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“Are you ready?” It’s a question and a demand. Everything about him screams demand. Everything except the meaning of his words. His tone belies a hint of uncertainty. Even though he’s paying me an obscene amount of money, if I say no, he will acquiesce.

He’s the billionaire. But I have the power. For now. In this moment.

Outside of these walls, he’d never look my way. And the kind of men I go for, well, they’re nothing like him. But none of those men looked at me quite the way Jack is looking at me in this moment.

Lust fogs my thought processes. It must be the dim hall light skewing my sight and reality.

Because I yearn to touch him. To run my fingers through his unruly strands and trace his firm chest. To feel him, filling me, pulsing inside me.

I have always loved sex. But I haven’t craved it, not like this. Not in a very long time.

“Ava?” There’s a question again.

“Yes.” My unwavering answer leaves no room for questions.

“Down the hall, to the right.” This time, the words are a demand.

I pass him in the hall, inches of space between us, triggering an energetic pulse. Without touching, I feel him. My breath quickens, my pulse races, and a touch of dizziness impacts me.

“You have the most gorgeous eyes.”

My eyes are freakishly large. But if he wants to keep going on with that line, I’ll let him get away with it.

I am the first one to reach the door, and I twist the knob. It’s unlocked.

“You aren’t afraid of Sophia wandering in here?”

“After Sophia went to bed, I prepared it.”

The door opens, and half a dozen candles flicker.

Against the backdrop of velvet walls and leather adornments, the warmth of fire engenders erotic passion.

I turn to tease him for doing something borderline romantic, but he presses me up against the wall and his tongue plunders my mouth.

He shoves his thigh between my legs, and his hard erection presses into my stomach.

Rough hands comb my body, grabbing at clothes.

He tastes of sugary sweet bourbon, and I kiss him back like I’m starved, craving the forbidden liquor.

Buttons snap. My clothes hit the floor. His teeth graze my nipple.

I reach into his boxers, and my fingers wrap around his length, rewarding me with his uncontrolled groan.

He flips me around.

“Hands on the wall.”

I obey, but as if he doesn’t trust me, his palms cover the back of my hands, ensuring secure placement.

“Keep them here,” he insists.

Rough, warm skin presses along my ribs, over my hip bones, and lower. One finger finds my slit, and it’s my turn to groan. But it’s only for a second. His palm flattens against my spine, directing me to bend.

His soft tip presses between my ass cheeks, then farther down until he’s rubbing my entrance. With one thrust, he fills me. He pauses, and I suck in air.

It feels good. He feels good. And then he thrusts, over and over, pounding into me.

A claiming, a possession. All I can do is moan and gasp and grip the wall for purchase as my leg muscles quiver and my knees weaken.

He slows and reaches for something, still inside me, slowly rocking into me.

There’s a whirring sound, and the next thing I know, a heated metal vibrating object cups my mound and his hips slow.

The warmth and the vibration under the glow of candles lifts me to a surreal place. Sensations overwhelm my body.

“So good,” is all I can get out as I writhe, squeezing my thighs, groaning and moaning. I pull my hand, wanting to twist my nipple, but they’re locked in place under his one hand. All I can do is close my eyes and revel in the whirlwind of sensations.

His thrusts pick up speed. With each drive, his skin slaps mine. I stretch, pushing my weight into my hands, pressing against the wall, pushing my ass back, meeting him thrust for thrust. He hits me deep, in just the right spot.

“Yes.” I am not entirely positive if the word leaves my mouth, or maybe I chant it.

My legs tremble and my muscles tighten. My toes curl.

The slow building frisson of energy rips through me, unleashing a powerful mind-altering orgasm.

My head falls forward as I come to, bearing witness to the pulse within me.

The vibrating device clatters to the floor, and his head falls to my shoulder.

He presses his lips to my back, and his hand cups my breast. The unexpectedly intimate sensation has me pushing up, but I hit his chest. His arm wraps around me, squeezes once, then he pulls out.

“I’ll get a warm washcloth to clean you up.”

That’s when it hits me. He didn’t use a condom.

“I guess you got the results back?”

He nods as he steps away and opens a cabinet door. The sound of running water replaces the thrum of my pounding blood reverberating in my ears.

Apparently, the rich have doctors who make house calls. His arrived, and Fisher delivered her to my office. I assumed she also tested Jack, although I hadn’t asked.

“That was quick.” I lift my skirt and tank off the floor and search for my panties.

He steps forward, holding out a black washcloth, and I reach for it, but he brushes past my hand and places the warm, wet cloth between my legs with an unexpected gentleness. His tenderness touches me more than it should, and the second he pulls away, I slip my tank top on and step into my skirt.

I wonder if he designed this room, or if his ex-wife did.

But, then again, his wife never lived in this house.

After Sophia’s abduction, publications republished photos of him at his wife’s funeral.

I don’t remember everything from those articles.

I mostly skimmed them, but I still remember the photograph of Jack standing beside Sophia near a grave.

He washes his hands at the sink as I pull my panties on.

“Did you design this room?”

He smiles. It’s a subtle smile. A borderline smirk. Entertained more than smug.

“I hired a designer. Different than the one I sent Sophia to. She specializes in rooms like this. Told her what I wanted. She did her thing. Equipped it with what she called the luxe package.”

I think about the style of the furniture upstairs and even in the kitchen. He apparently didn’t bother to touch that, but yet he prioritized a sex dungeon of sorts.

“Do you use this room a lot?”

“Don’t worry. All the toys in here are new.”

That’s not where I was going. “Did you go shopping?” It’s difficult to imagine this businessman entering a sex store, but I guess they do it all the time. Or online. He can buy anything online.

“I have a house manager. She takes care of everything. Like making sure this room is cleaned with complete discretion. Re-stocking.”

“A house manager. How have I not met her yet?”

“She’s good at her job and stays out of the way. She keeps everything running.”

“And she knows about this room.” I say it more to myself than to him. It’s all so bizarre to me.

“I don’t like to bring women into my bedroom. To answer your original question, since Sophia has moved in, no, I don’t have women over often. None at all since…” His words trail, but I guess he means since her abduction. The event altered his universe.

One by one, he blows out the candles and opens the door.

“Thank you.”

I almost miss his hushed remark. I stop in the hall as he closes the door. The lock clicks, and he double-checks the lock. Satisfied, he turns and heads down the hall, leaving me standing there, awash in a variety of emotions I do not wish to define.