Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 31081 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 155(@200wpm)___ 124(@250wpm)___ 104(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31081 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 155(@200wpm)___ 124(@250wpm)___ 104(@300wpm)
My stomach dips. Heat scorches a path up my neck, blooming over my cheeks. “I was taken by surprise by a friend. He came into my bed, told me not to speak, and…” I shrug. He knows what.
“And?” he demands.
I gulp down more water, then shake off the embarrassment. “He pushed my shorts to the side and slipped inside me, fucking me hard and rough, then left like it never happened.”
“Was the friend Rupert?”
“What?” I bark. “No, we weren’t friends. I told you that!”
“Just checking,” he says with a grin.
“It was my father’s friend, not mine, but that just makes it feel worse.” I cringe.
“Why are you ashamed of that dream?” He places his fork down and clasps his hands together, resting them on the table.
“Because it’s been drummed into us to feel shame over sex. It’s different for women than it is men. If we think about being taken, we’re sick. Sluts. Guilty if something happens to us, right?”
He studies me for a long beat.
“Wrong, and I think you know that,” he says, his brow furrowing. “You’re a smart woman. There’s no shame in having fantasies or wanting to play them out. It doesn’t mean you want it to happen in reality—that you want to be forced or attacked. Consent is everything. In your dreams, fantasies, you control the narrative. It’s a misconception that you want to lose control and have the choice stripped. You are choosing this and in complete control of every aspect. It’s an illusion that you’re taken without permission. By force. A game, and one you shouldn’t feel guilty about.”
Would it be inappropriate to hug him right now? Yes, probably. I opt for handing him the contract I drafted.
“I want it to be you. I wrote up a contract I think you’ll be happy with.”
He stares at me a few silent beats, then picks up the folder, opening it and reading it over.
It’s excruciating waiting for him to decide if he’s going to agree. I push food around my plate for what feels like an eternity before he pulls out the pen tucked in his breast pocket and hovers it over the paper.
This is going to happen.
3
“This is a good contract,” I say, lifting my gaze to meet hers. “But it has holes.”
Her lips press together in a firm line. In her own environment, she is fierce and strong. My heart skips a little beat as I worry about what sort of monsters she’s avoided by choosing me instead. This contract of hers is bones. It’s missing meat. Muscle. Strength to protect her. If I were a monster, I could flick at the bones and they’d scatter as she lost herself to a dangerous game.
Luckily, I’m not a monster.
I’m a man.
A man she needs.
Exactly the man she needs.
“There’s no safe word on here.” Just the tiny tip of the iceberg.
She bristles. “No.”
“Did that word work before?” I lift a brow. “In your dream, I mean.”
“There is no magical word to stop someone from doing their worst,” she bites out, her neck turning splotchy red.
“No, but friends don’t do their worst to each other. Friends learn each other’s boundaries, and those boundaries need to be clearly defined. Are we friends, Quinn?”
She lets out a shaky breath and nods. “Sorry. This is new to me. I’m nervous.”
I reach over and take her hand. Gently, I press her thumb to my wrist so she can feel the erratic jumping of my pulse “So am I.”
This seems to settle her.
As enticing as this is, it’s begging for disaster. We both know this isn’t a fantasy based on a dream. Someone fucking hurt her. And I don’t want to be the person to screw her head up more. But if it’s not me, it’ll be someone else. A person who will take advantage of her. After spending a short time with her, I already know I don’t want to hurt her or betray her trust. Something about her just scratches away at my surface and burrows there. Quinn is the kind of girl who gets inside your head and lingers. It’s the most unusual thing, but not something I’m disappointed over. It’s refreshing. It makes me crave more.
“How about ‘hush’?” she asks.
“Like my club name?”
“Seems fitting.”
I smile at her. “I like it. Hush is a safe place for people to embark on their fantasy journey. It only seems right it’s also a safe word.”
“What else am I missing?” she asks, her body relaxing.
I scribble down the safe word, then tap the paper with my fingertip. “Where do you want this to happen? Here? The club? A public place?”
“Um, not outdoors. No cars.” She swallows, and her hand trembles.
Nodding, I write that down. “I’d rather do it in a private setting so no one who happens to see will misinterpret what’s happening.”