Page 102 of Blush

What I do may be as foreign to him as what he does is to me. He works for Ben Black at Black Inc., and his specialty is marketing. I couldn’t market my way out of a paper bag, which is why Lily hires someone else to market her books.

But I read a lot of sex, and though Lily doesn’t write BDSM specifically, I’ve read many BDSM sex scenes. Part of my job is to stay on top of the genre and let Lily know what trends are coming and going.

The BDSM trend? It’s always coming.

“We’re done for tonight, Mandy.”

I try not to let my disappointment show. “Whatever you say, sir.”

He kisses my forehead, like he always does.

So that’s it? We’re back to being BFFs? I’m standing here naked, his pants are undone, he just had his dick inside me, and we’re BFFs again?

Fine. I’ll play this game. I’ll go at his pace. It’s probably best anyway, since I’m so inexperienced.

But that doesn’t mean I can’t take a class at Treasure’s Chest.

Then I remember. Mary.

She’s here. She’s here at Black Rose Underground.

I’ll go see her tomorrow. I have no idea if she recognized me. I’ll go in and sign up for the class. I’ll suck it up and deal with her, even though she’s been intimate with the man I love.

Jackson snaps up his jeans and hands me my clothes, including the corset. Because I never took it off after I left the shop, I’m not sure how to lace it up myself. Mary said I’d be able to do it with practice, but I’ve essentially had no practice. Do I dare ask Jack for help?

After donning my jeans and pumps, I wiggle into the corset, snap the closures, and take hold of the laces.

Jack walks to me, closes his hands over mine, and takes the laces. “Let me,” he says gruffly.

I nod.

He tightens the laces gently, almost too gently.

“Jack, you can—”

He meets my gaze sternly. “Quiet.”

I obey him. We’re still in the club, after all.

He continues gently, inch by inch. Is he waiting for me to tell him when? Maybe he is. But he’s going to have to speak first.

Finally he stops and ties the laces.

It’s not nearly as tight as Mary secured it this afternoon, but I stay silent. After all, he did tell me to be quiet, and we’re still in his place.

“There,” he says.

I nod.

“Ready?”

I nod again, pick up my white sweater, and put it on around the corset.

“Come on, then.” He takes my hand—his is so warm and big—and leads me out of the room, down the hallway, and back into the main area of the club.

It’s happening now. The club is much more crowded than when we got here. Apparently these clubbers like to start late.

So much I don’t know. Sure, I read the scenes in romance novels, but they don’t depict the clubs. Not usually, anyway. It’s usually a bedroom. Or an at-home dungeon.