Chapter 25

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

LAYLA

"Shut the fuck up!" Jorge exclaims. "He did not say that!"

I reach over Jorge for the bottle of Chardonnay, sitting on the fire escape beside him, to refill my near-empty glass. "He might as well have said he planned to ruin me for all other men."

"And did he?" Jorge's eyes widen, and a coy smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth.

"You mean?" I glance down at my crotch. It's been a day and a half, and Tristan definitely wasn't lying. I am still acutely aware of how we spent yesterday morning. While there is a tinge of discomfort from how hard he took me, it's the ache for more that concerns me.

"Your pussy?" Jorge shakes his head. "Sweetie, it's obvious he's completely destroyed that thing. I just meant men."

I merely stare back at Jorge, unsure how to respond to him. Not knowing how to answer a question I haven't yet asked myself .

"You like him, don't you?" he presses.

"I barely know him," I denounce the idea as I shake my head. "It's been, what, a week? A couple of dates and a few rounds of sex?"

It's crazy.

We're just having fun.

The mind-blowing sex is why I can't stop thinking about him.

Right?

Jorge tips his head and cocks a brow like a fucking puppy, as though he can currently read the thoughts running through my head.

"Are you going to ask him?" Jorge inquires, abruptly changing the conversation.

"You mean to teach me?"

"Yeah." His answer is short. "I saw the books and all your notes scattered on the coffee table. The way you talk about being with him… One, it makes me swoon…and jealous as hell. But you're obviously into it. I have never heard you talk about a guy like this before."

"Yeah, but?—"

"Yeah, but nothing." Jorge cuts me off. "Who better to teach you than a man who literally owns sex clubs full of people who live this lifestyle? He obviously knows the ins and outs; and you already know he's not just some creep pretending to be into it so he can do weird as fuck, borderline-abusive shit to you."

He's not wrong.

I take a tiny sip of Chardonnay as I mull over his very logical take on the situation.

"Plus, he fucks like a god and…" He cocks a cheeky eyebrow as he gestures penis length. Lightly gripping his wrists, I spread his hands a little wider before standing from my cushion on the fire escape to climb inside.

"So, seriously," Jorge calls out, clamoring in the window behind me. "These brothers. There's how many of them?"

My conversation with Jorge has been weighing heavily on me since he left earlier. It's well after midnight; probably too late to be sending Tristan a text. But if I don't send it now, while I'm fueled with liquid courage, I don't know if I ever will.

Can we talk?

Sending the text and not expecting a response any time soon, I place my phone on the nightstand and throw back the covers to slide into bed. Tristan's name glows across the screen.

Before I have a chance to say a word, he hastily asks, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine." My words carry a slight slur. "My pussy is sore as hell."

"Lay—"

"But I like it," I giggle as I interrupt him .

"Have you been drinking, darling?" His tone is soft but carries a tinge of disapproval.

"A little," I lie horribly. Taking a deep breath, I word vomit before I have a chance to lose my nerves. "I've read so much. Well beyond what you've given me. I want to know more…to learn…but with someone I trust. With you. I want to learn more with you."

"We can talk about this tomorrow. When you're sober," he responds. "We can meet in the morning. The club, my office at eleven."

"Fine."

Why does this feel like a business meeting?

"I'd happily agree to take you as my submissive this minute," he shares. " We're waiting for you. I want you to have your full wits about you when you agree to my demands."

"Your demands?" I mock him with a poor attempt at imitating his accent.

"Yes, darling. My demands." Tristan's voice is full of condescension. "Teaching you. Training you how to be a good submissive is not something I will take lightly. It's not something you should either."

"And if I do? Are you going to punish me with more orgasms again?" I brat.

"That's the last thing I'd be giving you right now." He lets out a dark chuckle, and I can practically see the devilish smile spreading across his face. "I don't like my submissives inebriated. And at the rate you're continuing to test me this evening, you'd be finding yourself getting a very different correction."

"Are you going to spank me?" I tease.

"I'm tempted to get in my car to show you. But you won't like what happens when I get there."

I can't help myself. "And why is that tough guy?"

"Because I'm going to tear off your clothes and throw you on the bed"— this doesn't sound that bad— "and firmly lick over your clit. Sucking you into my mouth, demanding that you come for me."

Not bad at all.

"The moment you're on the edge, I'm going to stop."

Wait…what?

"I'll bring you to the brink over and over on my tongue, my fingers, and my cock. Not once letting you come as I continue to deny you while I use that tight little cunt of yours until I'm dripping from you. And when I've had my fill, I'll tie those perfectly manicured hands of yours to the bed to prevent you from tending to the needy ache between your legs." He takes a dramatic pause, allowing me the opportunity to relish in his threat. "Now tell me, are you going to go to bed like a good little girl, or do I need to grab my car keys?"

"Bed," I gulp, not willing to actually test him.

"Good night, darling."