I am sitting cross-legged in the middle of the basement on the platform, which turns out to be a mattress on a solid platform, taking everything in. For the past week, curiosity has driven me down here each evening after work to try to work out what makes Alex tick. My Google history would make even the worldliest person blush, and my Amazon purchase history would rival that of a psychologist. I think I am starting to understand Alex's world a little better, and now that I have explored his dungeon further with fresh eyes, I can understand the purpose of most of the equipment lining the walls. I feel like I have become a walking, talking BDSM encyclopaedia, despite not having really experienced any of it for myself. Weirdly, my dreams have been growing darker and darker each night and twice now I have woken up from climaxing in my sleep. Never before has my little battery-operated boyfriend—or Bob, as I affectionately call it—had quite so much use.Alex is due back tomorrow and I know
A week has passed since our night in Alex's dungeon and I have not laid eyes on him during that time. That's not to say we haven't communicated; I have had plenty of emails, text messages and even bunches of flowers. Yet every night I fall asleep alone in my own bed, and wake up alone, the only sign that Alex has even been home being the dent in the pillow next to mine and the smell of him on my sheets. I am so frustrated I want to scream.I am pottering around in the kitchen after a long day at work, making myself a cup of tea, when I hear the front door slam so hard I swear the hinges rattled. I make my way through to the entrance hall and look around, wondering what the hell is going on. I spy Alex's coat flung on the rack, and I cast my eye around looking for clues. I hear more thuds and, as I spot the open door to the basement, a ginormous crash. I am apprehensive now. This is completely at odds with Alex's normal calm and collected behaviour, so I creep down the stairs as quietl
I claw my way out of the blackness to find that I am lying on my front, in a bed. Instantly I know that I am not in my bed by the scents that tease my senses; I am in Alex's gigantic bed. The coolness around me tells me that I am alone and I spend a moment mentally checking on my body. My bottom smarts, but I know nothing is broken so I crack open an eyelid. I cast my eyes around the room, using the moonlight filtering through the curtains to guide them until they come to rest on Alex, sitting across from me in an armchair. His trousers are rumpled and he has stripped off the shirt he was wearing earlier, leaving him in only a white singlet. He is watching me intently, a look of abject sadness on his face."Hey," I whisper. "Are you okay?""She asks if I am okay…" Alex mutters as if he is talking to someone. "What the hell?""Alex, seriously, are you okay?" I repeat, wincing as I roll over onto my back and sit up. In an instant, Alex is by my side, trying to support me. I bat his hand
Daylight streams through the cracks in the curtains, waking me from my deep sleep. I shift and can feel the stiffness radiating through my body. Somehow in my post-orgasmic bliss, I managed to forget about my bruised arse, but as I roll over, I let out a small yelp."Liv?" I turn my head to find Alex regarding me with sleep-filled eyes."Sore arse," I murmur."Roll on your front," Alex commands, and I comply immediately. He slips the duvet down to reveal my bottom lined with red marks and faint bruising. "Fuck, Liv, you have no idea how horny it makes me seeing you like this." He runs a light hand over my sensitive cheeks. "Oh, baby," he says in a worshipful whisper. With gentle hands, he moves my knees, pushing them underneath me so that my arse is in the air and I am balancing on my elbows. Before I can think about what he is doing, Alex starts by laying a trail of light kisses all over my skin. I shiver, the sensation sublime, as my body responds to the gentlest of caresses. The ki
We are sitting in Bluebird on the King's Road, just around the corner from the house. Breakfast has been ordered and I am sipping on a cup of tea gratefully, having never actually gotten around to drinking the one Alex brought me in the bath. Away from the house and Alex's 'distractions', my head is bursting with questions. I think it is the researcher part of me that means I am never fully satisfied until I have covered all my bases.Alex sits back, appraising me. "Talk to me, Liv. What's going through that mind of yours? I can see the cogs turning."I stare at the table, picking at the serviette, knowing that I might be opening a whole can of worms that I shouldn't. I take a deep breath. "Alex, what happens now? I mean, you have subs, don't you? I guess what I'm trying to say is, where the hell do I fit in this?""Look at me, Liv," Alex instructs, and I tear my eyes off the table. "Okay, firstly I don't really have a sub." My eyebrows raise but leave him to continue. "What I mean is
I lean my head against the cold window of the train carriage and sigh. I am exhausted. It has been two days since I got the call from Charles that interrupted my brunch with Alex and I was forced to cut our day short. Charles had received a call about one of the most challenging books we have been trying to trace. A private collector in France was offering it up for purchase and so, of course, Charles expected me to go at the drop of a hat, even though I was supposedly 'sick'.So here I am, after an excruciating forty-eight hours, returning empty-handed to a furious Charles. It's not my fault that the manuscript was a fake, a very good one at that, which is why it took me ages to verify, but that doesn't stop Charles from behaving like a brat when things don't go his way. It didn't help either that the owner of the document was indignant when I told him that it was a forgery and threw me out of his house, calling me a liar and a charlatan. At least that's what I understood from my sch
Before I know it, we are pulling outside a small black storefront and I look up to see 'Agent Provocateur' written in a gorgeous pink script. Lingerie. Okay, I can do this. I take Alex's hand as he leads me into the shop and I am astonished when the assistant walks over and greets him by name. Clearly, he has been here before. A streak of jealousy runs through me as I think about all the other girls he may have been buying underwear for and I don’t even realise that I am scowling until Alex chuckles next to me. "Liv, I can read you like a book. There is nothing to be jealous about. I was in here yesterday organising this for you," Alex whispers into my ear, and I immediately feel myself relax.The assistant now introduces herself to me as Tammy and requests that I go on through to the dressing room. I follow her through the store, eying up the beautiful confections of lace lining the walls, sure that my expression probably speaks a thousand words, as she leads me into what feels like
I am hot and sweaty, the beat of the music an additional heartbeat thumping through my body. I can feel Alex grinding into my arse behind me to the sexy Latin beats, his hands holding on to my hips firmly, as I lean into his body. We are in Floridita, a Latin American-inspired restaurant with live music in the heart of London's Soho, and for the first time in my life, I don't feel completely awkward in a club like this. It is so far from my usual scene—aka staying at home and reading a book—that usually the idea of getting dressed up and going clubbing like a twenty-year-old would fill me with dread. But instead tonight I feel a little like Cinderella, transported into an alternate universe.When I woke up from my nap earlier to find myself still cradled in Alex's arms, it felt like I had slept for hours despite it only being around thirty minutes. I felt completely renewed, so when Alex suggested going out I agreed without hesitation. "I want to take you out dancing," he had said, an