“Is it weird that I’m craving it? The hunt. The moment he catches me. That edge between danger and surrender. I want to find out what he’ll do when I fight—and he takes me anyway.”
She laughs. “Damn, Laurette. You’ve always flirted with danger. Now danger’s flirting back.”
I let out a breath—half-laugh, half-confession. “Tell me that doesn’t make me insane.”
Brielle waves it off. “Not crazy. Alive. Honest. And fuck, I’m a little jealous.”
Brielle—jealous of me?
She’s always been the wild one. The first to chase a thrill, the last to regret it.
I’ve heard her stories and seen the marks. I never once imagined her envying anyone else’s sex life. Especially not mine.
My relationship with Jon David was nothing to envy.
She leans in, eyes wide. “Sounds like you’ve met someone who speaks your language. Dark. Dangerous. Decadent.”
Dark. Dangerous. Decadent.
I like that.
“You spend your life dismantling people in court. Now someone’s dismantling you.”
I meet her eyes, steady. “He told me he’d never harm me. That he’d break me in all the ways I secretly want. And I’d love it.”
She arches a brow. “The man’s not subtle. He’s savage.”
I shake my head. “Subtle never got me wet. But this has me aching in places I didn’t know could throb.”
She laughs. “Face it. You’re already his.”
I lean back and exhale. The wine hums in my blood, and the warmth clings to my skin. Somewhere between fear and arousal, something cracks open.
Brielle reaches over and touches my arm. “You’re ready. Don’t fear it.”
Danger is whispering my name.
And I want to answer.
Brielle drains the last of her wine and sets the glass aside with a sigh. “I get it. More than you think. This, him, the pull. The way your whole body responds as if it’s been waiting for something this fucked up and feral.”
My breath catches.
She hesitates, then smirks. “I’m seeing someone. Not officially or publicly. But it’s been a few months.”
I sit up straighter. “And?”
She shrugs, too casual to be innocent. “He’s dark. Intense. Possessive. A man who always knows where I am and always ready to take control.”
I stare. “Bri… elle.”
She raises a hand. “I’m safe. He never crosses a line. He listens. But he plays dark, Laurette. Very dark.”
“Like?”
“Breath control,” she says, lips quirking. “He restrains me. Makes me beg for release. There’s pain, yes, but it’s controlled. Intentional. I love the marks and the ache after. The way my body craves more with him.”
“Sounds hardcore.”
