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No thank you.
I was using him as an escape hatch so I didn’t have to deal with Karson and him breaking into my house, fucking me and making me feel things for him.
It was a bitch move. Especially since I couldn’t get myself to go further than second base with the prince.
I lied and told him I was on my period, and he’d blushed, nodding in understanding, not pushing sex once I’d said that. He’d made sure to steer clear of that general area. He was one of those men who were mystified, scared and grossed out by menstruating women. The ones who wouldn’t dream of fucking a woman while bleeding.
The same ones who likely spoke big talk in public, who wore their masculinity like a badge sewn into their blown-up biceps. They were afraid of a little blood.
I knew for a fact that Karson would not be afraid of a little blood. He would fuck me hard, dirty and exquisitely whether I was bleeding or not.
I needed to be thinking about Tenzin and how he brought me hot tea, had a nice, lean swimmer’s body and talked about making me his princess.
I was too busy thinking about the man who had already made me his queen.
After being home from the Caribbean for two weeks, I had still not seen Karson.
While I was away, Stella had jumped feet first into a sex arrangement with Karson’s boss, Jay Helmick. That’s where she was this Saturday evening while Yasmin, Zoe and I were drinking and obviously talking about her situation.
“He’s going to hurt her,” Zoe grimaced, her dark eyes stormy as she sipped her drink.
Zoe did not approve of our loving, tender hearted, hopelessly romantic friend getting into a sex arrangement with a man who had a reputation for such things.
Zoe was a no nonsense, boss ass bitch who was ride or die for our small group of friends. She owned a lucrative PR firm, had her shit completely together and did not let men get in the way of anything. Men were lining up to get in her way, with her flawless ebony skin, her deep brown eyes, her amazing curves and the confidence she wore like couture.
Zoe was not a hopeless romantic.
“Yes,” I agreed, sipping my own drink. “And hopefully she’ll love it,” I added with a grin.
Zoe gave me a look. She did not narrow her brows or pinch her lips—Zoe was committed to skincare, and to do that, she schooled her expressions so they wouldn’t create undue lines. And because she kept most of her emotions close to her chest.
Because I’d known her for years, I knew that look was meant to be chastising.
“Oh, come on, Zoe. You’re telling me you haven’t been chained up in some millionaire’s sex dungeon before?” I asked sweetly.
Now Zoe broke her rule to scowl at me.
We all knew that Zoe may not have been into love, but she was into kink in a big way.
Who wasn’t?
A ball gag and some handcuffs, with the right guy… Exquisite.
“What Zoe is trying to say,” Yasmin interjected before things could escalate. “Is that Stella doesn’t know what she’s in for.”
I frowned at that, not worried about wrinkles. Most of mine were smile lines anyway, plus I was half Asian and blessed with excellent skin. Then there was a little thing I liked to call Botox.
“Stella is a grown woman,” I argued. “Jay, from what I understand, spelled it all out. Only weekends, every weekend, only sex, with only him. The arrangement can be terminated at any time if she feels like she’s in over her head. Which honestly, I think will be good for her. Why dip your toe in the water when you can get yourself drenched?” I waggled my brows. “No pun intended.”
Yasmin smiled despite herself. “I don’t disagree that Stella would benefit with some hot sex that is nowhere near vanilla, but our girl loves nineties romance movies. She loves Richard Gere. She thinks she’s going to change him. Turn it into something else. Even if she doesn’t know that, in her heart of hearts, she is hoping for that.”
“And, from what I hear,” Zoe took back the reins, “Jay Helmick does not change for anyone.”
“Stella is not anyone,” I countered.
Zoe nodded, grabbing a lukewarm fry from the bowl in the middle of the table. Girlfriend briefings always required booze and simple carbohydrates. “No, she isn’t. Stella is gorgeous, kind and loving. And she’s irresponsible. She maxes out her credit card every month, she has no retirement account, and she believes in the good in people. She believes, for some reason, that Jay is her white knight. Not because she needs to be saved, but because she wants the happily ever after,” she added, her hand raising in the air as I opened my mouth to argue the fact that Stella did not need saving.
“Speaking of saving,” Yasmin interjected. “She was saved by Jay, or one of his henchmen who beat a would-be rapist half to death … Karson, was it?”
