Page 68 of Her Brother's Billionaire Best Friend

“I’m going to fuck you,” I said. “But don’t come yet, Lucien. Don’t you dare.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied, but from the way his green eyes lit up as I poised to take him inside of me, I could tell it would require all of his restraint not to empty himself into me, right there and then.

Slowly, I lowered myself onto his cock, gasping as he entered me. As I took Lucien fully inside of me, I rested my hands on his chest and began to grind, slowly and rhythmically, sighing as my nails scratched his chest.

Rocking back and forth, I ground on Lucien’s dick, until my insides were tingling with nervous energy. All the stress, all the tension of the day, seemed to fade away as I fucked him, straightening my shoulders and glancing up at the clear, cloudless dark, the pale moon above me and the stars scattered over a purple trail of cloud. I was like an animal, sating myself on him, and as the feeling of orgasm began to rise in me, I sped myself to climax with my hand, wanting to come for him, wanting to show him what he did to me. And as I did, his hands reached up above my dress and slipped around my waist while he guided me.

“Oh I’m gonna…I’m gonna…oh my…”

I saw stars and the world shook, as I felt the contractions build to a shuddering, wonderful spirit. “Come for me too,” I said, “come for me too.”

Lucien gripped me, and leaned up to kiss me, pumping inside of me as I felt myself soaking and throbbing with need on his dick. And that was when he came for me, crying out, tilting his head back, as I perched atop of him, his plaything, his mistress. The pair of us laughed and gasped with satisfaction, before we toppled into the grass and kissed, desperately and happily sated by the filthy, luscious sex we’d just had in his garden.

The last thing I remember was him carrying me up to his bedroom, as I lay weak and exhausted in his arms. He stripped my dress from me and kissed my bare shoulders, before slipping me into his pajamas and laying me down, where I dreamt of nothing but the stars, swept up above me, their light dimming towards the early morning.

*

It was morning—8 am, said my phone—but I was still here, as I’d promised. I turned and watched Lucien sleeping for a while.

Awake, Lucien’s face was lively and hard, all sharp lines and angular cheekbones. Chiseled and handsome.

Sometimes when he sat at his desk, he looked like he was carved out of stone. But here, in the yellow light of the morning, his face seemed gentle.

I reached out and touched it with my hand, and then drew closer and kissed his cheek.

Then, my eyes drifted to the table beside Lucien’s bed.

On the table, tangled in its cord, was the key.

Lucien had taken it off to sleep. This time, the key was in my grasp.

I angled my head and peered at the door in the corner. The secret room.

What was in there?

I no longer feared Lucien, or thought badly of him. I knew now that I needed him, that together we were like two halves of a whole. Somehow, when two lives like ours met, they filled each other’s spaces of unmet needs and past regrets.

But I couldn’t stop looking at the door.

What was behind it? Was it just another closet? Was it where he kept his safe, his money? Even though I’d read Lucien’s accounts, even though I knew his money was invested across the world, I’d never been able to quite shake the feeling that he must have stacks and stacks of dollar bills, like a bank vault in a movie.

But if I really thought there was money behind there, I wouldn’t have felt so desperate to look inside.

Any normal person would have known that it was wrong. That I should just ask Lucien when he woke up. That it was none of my goddamn business anyway, and I shouldn’t pry into the private things of a man who’d shown me such kindness. For a while, I tried to distract myself, thinking of the lanterns, the boat ride, the rose garden and the feeling of crazy, lovely wildness as I rolled with Lucien on the soft grass of his garden.

But I wasn’t normal. I’d spent the last ten years working as a reporter. And now I was determined to find out what was inside that damned room.

I slipped out of bed, still dressed in the enormous, oversized silk pajamas Lucien had given me last night. I rolled up the sleeves and crossed the room. Out of my shoes, my feet were silent on the wooden boards.

I came to the head of the bed and saw Lucien sleeping. It was wrong, I knew, but somehow the thrill of it made it worth it. As I passed by the body of my sleeping lover, I slipped the key into my hand.

I turned, as Lucien made a tiny noise and rolled over in bed. As he did, the covers slipped back and I looked at the long scar, shining white in the sunlight as it crossed his body. How did you get something like that, anyway? It wasn’t from a gun. No, it looked like Lucien had been cut? For a moment, I stood there, frozen by pity and wary to move. I was being a sneak and it made me feel guilty.

But at the same time, I had to know. Just a peek.

Just one peek. That was what I told myself.

I turned, and tip toed towards the door. I’d have to be extra quiet. Lucien didn’t sleep a lot anyway, and I was almost certain that if I turned the handle too quickly or banged anything, he’d wake up.