Page 64 of Bared

Not as she lolled her head back, scattering her dark bangs across her dewy forehead. Definitely not as the curves of her mouth fell open, making way for velveteen gasps that warmed his cheeks and lips.

She was spellbinding. A dream. Like a painting on a medieval fresco, meant to embody the wages of sin but secretly beckoning every male in the church to sign their soul over to Lucifer.

He’d be the first in line.

And why not? A long time ago, he’d resigned himself to the eventual direction he was headed for. She’d just make the journey worth it.

Already, she’d made living more worth it.

Perhaps more than that.

Holy mother of all hidden treasures. His Dominant mojo was back. No. It was back. He’d cuffed a perfect little subbie with a goddamned cookie cutter and then fucked her until she’d shattered, screaming his name. And he’d climaxed for her too. Given her so much, he wondered if his dick had any swimmers left.

That answer was yes.

Because he already wanted to do it again.

Even as he lifted her wrists to free her from his creative shackle. Even as he rubbed them, making sure he hadn’t broken her skin. And yeah, even as he softened inside her, knowing it’d be time to slip out soon. But so many veins in his shaft refused to give up. They already gave in to more fantasies as he slid Jayd off the counter, with her legs around his waist, and carried her into the bedroom.

Unbelievably—thankfully?—the actions also provided distraction. Once he’d laid Jayd down on the bed, he was flaccid enough to peel off the condom. A trip to the bathroom meant he could properly zip up and grab a towel for cleaning her too.

Once he stretched beside her and started doing just that, the visions weren’t so easy to avoid. The woman herself was no help, as she watched his every move with her endless aquas. Her whole body was still flushed and warm, giving off that elegant effervescence that was hers alone. It matched the smile that stretched across her face, turning the ribbon of her lips into a package he longed to bite open.

But not now.

It was time to chill shit out. To stop at his mental mountain stream and regroup his composure. Not a bad metaphor, considering a light summer rain began to fall outside. The traffic noises were quieter too. Montmartre never really slept, but there was a lull between the dinner crowd and the concert crowd, so the only sounds in the room were raindrops on the window and Jayd Cimarron’s contented hums.

Christ, how he liked being the master of those hums.

How he wished he was the master of so much more.

Her sighs and her cries, her whimpers and her screams…

What about “not happening in this lifetime” aren’t you getting here, dick for brains?

There was only now. These last few minutes with her. He was going to savor every second, even if that meant looking on while the woman fell asleep on him with startling speed.

Brick chuckled, accepting it as a compliment. Her exhaustion had been blatant from the moment she sat down in the bar, and nothing about the last few hours could exactly be called a break. Now, at least to her subconscious, she was warm and protected.

And to him, that was all that mattered.

He’d barely completed the full thought when a shrill scream knifed the air.

“What the—” he blurted, preparing to jolt from the mattress and assume a full battle stance—until identifying the source as the woman sleeping next to him. No, that wasn’t right either. Not the screaming part. Or the woman part. The fucking sleeping part.

Holy shit. He’d nodded off? Okay, what alternate universe had he tumbled into? Because in the one in which he’d woken up this morning, he was still him. A guy capable of showing a woman the stars without tossing her into the sky along with them. A kink club owner who’d accepted that the Dom dream just wasn’t meant for him. And definitely not a guy who fell asleep on watch duty without backup. Not when there was a prize this precious to guard.

The prize who, thank fuck, was still here.

A closer look revealed that Jayd was barely awake too. She blinked and pushed up, gazing toward the window. The rain was softer, but the crowds on the streets below were heavier. Brick glanced at his watch. Half past ten. Thank fuck. He hadn’t been comatose all night. On the other hand, he had no idea if Jagger, Oz, and Requiemme were still at the ER or half a block away.

A secondary concern from the second Jayd cried out again.

“Pixie. Hey. It’s only me. And you’re only dreaming. Sweetheart?”

Her eyes fluttered open. Not that it mattered. Her face was still clamped down with terror. Brick had seen all the signs before, from his own mirror, to label it differently.

He leaned in carefully, stroking her cheeks with his knuckles, until she blinked a bunch of times. A shaky sigh left her before she husked, “Br…Brickham?”