Page 104 of Blush

“Jack!”

I should have known it was Jack, of course. Anyone else and Roger would be shrieking.

“I’m sorry.” His gaze drops to my chest, barely covered by the corset I’m holding. “I smell chamomile.”

“Yeah. I’m having some tea.”

“Drop the corset, Mandy.”

“Jack, we’re not at the club. We’re—”

“I said, drop the corset.”

Without thinking, I obey, and the lacy garment lands on my rug with a soft plop. I’m standing topless, a chef’s knife in one hand, a cup of chamomile tea in the other.

“Put down the knife, Mandy.”

I obey again, setting it on the countertop. “I thought you were—”

“I know. I’m sorry I scared you.”

“Why didn’t you knock?”

“I thought you’d be in the shower or in bed.”

“Oh.”

It’s a reasonable explanation. He has a key for a reason. Same reason I have a key to his place.

And all the times I’ve been to his place, all the times I’ve gone over uninvited whether he was home or not, I never saw one piece of evidence of this lifestyle he enjoys.

He must only do it at the club.

I guess he doesn’t have one of those at-home dungeons like Christian Grey or Jonah Steel—two fictional Dominants.

He moves forward, cups my breasts as a soft groan vibrates from his throat.

“God…these tits.” He bends down then, takes a nipple between his teeth.

And I let out a shriek.

His lips are soft, soft but firm as he tugs on my nipple, and he slides his fingers over the other one.

Is this why he’s here? More sex?

He certainly didn’t come back for chamomile tea. Jack hates herbal tea.

He came back for me.

Maybe not specifically to suck my nipples—though I’m not complaining—but he came back for me.

“Jack, I—”

My phone buzzes.

“Ignore it,” he mumbles against my flesh.

“I can’t. It’s after midnight. If someone is calling, it must be important.”