by Corgan, Sky
***
Apparently, Lucian just freshened up as well, because when he opens the door, he's wearing the same thing he had on earlier. Not that I can complain, because so am I.
“I'm surprised you're not half-naked,” I tease as I show myself in.
“Would that have made it easier for you to forgive me?” He leads me into the dining room and pulls my chair out like a perfect gentleman.
“Maybe.” I smirk at him over my shoulder.
“Then I'll strip for you right now.” He plays at unbuttoning his suit jacket, but when I put my hand on top of his, he stops. “I hope you like lobster.”
“Oh, expensive. Everything is expensive tonight, grand master chef. You're kissing my ass so hard your lips are going to be brown for a week.”
“Amy.” He furrows his brows at me.
“Too crude?” I draw my hand up to my mouth in mock apology. Oddly, it feels like most of my tension is gone. Spending time with Derrick worked wonders for my mood. And knowing that I'm really just here for sex makes me feel empowered.
“Maybe I should be glad I didn't take you to the restaurant.” There's no amusement in his tone. Did my ass kissing comment really offend him that badly?
I decide to blow it off, waiting patiently while he brings and serves me my food like a good little waiter. Seeing him leaning over to place my plate in front of me, his body angled at the hips and his back flat like a board, I can picture him waiting tables at some expensive restaurant. The thought makes me smirk, picturing him being poor, just a regular Joe. He was probably never a regular Joe though, not with a face and body like his.
“The library is open,” he tells me as he sits across from me. “Ask me anything you'd like.”
I'm so taken aback by his sudden blatant desire to share his life with me that my mind goes completely blank. I had originally planned on being nasty, asking him all of the dark, seedy questions that I knew would make me not want him anymore, but knowing that I actually want to have sex with him tonight, it doesn't seem like the smartest move.
“I've got nothing.” I mirror his movements, trying not to make a mess of my lobster tail.
“I'm surprised.” He stares down at his lobster, concentrating on cutting it up. “I thought you wanted to talk.”
“I do.” I feel my appetite slowly waning, my happiness fading away with the seriousness in his voice.
“What can I do to make you happier?”
I abandon my lobster to poke at my broccoli. As usual, everything on the plate is healthy. Not a carb in sight. Surely, the guy has a piece of cake from time to time. A bag of chips. A potato. Something that's not a protein or non-starchy vegetable.
“Don't push me away.” Is the first thing that comes to mind.
“I already told you I wouldn't.”
“And don't sleep with other women.” This one should be obvious.
“It's just you from now on.”
“And quit working at Flesh.” I expect an immediate response, but he just grunts this time. When I look up at him, he seems lost in thought. “And quit working at Flesh,” I repeat, putting more emphasis on the words.
“I can't do that.” There's a coldness in his tone that sends a spike of pain through my heart. I'm not sure why it hurts. He already told me that he wouldn't give up working at Flesh.
“Why not?” I set my silverware down and stare at him.
“It's complicated.” He avoids my gaze, stuffing a piece of lobster in his mouth as if him eating will end the conversation.
“That's not an answer. We're being honest and open here, remember. You tell me or I leave. That's how this is going to work.”
He swallows hard and looks up at the ceiling. “I need things that you can't give me. Things that I can only get at Flesh.”
“What kind of things?” I continue eating, content with the fact that I got him talking again.
He clips his bottom lip with his teeth for half a second, and my eyes zero in on the tiny red marks where I bit him earlier. It's at that moment I realize he's wearing concealer.
“Holy shit, you're wearing makeup.” I practically burst out laughing.
He narrows his eyes at me, not amused. His hand moves to the place where I bit him, and he brushes it lightly with his fingertip. “It's important to keep up appearances.”
“Do you always wear makeup?” I lean in to look at his face better.
His jaw tenses, and I realize that I'm starting to piss him off, which makes me instantly pull back. “No, Amy. I don't always wear makeup. Only when upset girls decide to bite my face.”
“Sorry.” I sink down into my chair a bit.
“It's alright.” He brushes the place where I bit him a final time before dropping his hand back to his lap. “I kind of deserved it.”
“Kinda,” I huff. “You try to force yourself on me and then say you kinda deserved to be bitten.”
“To be fair, you pretty much kicked my ass for it, so I think we're even.”
“Kicked your ass?” I parrot back and then laugh again.
“Yes.” He smirks. “You bit my lip and broke skin. My leg is bruised. And the jewels haven't exactly recovered either.”
I practically snort wine out of my nose at that last part. “Oh lord, your poor jewels. I'll kiss them better later if you're a good boy.” I wink at him.
“Will you, now?” He picks up his glass and swirls the deep red, giving me a look that wipes the grin right off of my face and brings a blush to my cheeks.
Can't get distracted. Can't get distracted. I still need to know why he won't leave Flesh.
I cough, trying to break his spell of seduction that's quickly driving my mind to dirty places. “Flesh,” I stutter. “Why won't you quit?”
“I told you, for our relationship to work, for me to give you what you want and for me to still get what I need, I can't give it up.” He takes a sip of wine.
“That doesn't make sense to me though.” I shake my head. “I'll give you whatever you want as long as it's within my power. At least, I'm willing to try.”
“Amy.” He sucks a breath in between clenched teeth. “There are things that I do to people there that I would never in a million years want to do to you. You're very...precious to me. The thought of seeing you hurt the way that I need to...” His face sets with agitation. “No. The answer is no.”
“No?” I quirk my head back. “Lucian, this isn't optional.”
“And neither is me leaving Flesh.”
When he looks up at me, it feels like his gaze is piercing right through me, shooting through my heart and nailing me to the wall. This is what I feared would happen—what I knew would happen. I'm not enough for him. This isn't going to work out.
My desire to be intimate with him is lost in the seriousness of the situation. I pull my napkin off of my lap, ball it up, and set it on the table before pushing my chair back.
“What are you doing?” his tone is suddenly alarmed.
“What does it look like I'm doing? I'm leaving.” I stand and pull my purse off of the back of the chair. “I came here so that we could discuss the potential for us having a relationship. You don't want to budge on your stance. I won't budge on mine. This conversation is over. We obviously aren't good for each other and can't be together.”
“Amy, wait.” He stands to stop me.
I give pause, looking at him. “It's Flesh or me. You have to choose.”
The panic in his expression is almost palpable. “Amy, you don't...I can't...If I did to you the things that I do to those women, you would run the other way. Fast.”
“Try me.” I cross my arms over my chest.
“No.” He shakes his head.
I throw my hands up in annoyance. “Then that's it. This is over. Thanks for dinner. I'm sorry I didn't get to eat much of it.” I head to the door, but he catches me by the wrist. It's a classic Lucian Reddick move. I know what he's going to do next, and I'm not in the mood for it.
“I don't want to do
those things to you because I care about you.”
I turn to him. “If they're so bad, then why do you want to do them to anyone?”
“Because I have a lot of pain inside, and I need to get it out somehow. This is how I do it.”
“That doesn't make you a very good Dom.” I jerk my arm away from him, and surprisingly, he doesn't try to grab me again.
He licks his lips, avoiding my gaze. “It doesn't make me a bad Dom. They want me to do it to them. They get off to it. And I get what I need from it as well. It works. But as I said, they're not things that I would ever want to do to someone I care about. Especially not to you.” He finally looks at me, and I can see the sincerity in his eyes.
I take a deep breath and wrap my arms around myself. Now it's my turn to look away. I want to help him. I want to be his one and only—the person he comes to for everything, the one who fills all of his emotional needs. But to do that, I'm going to have to take a big leap of faith, to try something that I'm becoming increasingly more worried that I won't like. And at this point, I'm not even sure if he'll let me try.
“Lucian,” I hesitate. “If this is going to work. If this has any hope of working, I need to see every part of you. The good, the bad, the ugly. I want to know what you do to those girls.”
He opens his mouth to speak but then doesn't, taking a moment to gather his words. “No, Amy. It's bad enough that you know this about me. I never wanted you to know.”
I step forward and slide my hand into his before closing my eyes. “If you're not going to tell me, then show me. Let me judge for myself if it's something I can handle or not.”
When I open my eyes, he's grinning. But it's not a playful grin or even happy. If there was any more sarcasm behind his expression, I might die from an overdose.
“You couldn't even handle the mild things I do, love.” His tone is bordering on arrogance as if he's actually proud of how intense he can get. It's a bit annoying and unnerving. Just seconds ago he was afraid of my reaction. Now he's basically calling me a pussy.
“Try me.” I cock a half-smile.
“I don't have to try you to know. Your pain tolerance is low and don't say it's not because I've read it on your original chart from Flesh at least half a dozen times.” His face goes serious.
My mouth falls open. I'm astonished that he has looked at my chart that many times since we met.
“It might have gotten a little higher.” There's no masking the uncertainty in my voice. I'm definitely trying to put on a brave front, and we both know it.
His grin broadens into a smile, and this time it's definitely amused. He leans forward to kiss my forehead, and I wince away though I don't know why. “See, already scared that I might hurt you.”
“Am not!” I pout.
He sighs, staring at me thoughtfully. “Can't we just leave this as it is? I'm giving you most of what you want. Let me have this.”
I don't want him to have it though. Because if I let him have it, it means that I'll always be sharing him in one way or another. That thought hurts. I should be enough for him.
“No.” I cross my arms over my chest again. “I want to see what you do to those girls. I want to know that...” That you're not seducing them. That you're not touching them inappropriately. That you don't look at them the same way that you look at me. All impossible things when I'm switching places with them. Because it's not the same. It will never be the same.
“I don't want you to know.” He shakes his head slowly.
“Then I should leave.” I nod decidedly. If he won't let me at least attempt to bear this weight for him. If he doesn't even want to give me a chance to try to be his everything, then I'd rather be nothing to him.
His expression softens. “You have to be the most stubborn woman I've ever met.”
“Touche.” I roll my eyes. “Minus the woman part, of course.”
I expect him to finally give up. To let me go. We both know this isn't working. It's a constant battle to make each other happy, and it's pretty obvious at this point that we're never going to win. But then he says, “I'll show you.”
“You will?” My heart leaps in my chest, half from joy and half from fear. Part of me knows that I just signed a check that my ass probably can't cash, but I don't care. He's giving in to me, and at this moment, it's all that matters.
“After we eat.” He rounds the table to sit back down. “The food is getting cold. That's one thing I hate about lobster. Leave it for five minutes and it turns room temperature.”
I could not care less about the lobster. I'm so overjoyed that I've made some progress on the topic of Lucian and Flesh. If I can just endure whatever he does to me, then most of our problems will be solved. He'll give up Flesh, and we can finally have something close to a normal relationship.
CHAPTER THREE
For as much conversation as we had at the beginning of our meal, the rest of dinner is spent in silence. I stare across the table at Lucian while he eats. He looks contemplative like he's going over in his head exactly what he's going to do to me. My mind is aflutter with possibilities as well.
Every BDSM video I've ever seen plays through my head like a montage of pain and pleasure. Janice has shown me some pretty seedy stuff. Humiliation the likes of which no person should ever have to endure. Lashings that about broke the skin. Needles and knives and a dozen other things I'd never want to try. Am I really ready for this? Am I ready to see Lucian Reddick's worst?
I try not to think about it as I push broccoli around on my plate. Even though I'm not hungry, I force the lobster down. If my stomach didn't feel so tight from anticipation, I would probably be savoring every bite. Lucian knocked the ball out of the park again with his cooking. How he manages to make healthy food taste delectable, I'll never understand, but I'm very appreciative of it.
“You should finish your food.” He nods at my plate. “You're going to need your strength.”
I scowl at the broccoli like it's my enemy before doing what I'm told. Lord knows what I'll need my strength for, but I'm not going to doubt him. Besides, it feels like from this point on, or at least for the rest of the afternoon, my goal should be to please him, to show him that I have what it takes to give him what he needs in all facets of life.
Once the meal is done, Lucian takes our plates to the kitchen, and I go to the bathroom to wash up. Already, sweat is dotting my brow. My nerves are starting to get the better of me, and I have to take a few minutes to squash them down, to ground myself in the realization that this needs to be done. I wanted to see. I have to see. There's no backing out now.
When I step out of the bathroom, Lucian is waiting in the hall for me. His expression is deadpan. There's no kindness in his eyes, just the slightest hint of concern. He seems a bit nervous, though I can't really tell.
“Come.” He takes me by the hand and leads me to a door in the hallway.
My mind instantly flashes back to the time when I came to take pictures of Lucian's house for his interior design project. This particular door was locked then, and he told me that it was one of the rooms that didn't need to be redecorated.
There's no mystery to what's behind the door now. It's a dungeon. I know that before he takes the key out of his pocket and slides it into the lock. If he had hoped I would gasp with shock, then he'll be sorely disappointed.
He opens the door to me, giving me a glimpse inside. I wrap my arms around myself as my eyes take in the room. It's not ominous looking like the red room in Flesh. The walls match the rest of the house, and there's good lighting overhead. Not like any dungeon I've ever seen.
Admittedly, I don't know what most of the furniture is. The room is missing the classic Saint Andrew's Cross that seems to be a staple of most dungeons. There's more than enough other furniture to make up for it though, chairs and benches and tables. Some look like Lucian might have stolen them from his plastic surgery practice. Others appear to be custom made. It's an impressive spread.
My eyes dance from piec
e of furniture to piece of furniture, trying to discern their various uses. Then they finally land on the bed at the back of the room, and I gasp.
***
“It's the bed from the furniture store.” I take long strides across the room to get to it. “The one that we...”
“Yes.” I can hear the grin in Lucian's voice, but it's tempered with something else. Something dark and sensual.
The frame has been painted black, and the light floral comforter has been replaced with a plain black one. I run my fingertips over it, my mind instantly drifting to our coupling in the furniture store. Somehow, seeing the bed in this room, a room built for sexual fantasy, has my hormones heating up. A blush comes to me cheeks as I begin to realize that I kind of want this to happen. I want to have another scene with Lucian. A real scene.
Last time, I dipped my toe into the BDSM world. This time, I'll be diving in head first.
I turn to him with new resolve, my eyes landing on his satisfied expression. He steps up to me, so close that I can smell his cologne. I straighten the front of his jacket, my eyes growing hooded as I surrender to my secret desires.
“Are you ready?” he asks.
“Mhm.” I nod curtly. I don't think I've ever been more ready to experiment than I am now.
“Good.” He places his index finger under my chin, tipping my face up to look at him. “In here, you will do everything that I tell you to. You will call me Sir and only Sir.”
The way he's talking sends a warm shiver down my spine that rolls all the way to my core. The dominance of his voice is so stupidly sexy that I can already feel myself getting wet. We should have done this a long time ago. Why was I always so afraid of it?
“Since you want to know what goes on at Flesh, we're going to do this as if we were at Flesh,” he continues. “You will use the standard safety words. Yellow for if it's getting too intense. Red if you want me to stop completely.”
“No safety words.” I shake my head.