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Everything about her was different, and our scenes would be too. Kyra was unlike any woman I’d been with before, so she would say my name. I wanted her to.
“Are you sure you want me as your first?” I ask hesitantly.
“Yes,” she answers, before I can correct my slip and add the words scene partner.
I want to ask what exactly she thinks she’s agreeing to, but I don’t want to destroy the image she’s just created. I’d rather perpetuate the fantasy that my sweet angel wants me as her first fuck.
CHAPTER NINE
WHITE LIE – LENII
Kyra
“What are your safe words, Kyra?”
“Don’t you know them from my form?” I ask, distractedly surveying the room.
Sutton’s turned up the music and dimmed the lighting further, setting the stage for a more private experience. Standing in the center, we’ve garnered the attention of most of the crowd. It’s a weekday, relatively quiet, and there are two other scenes taking place, one by the St. Andrew’s cross on our left, and another under the wrought-iron awning against the far wall. Impact and suspension play. And here…the mysterious scene Leo has planned.
The anticipation has my heart fluttering wildly in my chest. My skin tingles as eyes rove over my form, but I’m not uncomfortable. I suspected as much from my night’s playing for them. Being the subject, the exhibition, is electrifying. Their gazes aren’t scrutinizing but rather intrigued.
They don’t pressure, or judge, or laugh. They simply watch, enraptured by the couples before them. And being able to steal their focus, amass the savoring looks and collective arousal, is a potent feeling. The only truly daunting part of this experience is standing in front of the man who’s occupied every forbidden thought I’ve had these past few months and not knowing what he’ll do next.
But it’s an exhilarating tension, an addictive energy that’s pulsing through my body.
In that moment I both hate and love how patient a man Leonardo Conti is.
He uses a finger to turn my chin back to him. “I do. But I need to hear them from your lips, know you aren’t afraid to say them.” His thumb draws a tender path along my jaw. “We give these words power, and I want to ensure you’re comfortable using them with me. Yes?”
I nod, but he raises an expectant brow.
“Yes,” I add.
“What will you say when you want me to stop?”
My eyes are cemented to his, and this close, I’m positive he can hear and feel my rapid breaths.
“Red,” I say hesitantly.
His soft smile is encouraging. “To slow down?”
“Amber.”
“And how will you ask me for more, little girl?” he says, his gruff voice sparking a dull throb in my core.
“Green.”
He closes his eyes and breathes deep, like he’s inhaling my words. When he opens them, I’m met with a heated stare.
“One more time,” he says. “With feeling.”
I repeat them, my spine straight and my words steady, more familiar now to my mind and mouth.
His blue eyes sparkle with his approval. “If, for any reason, you can’t speak, we’ll use nonverbal cues. Tap me twice with an open palm to slow down, and the same with a closed fist to sop. Try it now.” He cants his head in my direction.
My hand rises tentatively between us, and I tap twice in the middle of his hard chest.
“To stop?” he prompts.
