Page 111 of Jordan

“If it was for a legitimate reason, like you feeling as if it’s halting you from moving forward in our marriage and not just an excuse to dictate what I do, then yes. No more sex. But—” he says, smirking. “I will require sex from someone.”

He said someone, but I know he means me. My cheeks heat. God, Jordan, can you be any more obvious?

“That’s it?”

“Jordan, what you saw of me in the club wasn’t only because I was at the club. That lifestyle is one I enjoy regularly. Sex itself is satisfying in a physical way, but the power aspect of it fulfills me in other ways. Ways I find relaxing and calming and detrimental to my overall mental state.”

I shake my head. “Enzo, there is no way I could survive that much sex every night,” I whisper.

He huffs out a laugh. “And I wouldn’t expect you to. Let me ask you this: How did you feel when you went home after the club?”

“Sore,” I answer quickly. It’s the first thing that comes to my mind.

“Had you stayed with me, I’d have taken care of that.” There go my cheeks heating again. I want to ask him how, want him to tell me what he’d have done, but this is not the time or place for that. “But other than that, how did you feel?”

I’ve thought about it so many times already. I already know the answer. “Good,” I say. “I—even though my body was sore, it felt good. Relaxed. My mind was clear.”

He nods. “And that’s why I enjoy it.”

“That’s what Rafael gives you?”

“With him, it’s the only kind of sex we have. Power exchange. He’s a submissive and I’m a dominant. And you, my sweet, sweet angel, are the sexiest brat I have ever laid eyes on.”

My lips part as I stare into his dark, mischievous eyes. My heart picks up and I’m suddenly panting for no good reason.

“I don’t know what that means,” I whisper.

The corner of his lips turn up into a smile and he leans back. “I’d love to teach you exactly what it means.”

Chapter Forty-Seven

Jordan

Enzo closes the door to my bedroom, and his eyes meet mine.

“Do you remember the rules from the club?”

I nod.

“Repeat them.”

“No swearing. Answer you when you ask me a question.”

“Good girl,” he says, taking a step closer to me. His large hand lands on my hip, heating my skin. He walks around me, his hand sliding along my waist as he goes. He moves to my bed and sits on the edge. “If I told you doing everything I tell you would result in me eating your pussy until you come, would you want to obey me?”

I nod, watching him from the corner of my eye, but don’t move.

“And if I told you disobeying me would result in a punishment—such as a spanking—would you still be so willing to obey me?”

I shake my head, sinking my teeth into my bottom lip.

He pats his thigh, and I move to him and sit. His hands slide down the outsides of my thighs. His right hand moves back up, over my stomach and between my breasts, resting at my throat.

“Your urge to disobey me to be put in your place is what makes you a brat. You want to know I will punish you for doing wrong, but only because it’s a punishment you enjoy. You want to push my buttons because you get pleasure from the result. This requires us to trust one another, Jordan. A lot of trust. Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

The wine is swimming through my veins, but I think I’m too honest for my own good when I’m intoxicated.