Exposed: Laid Bare (4 page)

“What about my boots?” I asked as the dress fell to the floor.

“Leave them,” he said.

He then removed what remained of his clothing and knelt down on the floor in front of the sofa. I was still sitting up from when he’d taken off my dress, and he put his hand on my shoulder and urged me back.

My bare skin pressed into the supple leather. It all felt so hot and decadent, so I spread my legs and wrapped them around Lucien’s narrow hips.

Smiling in a knowing way, he fitted himself to me… And then, he was inside of me, sheathed to the hilt.

Strangely, I felt not an ounce of pain. Lucien had apparently kept his word. There was nothing but pleasure. And when he moved, ecstasy overcame me.

I was no expert in sex, only knowing what I’d read and what Veronica had told me, but I knew this was different. Better. Lucien’s cock was like an instrument, and he played it unbelievably well.

Drawing my hips up, he thrust in and out of me with abandon, and within minutes, I reached the apex.

I felt him swell within me. He grew even harder. He wanted more, and I wanted more.

Lucien withdrew and pulled me down to the floor with him. He turned me around, bent me over the sofa, and had me like that. I felt my knees graze on what I was sure was an authentic Persian rug, but there was no pain.

Lucien wrapped his hand in my hair as he continued to fuck me. He was untiring, but so was I. I wanted more; I’d become as insatiable as he. We fucked on the floor, and we fucked on his desk. He had me up against the wall, and in his huge desk chair. The boots came off at some point and he made me lick up the leather sides while I kneeled at his feet, boots dangling from his hand. I was commanded to lick him, and I obliged, savoring every inch of him before I took him fully in my mouth.

As the night wore on, time became lost. I discovered I wasn’t me. I was a body made for sex. I was pulled, pushed, bit, tasted, and filled in every way,
every
way. Not even
that
hurt. I just looked into Lucien’s eyes before he turned me around, and then all I felt as he pushed into another previously untouched place was indescribable pleasure.

When everything was over, I lay curled up on the floor. Lucien was nestled behind me. When my body came back down to Earth, I felt his touch everywhere. I tasted him in my mouth, my skin felt seared with him, and my body was filled with him. I was high on Lucien Chambers, and every part of me tingled in the aftermath of too many orgasms to count and too much of him.

“You’re not an ordinary man, are you?” I mumbled weakly.

Lucien pulled me closer to him and kissed the top of my head. “No, Miss Vaughn, I am not an ordinary man.”

Nestled in his arms, I felt so soothed and comforted. It was like I had come home. Still, I had many more questions. However, I was unable to articulate a single one.

Empty of myself, yet filled with the essence of Lucien, I fell asleep.

I
woke with my cheek pressed to new carpeting. As I inhaled the scent of fresh glue and fibers, I knew I was no longer at Lucien’s house. I’d been returned to my apartment with the recently redone floors.

Rolling onto my back, I thought about the night before. The last memory I had was of Lucien confirming that he was no ordinary man. Then, I had dozed off.

“What is he?” I questioned as I stared up at the ceiling.

Suddenly, with those words uttered and out there, all my senses came back to me, and, dear God, I felt everything.

Letting out a litany of, “Ouch-ouch-ouch,” I rolled to my side and curled up in a fetal position.

Every part of me hurt like hell. The silky fabric of the green wrap dress, which had been placed back on me, rubbed at my sore nipples. My legs ached, and my rug-burned back and knees were on fire.

But the worst pain by far was between my legs.

Lucien Chambers had definitely
had
me in every way possible, and I was feeling all the sexual fury he’d unleashed on me in all my secret places. Even so, beyond the discomfort, I felt myself grow wet.

How could that be
? I wondered.

But sure enough, the mere thought of Lucien and the things we’d done made me wild with lust. Aroused, I trailed my hands down my body and untied my dress. I wanted to be naked, and soon I was.

As I writhed wantonly on the carpeting, I wished Lucien were here to give me more of what I’d had last night. Reaching between my legs, I spread the growing dampness with my fingers. I touched myself gently, at first, but that was not enough. I rubbed more vigorously, almost to the point of passing-out painful, sensitive as I was. Memories of the prior night fueled my actions, though, and moaning for the man who’d unleashed this wild side of me, I brought myself to orgasm.

With a final shudder of release, I whispered his name, “Lucien.”

I didn’t know what he was or what he had done to me. But there was one thing I was sure of—I wanted more.

A
fter a long, hot shower, I wrapped a thick chenille robe around my body. Relaxed, for now, I made a cup of coffee and decided to download the photographs I’d taken of Lucien to my computer. As I was attaching the cable from the camera to the computer at my desk, my cell phone rang.

Glancing down, I saw it was Veronica calling.

“Shit.” I bumped my cup as I picked up the phone, and liquid spilled onto the desk surface. Quickly, I mopped up the mess with the sleeve of my robe.

When I finally placed the phone back to my ear, I could hear Veronica saying, “Dahlia, are you there? What’s going on?”

“Hey, I’m here,” I replied as I settled back in my seat. “I just spilled a little coffee. Everything is fine.”

“Fine, really?” Veronica scoffed. “Where have you been? I called you a dozen times last night.” She sighed. “Didn’t you get any of my messages, Dahlia? How’d it go with Lucien? Damn, did you even come home last night?”

I swiveled in the desk chair, pondering how much I should tell Veronica.

“Dahlia,” Veronica said slowly, “are you there?”

“Yes, yes,” I replied. “I’m here.”

“What’s wrong with you?” she asked, but before I had a chance to reply, she burst out with an exuberant, “Oh, my God, you
didn’t
come home last night, did you?”

“Uh…”

“Holy shit, I can’t believe it.” Veronica sounded stunned. Excitedly stunned, but stunned nonetheless. “Did you lose your virginity to Lucien-fucking-Chambers?”

“Um…”

“You were with him, I know it,” she declared. “I hear it in your voice, Dahl. Something is different with you.”

Ha, understatement of the year. Something sure was different with me. I’d gone from a virginal, scared young woman to a lustful, horny-ass vixen. All thanks to Lucien and whatever crazy powers he had over me.

Clearing my throat, I admitted the truth to my cousin. Not all of it, of course, but I did tell her, “Yes, Veronica, it’s true. Lucien Chambers took my v-card.”

“I knew it!” she exclaimed. “Damn, it must’ve been good, too. You sound more relaxed than I’ve ever heard you.”

Was I ever! But I also had a concern, a concern for my heart. “I feel so strongly about him now, Veronica. Is this what love feels like?”

“Hardly,” she scoffed. “But I’d say you’re definitely in lust.”

“Yeah…” I trailed off. I couldn’t argue that one.

Veronica cleared her throat and whispered, “Did it hurt a lot? Are you feeling okay today? I hope he was gentle with you.”

Not exactly
, I thought. To my cousin, though, I said, “It didn’t hurt at all last night. I felt great, but today”—I blew out a breath—“I’m feeling everything.”

I winced at the reminder of my many sore spots.

“What do you mean it didn’t hurt last night?” Veronica asked, confused. “My first time was agonizing.”

“Umm…”

This was my chance to come clean. Maybe Veronica could help me figure out what Lucien was. But it felt so silly now to think he was anything more than a man. He was probably just a very skilled man, right?

Still, how could just peering into his eyes have made me feel so giddy, so drunk on lust? And how was he able to lessen the pain of losing my virginity? He had taken me so many times, in so many ways, but nothing he’d done to me had hurt. Well, at least, not at the time. Last night, everything was pure pleasure.

“Dahlia, are you still there?” Veronica prompted when I grew silent.

“I’m here, I’m here,” I said, and after a pause, I asked, “Hey, can you do a favor for me?”

“Sure, honey,” she replied.

“Can you do a little research on Lucien? I couldn’t come up with much before the shoot, but you’re much more of a pro at digging and finding out the good stuff.”

“Of course,” Veronica said. Then, after a beat, she added softly, “You like him now, don’t you?”

It was true. I liked Lucien—a lot.

“Yeah, I kind of do like him,” I quietly admitted.

I felt a new pain with my admission, a pain in my heart. Was Lucien doing this to me, too? Making me yearn for him?

But Veronica had an alternative explanation: “He’s your first, Dahl. Those strong feelings are to be expected.”

“I suppose,” I murmured. Still, I knew what I was feeling was something more.

Before we disconnected, I reminded Veronica, “Call me if you come up with something on Lucien. Anything at all, okay?”

I wanted the dirt, and my cousin was good at uncovering exactly that.

“Sure,” she replied. “And don’t worry, Dahlia. If he has any skeletons, I’ll find them.”

On that note, we ended the call.

T
en minutes later, I was still at the desk. My eyes were glued to the computer screen and the image that was on it.

“No fucking way,” I murmured as I stared and stared. Disbelief at what I was seeing was my primary feeling.

Twenty minutes later, I’d still not moved.

Thirty minutes—the same.

All due to what was on the screen before me.

So what was so compelling?

There was one picture filling the screen, a picture from the night before, a picture of Lucien. It was the final photo I had taken of him, when he had stood before me with his dark eyes betraying that he was
something else
.

I’d already scanned through the photos he’d taken of me afterward, the many sexual shots on the red leather sofa. Those images had not bothered me one bit. Peering at them had made me think of Lucien and the things he’d done to me. Smiling, I had moved those photos to a folder marked “Private.”

And then I’d come across this picture, the one I could not turn away from. All of the other photos of Lucien had turned out incredible. I had printed a bunch with the intention of choosing the best shots for the magazine spread. Then, at one point, I’d come across this single image of Lucien—a close-up of his face—and that is what now held me captive.

In the picture, Lucien appeared as perfect as always—dark and sultry eyes, great bone structure, full lips curved up in a knowing grin. But there was something different, something in his eyes. It was the same something I’d glimpsed briefly last night, that moment after I’d looked through the lens and asked him about the color of his eyes.

The moment I saw the real him
.