Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 119694 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119694 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
This isn’t a sitting room. It’s a dungeon.
Not the kind I was in a few hours ago with dripping stone walls and a monster made of smoke and slime prowling through it—no, this is a sex dungeon.
Chains dangle from the ceiling like glittering snakes. Against one wall stands a heavy wooden post with iron rings—clearly a whipping post. Nearby, a padded bench sits low and angled, its surface polished with use. My stomach flips. A spanking bench. I’m sure it must be. We read plenty of BDSM in Book Club. Even if I’ve never been to a real sex dungeon, I know what I’m looking at.
The far wall gleams with “instruments of pain and pleasure” as one book I read put it. Floggers hang like trophies…canes lean in tidy rows…there’s even a heavy wooden hairbrush, all waiting like soldiers ready for deployment.
I look further and see an open cabinet which reveals cuffs, collars, and thin, smooth ropes coiled like serpents. I also see gleaming hooks I can’t even begin to guess at…and a selection of plugs I don’t have to guess about.
I’m about to go—I’ve had enough of this—when my eyes snag on the thing suspended from the ceiling.
The harness. It has to be.
It’s not quite a swing and not quite a rack but rather something in between. It’s a collection of straps designed to cradle breasts, spread thighs wide, and hold someone open and helpless. There are thick metal buckles to keep the leather straps in place.
My breath stutters in my chest—I can’t stop looking at it.
And of course, my brain supplies the visual—Lucian’s massive body, stripped to the waist and looming over me…his big hands fastening the buckles…his mouth closing over my nipple while the straps spread me wide. His dark head lowering between my thighs as I hang there, helpless and shuddering…
Heat explodes through me so fast I sway on my feet. Oh God, to actually live through some of the things I’ve only read about! To have a sex adventure that would put the smuttiest book I’ve read to shame…What would it be like?
Suddenly I realize what I’m thinking and I jerk myself back—mentally and physically too, because I was reaching for the harness. I just wanted to touch it—just once.
But I pull my hand way like it’s hot and might burn me.
“No. Nope. Absolutely not. Don’t you dare go there, Jules,” I lecture myself in a low voice.
But my cheeks are on fire and my thighs pressed together. My body is a complete traitor—I’m as bad as any of the heroines I’ve read in so many smutty books. I’m scared to death, but my nipples are tight and I’m wet between my legs which is wrong—so wrong.
I have a realization—I’ve got to get out of here. If Lucian catches me exploring his sex dungeon, it won’t end well for me.
I yank the hood of my cloak low and slip out, my heart hammering.
If I had been only halfway considering escape before, seeing the harness and all the other BDSM accoutrements seals the deal. Whatever kinky plan Lucian has in mind, I’m not sticking around to find out.
I move faster now, slipping down staircases, through halls lined with marble busts and velvet curtains. The deeper I go, the colder it gets. It’s like the Crimson Spires has a furnace at its heart and I’m getting further and further away from it.
At last, I see them—the front doors. Massive wrought iron panels carved with roses and thorns, and of course, Chalices, loom before me like the gates of Hell itself.
Naturally two guards are standing sentinel. My heart skitters in my chest. Perfect—just perfect.
They’re tall and broad—armored in crimson and black, with swords gleaming at their sides and those magic-looking machine guns slung over their shoulders. In other words, armed to the teeth. Quite literally since I’m pretty sure they are vampires like Lucian which means they have fangs.
I study them carefully from my hiding place near the bottom of the staircase. One has long silver hair and the other has a jagged scar cutting down his jaw. Both straighten as I step out of the shadows and approach. They stare at me, their eyes narrowing.
“Stop,” Silver Hair commands. “No one leaves tonight on the Don’s order.”
My heart bangs against my ribs. Okay, I did drama in college but that was over ten years ago. Time to see if I’ve still got it.
“It’s on the Don’s orders that I’m leaving,” I say coolly.
He frowns.
“You’re lying! He would have sent down to tell us.”
Okay, be calm. This isn’t over yet, I tell myself.
I raise myself to my full height and look at the guard who challenged me imperiously. Slowly, I pull the signet ring from my cloak pocket and hold it up. The gold gleams in the torchlight.
“Do you see this?” My voice sounds steadier than I feel. “I am Lucian’s Curvy Queen. I bear his signet. And you dare to question me?”