Exposed: Laid Bare: Volume 1

by S. R. Grey

  Slowly, he reached out and moved aside the draped material at my chest, exposing one breast.

  “I like this dress,” he said. “And I’m glad you wore it.”

  He pinched one nipple, and I gasped from the sharp pain. I was also instantly aroused. This state of arousal, however, was unlike all the other times I’d thought of Lucien, all the times I’d touched myself thinking of him. Almost unbelievingly, this was much more intense.

  Lucien smiled, and I thought: He must know my thoughts. If he can inject himself in my head, perhaps he can see what is in there, as well?

  “Not everything,” he replied in a low, husky voice.

  “You heard me in your head?”

  “Yes.”

  “What are you?” I asked, peering up at him curiously.

  I received no answer. Instead, he said, “I want that picture, Dahlia.”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  It was my only hold over him, my only power play.

  “We’ll see about that,” he replied, smirking.

  Lucien suddenly swept me up in his arms. His strength was amazing. He held me pressed to him with ease as he leaned down and kissed me ferociously. There were no other words to accurately describe his hunger, his desperate touches, or his exertion of power over me.

  Finally, he lowered me so I could stand beside him on the step. I found my footing and waited while he moved one step lower, to the step I’d been standing on before he lifted me to him.

  From this new vantage point, he crouched down, like a feral being, and ran a firm hand up my stocking-covered leg. Stopping at the garter, he rasped, “Sexy. You are so sexy.”

  “Lucien,” I moaned.

  His touch was already driving me wild with lust. I felt my pussy grow wetter and wetter. Lucien’s strong hand trailed higher, and when he found me lacking panties—and dripping for him—he let out a lust-filled growl.

  Kneeling on the step below me, he urged me to spread my legs wider. “Lean back and hold onto the railing,” he ordered.

  I did as commanded, and then Lucien lifted my dress and placed his head between my legs. He went at me like my folds were the most delicious treat, lapping and licking and doing things with his tongue that were decadent and sinful.

  I gripped his dark hair, and gasped. “Yes, right there,” when he drove his tongue up into me.

  Pressing at just the right spot resulted in me coming…and coming…and coming. Finally spent, I almost crumpled to the ground. But Lucien kept me upright.

  I thought it would all end there, I thought he would send me on my way. And I especially thought he would once again demand I relinquish the photograph of him, the incriminating shot that exposed him as something more than a mere man.

  But none of those things happened.

  Instead, Lucien gathered me in his arms and carried me the rest of the way up the stairs. He was surprisingly gentle, and I felt as if I were in some twisted fairytale where he was my prince. A dark prince, yes, but a prince nonetheless.

  With his shoulder, he pushed open the glass door at the top and stepped into the private club. I glanced around. It seemed this was an area that had not been used in some time, as heavy cloths lay draped over furnishings that mostly consisted of high-backed chairs, low tables, and a single long sofa.

  Lucien walked over to the sofa and deposited me on the covered cushions. “Take off your dress,” he demanded as he kicked off his polished shoes.

  I did as he requested, my dress coming off at the same instant he removed his suit jacket.

  “Lay back,” he commanded.

  “Okay,” I murmured.

  I allowed my body to relax back into the plushy sofa. Surprisingly, the heavy cloth covering the piece of furniture was smooth, soft, and luxurious-feeling. I molded my almost-nude body into the cushions and giggled. As with the other times with Lucien, I felt like I was high. I suspected I was in some way—I was high on him. He had exerted his magic, or whatever, and I was drunk on him.

  What weird powers he possessed.

  I felt so giddy, so aroused. It was the strangest combination. I writhed on the sofa, allowing the soft covering to bunch up between my legs. Giggling, I collapsed to my stomach, and when my breasts rubbed against more luxurious material, I moaned.

  With the fabric still bunched between my legs, Lucien wound his fingers in the softness and began to move the luxurious material back and forth against my throbbing clit. “Do you like that?” he asked.

  I groaned out, “Yes,” and he continued, bringing me to a quick orgasm. I arched up as I came. I was naked, except for the stockings and garter, and Lucien’s eyes zoned in on the lingerie.

  His gaze was hungry, and I seductively asked, “Should I take these off?”

  I snapped the garter, the sting feeling good against my hypersensitive skin.

  Lucien loosened his tie, his eyes never leaving me. “No,” he replied.

  I was on my knees, and when I began to lower my hips to the sofa Lucien stopped me. “No. Keep that ass up,” he commanded.

  “All right,” I said, complying.

  Lucien unzipped his pants and positioned himself behind my kneeling and arched-for-him form. I kind of liked the imbalance in power—me helpless and basically naked, and him clothed and in control.

  He grasped my hair and urged my face down into the cushions, his hard cock nudging at my slick core. “Do you want this?” he asked, pushing in only a fraction of his substantial length.

  “Yes,” I replied, my voice muffled.

  No sooner had the word left my mouth and Lucien was thrusting into me, pounding and pounding. This was so much harder than the other time we’d been together. But I loved it. And like the first time, I felt only pleasure.

  But at some point, Lucien let up on whatever magic he was sending my way, and the pain of his primal, relentless thrusts became unbearable. Sensitive parts of me that had not healed from the first go-round with him throbbed. Scooting forward, I held onto the arm of the sofa and pulled away. But Lucien was right there on me.

  Crying out, I tried again to get away. “Wait,” I pleaded.

  He wrapped his hand in my auburn tresses and wrenched my head back. His cock was inside me to the hilt as he asked, “Is this too much?”

  “Maybe,” I said, my breaths labored. “I think I might need a rest.”

  Lucien chuckled. “Too bad, Miss Vaughn. There is no rest for the wicked.” His tone was unapologetic as he drove into me harder than ever, and added, “And you, my dear, are very wicked. Teasing me, taunting me. You’re going to take everything I give you tonight.”

  He was so rigid, so swollen, and there was no escaping him. I should never have taunted him with the photo. With every frenzied thrust, I feared he might break me in two.

  But then a strange thing happened.

  I felt myself molding to him, savoring him. I let go, giving myself over to Lucien. And in that moment of succumbing, there was suddenly no more pain.

  “See,” he murmured as he leaned over me and whispered in my ear, “it’s so much better, much easier for you, when you don’t fight me.”

  “Yes,” I agreed.

  And it was easier, better. Giving in to Lucien was the key. So I let go. I gave him my body, and I gave him my mind.

  And he took all I gave.

  Soon, I felt Lucien everywhere inside of me.

  He banded his arms around me. He played with my breasts with one hand, while his other hand caressed my clit. And all the while, the hard fucking continued. Continued and continued, well into the night and straight into the morning. It was hours and hours of unparalleled ecstasy. There was no more discomfort, only wave after wave of mind-blowing pleasure.

  But then it all came to an end.

  Before Lucien left me, lying on the covered sofa, naked and exhausted, he whispered in my ear, “Happy New Year, Dahlia.”

  “Happy New Year, Lucien,” I rasped, my voice but a ragged whisper.

  He laughed.

>   And then he left.

  But I knew I’d see him again, seeing as I still had the picture he wanted.

  “What the hell, Dahlia? What in God’s name happened to you last night? I was searching all over, but I gave up, assuming you left.”

  I woke to Veronica’s voice and her hands on me. She was trying to cover my bare body with a sheet. I was so sore, my muscles aching, my skin tender to the touch.

  “No,” I mumbled as I pushed her—and the sheet—away.

  “Come on,” she said, her tone coaxing. “Sit up a bit. Work with me here.”

  I opened my eyes, but things were blurry. I was hung-over from my time with Lucien. He had ravaged me all night, and I knew I probably looked a wreck as a result. Veronica appeared exhausted, as well. Her make-up was smeared, and there were dark circles under her eyes. Still, I could only imagine how much worse I looked.

  Reluctantly, I sat up and allowed her to wrap the sheet around my shoulders. My dress was on the floor, and she picked it up. “I suppose you and Lucien worked things out?”

  Her tone, though light, was laced with disapproval. She raised an eyebrow when I neglected to respond, and I shrugged my shoulders. “Uh, I guess. We didn’t really talk all that much, though.”

  Veronica sighed. “Dahlia…” She shook her head. “Let’s get you dressed and back to your apartment, okay?”

  I nodded. “Okay.”

  Though she said nothing more, I saw in Veronica’s eyes what she was thinking. My cousin thought me a fool. I’d allowed Lucien to do with me whatever he wanted, and I was again left with no answers.

  Only more questions.

  One thing I was certain of was that Lucien would find a way to see me again. Had he arranged to attend the New Year’s party once he found out—however that was—that I would be there? I highly suspected so.

  “He’ll see me again,” I told my reflection the evening of the first day of the New Year.

  I was back at my apartment, courtesy of Veronica. She’d helped me get into my dress back at the club, and then driven me home. We’d been so exhausted that we hadn’t discussed much beyond how we couldn’t wait to get some sleep.

  I’d lain down immediately upon entering my bedroom, and then I’d slept for hours, dead to the world.

  It was now nine in the evening. I’d eaten, but I still needed to take a shower. I was covered in dried sweat and God knew whatever else from my time with Lucien and the things we’d done.

  Brushing my hair in front of the mirror above my dresser, I scanned my naked body.

  There were light bruises and marks all over me from my night with Lucien. Nothing I couldn’t handle, though. Even the soreness I’d felt for so many days seemed to be dissipating, which was odd. My discomfort should have been worse today, certainly not better.

  “It’s because you’re becoming his,” I whispered to my reflection. “You’re giving in to him.”

  “Yes, you are,” a deep voice rang out from behind me, startling me so much that I jumped and spun around.

  Shit, Lucien Chambers was in my bedroom.

  “H-how did you get in here?” I stuttered in a shaky voice.

  I was frightened, but I was also thrilled to see Lucien again so soon.

  “Does it matter how I got in?” he asked, striding toward me. “The more apt question is: do you want me to leave?”

  “Yes,” I replied, covering my naked body with my hands. “I mean no.”

  He reached where I stood. I expected him to touch me, but he didn’t.

  Peering down at me, Lucien—so tall and foreboding, me so weak and small—asked, “Well, which one is it, Miss Vaughn? Yes…or no?”

  “Dahlia,” I whispered. “Call me by my first name.”

  I was tired of formalities. We’d broken through all that crap our first night together. Or so I had thought. But the walls had been re-erected when I’d called him and he had so unkindly reminded me that we were essentially strangers. But surely all the things we’d done last night called for an intimacy beyond last names.

  Lucien saw this in my eyes and read this in my head. He knew, and he said to me accordingly, “As you wish, Dahlia.”

  I reached for a robe, but his strong hand caught my outstretched arm. “No,” he said curtly. “Stay as you are. You want honesty? Then keep yourself uncovered.”

  Somehow I knew he meant more than my naked body. “You want my mind, as well?”

  “I want all of you, Dahlia.”

  “So, take all of me,” I urged.

  And he did.

  Lucien came at me. He picked me up and tossed me on the bed like I was a rag doll. “Oh,” I breathed out, excited by an even more aggressive version of him.

  “Look at me,” he said, garnering my attention.

  I watched as he took off all of his clothes, exposing his lean and sculpted body to my hungry gaze.

  I wanted him so much.

  Spreading my legs so he could see the effect he had on my body, I asked, “Do you do this to me?”

  He stepped closer to the bed and dipped a finger between my legs. “As I told you last night, Dahlia, your reactions to me are your own.”

  I fell onto my back and let him finger me. I spread my legs farther in an invitation for him to do with my body whatever he desired. But Lucien slid his fingers out of me.

  “Why are you stopping?” I asked.

  “I’m not,” he said as he crawled up the bed. “I’m just getting started.” He hovered over me, lowering his hips to the juncture between my thighs.

  With his throbbing cock pressing at my entrance, he asked, “Do you do this to me?”

  “You tell me,” I said.

  With that, he thrust into me—encompassing me, owning me. I thought things would become rough and harsh, as they had the night before, but Lucien stilled and peered down at me. In a pained voice, he admitted, “You are my weakness, Dahlia.”

  His eyes were normal tonight, no otherworldliness. I stared up into the rich brown pools, searching for more. I wanted to find meaning behind his words, more insight into this man…if he even was just a man. I also longed to ask how I could be his weakness, when it seemed the exact opposite was true.

  But there was no chance to discern or ask anything. Lucien buried his face in the crux of my neck, and then got down to the business of fucking me senseless.

  Time ceased to exist. The pleasure I experienced with him was again unparalleled. My entire body—no, my entire being—became one with Lucien. There was no more him and me, there was only us.

  Afterward, I slept encircled in his strong arms. But unfortunately, when I awoke, he was gone from my bed.

  “Lucien,” I called out.

  Silence.

  I sat up and pulled the sheet we’d left wrinkled and damp around my bare body. It was then I noticed all my bruises and marks from our earlier encounters were gone.

  “That’s impossible,” I murmured.

  But no, the truth was before me. I was healed.

  Lucien had healed me. Now, I really needed to see him.

  I knotted the sheet at my chest to keep it in place and stood. I hurried to the living room, but no one was there.

  Lucien Chambers was gone. I felt it in my heart.

  Collapsing onto the sofa, I let out a long breath. “No,” I cried out. “He can’t be gone.”

  I shifted my weight and felt something slide beneath me. Lifting my ass, I glanced down to see what was there.

  Aah, all the photographs I’d printed.

  Quickly, I moved aside and gathered the images. All the shots of Lucien appeared to be in order.

  But wait… All were accounted for, except for one.

  “No, no, no,” I cried as I dropped the photos back onto the sofa and raced over to the computer.

  It seemed to take forever to boot up. “Come on, come on,” I urged the machine.

  At last, when everything was up and running I accessed my folders. The folder marked Private—the one with all the sexy sho
ts of me—was still there, as was the folder with the normal pics of Lucien. I opened that folder, and like with all the printed pictures, the pictures I’d taken of him were in order.

  Except for one…one picture had been deleted.

  “You erased it,” I whispered. “And you took the one printed photo that could have exposed you for who you really are. You took the one picture that would show the world you’re more than just a man.”

  In my head I heard Lucien laughing. Laughing, as he admitted, “Yes, Dahlia, I took the photo. I took what you should never have captured.”

  And in that instant, all went silent.

  There was no more Lucien in my head, and my body no longer felt in that constant state of arousal.

  I felt only two things now—tired and spent.

  I would never again see Lucien. Sure, I might run into him somewhere someday, but our time together as I knew it, however short, was over.

  Bereft in a profound way, I crumpled to the ground.

  I would complete my assignment, I vowed. I’d turn in the shots of Lucien. They were good photographs, capturing a confident and successful business man, but I no longer cared about the accolades I’d receive.

  I felt too lost to care about anything.

  How could I ever forget what I knew about Lucien Chambers? I had seen more, been touched by more. I was different now because of the things he’d exposed to me. I knew in my soul I was still connected to Lucien in some visceral way. He may have tried to break our connection, but it was still there. Faintly, yes, but not completely severed.

  So where was I supposed to go from here?

  Days passed, weeks passed, months passed. My photos of Lucien ran in the magazine. I received several accolades, as I’d expected. I even won a small award.

  But it all meant nothing.

  I got up every day. I ate, I showered, I worked, and I slept. On the weekends, I spent time with Veronica, watching movies or ordering in food. I never went out socially. I had no desire to date or meet men.

  How could any man ever compare to what I had experienced?

  Veronica tried to cheer me up, but it was of no use. I was empty, incomplete. Something was missing. And I knew what that something was—Lucien.