Total pages in book: 230
Estimated words: 217798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1089(@200wpm)___ 871(@250wpm)___ 726(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 217798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1089(@200wpm)___ 871(@250wpm)___ 726(@300wpm)
My cheeks heat. “If you could point me in the right direction.”
“Please follow me,” she says, sounding relieved. Of course I have no idea where to find my husband. Before last night I never stepped foot in this house.
After an hour-long hike through plush carpet and marble and gleaming wood floors in a herringbone pattern, I’m shown in to my husband.
Francisco is working in his study. It’s a large, masculine space with miles of worn leather paneling. It feels like a throne room, and Francisco completes the illusion. He sits behind a large, hand-carved desk, a slash of sunlight across his face. The desk is made of Bocote, one of the most expensive woods in the world, with a gorgeous, contrasting grain. Everything about him is as pressed and perfect as he was for our wedding.
He’s like this all the time, isn’t he? Always in control.
A large gray dog sits at attention next to his desk. His dark eyes narrow on me. He lets out a bark, and Francisco’s eyes come up from the sheaf of papers he’s been reviewing. There’s frank possession in his gaze...and a light there, too. He’s pleased to see me. I try to be less pleased to see him. Try to keep my guard up. There are things I need to discuss with him before this goes any further.
“This is Isabella,” he tells the dog as casually as if it’s human. “My wife.”
Every time he calls me that, another shock of disbelief and pleasure runs down my spine. I like how it sounds. But I don’t like this unmoored feeling I have. The marriage to Francisco was supposed to be advantageous for my family and his. It was supposed to be simple.
The maid’s face between my legs does not seem simple.
The dog’s ears perk up as if he understands his master.
I drop to one knee. “Come here, sweet puppy.”
The dog lets out a whine of excitement and comes running up to me, giving me a big, wet lick across my face that has me laughing.
“Down, Wolf,” Francisco says.
Wolf completely ignores him and rubs his massive, furry body into my arms. Francisco mutters something about poor training and snaps his fingers. Finally the dog glances at his owner and slinks away to sit by the desk again.
Brushing the gray fur off my clothes, I make my way to the chairs on the other side of Francisco’s desk and sit, back straight, chin up. Focus. This is not about the fact that he has an adorable monster of a dog.
“Last night was…unexpected.”
“Was it?” he asks, his tone bland.
“I’d like to discuss it. I’d like to discuss what kind of marriage this is, exactly.” I keep my voice even and calm despite my very frantic thoughts. Despite the desire and shame and confusion that have all descended on me at the same time.
“The usual kind, I suppose. Though I’ve never been married before.” His dark eyes meet mine. “I did prepare you for what it would be like between us.”
“You said you were commanding in the bedroom. That means… what? Giving orders. Following them. Maybe you’d use a flogger. I was prepared for a lot, but not that.”
His lips quirk. “You want me to use a flogger?”
“Don’t make fun of me.”
“I’m not laughing, my dear wife. Though what I actually said was that I’ll keep you so sexed up, so blissed out on orgasms that you wouldn’t care that much about how commanding I get. I said you’d learn to love it, and I think I’ve been true to my word.”
True to his word? True to his word? “Last night. I don’t even know what to call it.”
“A threesome.”
A little charge of electricity runs through me. “Yes. That. You didn’t say there’d be threesomes.”
“I didn’t spell out what we’d do every night. Even I haven’t decided that far in advance. I’ll give the orders. You know that much; you just don’t know what the orders will be.”
I’m flushed with both adrenaline and arousal. This is my first fight as a married couple. Neither of us is shouting, but it’s a conflict. One that might break us up before we’ve even made it a week. We’d be slaughtered on Instagram for breaking up so fast. They would crucify me for being a capricious socialite again, but I don’t care about that. I care about the investment in Bradley Hotels. That’s what’s at stake here. “Tell me what you’ll order me to do. Describe it in detail, Francisco. That’s what I need from you.”
He steeples his hands together, considering. There is a very real chance he’ll refuse my request. And then where will that leave me? Like Alice falling through the endless blackness, down the rabbit hole of sexual eccentricity. It doesn’t help that in these seconds I notice how strong his wrists look. How capable his hands look, hands that knew just how to touch me.