers back inside your pussy and fuck it like I would.”
His roughly spoken order sends another rush of heat through me, and I latch onto the distraction. I’ll have plenty of time to overanalyze our conversation later, but for now, I want to lose myself in the fantasy.
As I touch myself, I can hear the shift in his breathing. There’s something intoxicating about this kind of exhibitionism and knowing he’s getting off as he watches me.
My thoughts run wild as I replay the fragmented memories I have of him. But as I try to recall the specifics, the details blur, and my mind substitutes familiar features.
Warm olive skin. Broad shoulders and a towering frame. That dark, intense gaze that twists me up in knots.
It all melds together, equally disorienting and addicting me as my fingers move faster, edging me closer to oblivion.
“So needy, aren’t you, dea?” Satisfaction bleeds through his voice. “Do you want to come?”
“Yes.” I breathe.
“Then ask me nicely.”
A quiet moan spills out of me as I try to formulate a sentence. “Please let me finish.”
“Only when I say so,” he dictates. “Now slow down and tell me why you tried to hang up on me.”
I let out a frustrated sound, because somehow I knew it would come back to this.
I’m too far gone to rationalize my thoughts, so I just set them free.
“I don’t like thinking of you with other women. I know it’s not fair, but I can’t help it.”
“Do you think you’re so easily replaceable?” He softens his tone.
I want to ask him what he means by that, but he doesn’t give me the chance.
“Show me where you want to be touched.”
It’s pure agony, but I slip back into the memory of our last time together, letting my hand roam over the places he claimed.
“There’s my good girl,” he rasps. “Do you want my attention?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“You never lost it.”
The amount of pleasure I derive from that statement leaves me drunk and restless. I can barely string together a thought as I start to beg him all over again. At this point, I’m willing to offer him anything if he’ll just relieve me of this torture.
“Tell me what you think of when you want to come.”
“You.” The truth wrenches out of me.
Another low hum of approval reverberates in his chest. “Me doing what?”
“All the things we never got to do.”
A ragged breath scrapes through the speaker, and I can tell he’s getting close too. The thought of him sitting there, legs spread wide as he strokes his cock, is the beginning of the end for me.
“Bran—”
“You can come now, dea.”
His words carry on a tortured groan, eviscerating the last of my restraint.
The orgasm explodes through me, stealing my breath and melting through my veins like the purest high. Endless waves of pleasure roll down my spine, wringing out every last contraction until I sink into the bed in a boneless heap.
It’s the most intense orgasm I’ve had since we were together, and my only regret is that Bran wasn’t physically here. This was the first time he allowed himself a release with me, and I didn’t even get to see it.