Both brothers—Lucien and Florin—knew exactly how to make a woman feel seen and worshiped. Whether through sex or through treating her like she was the only woman in the world who mattered.
The car pulled up a long, tree-lined driveway. And at the end of it sat a mansion that looked like something straight out of a Disney movie.
The approach from the gate itself was easily half a mile. The massive dark wood doors must have been fifteen feet tall, and as we approached them, Lucien turned to me.
He took my hand and brought it to his lips, his dark eyes serious.
“Are you ready for this?”
Butterflies exploded in my stomach. “Yes.”
But was I? After all, it wasn’t every day that a mom from New Jersey got to be photographed in a French mansion by one of the world’s most renowned fashion photographers.
The bedroom they’d chosen for the shoot was enormous and impossibly beautiful. Soft lighting had been set up everywhere, creating an intimate, feminine atmosphere.
Vivienne, the photographer Lucien had hired, was nothing like I’d imagined. Instead of some intimidating fashion icon, she looked like she could still be in college—maybe early twenties, with tattoos covering both arms, a sexy chin piercing, and a tongue stud that glinted when she laughed.
Which she did. A lot.
“Okay, gorgeous, unbutton the top two buttons of your shirt,” Vivienne said, her French accent softer than Lucien’s. “We want that ‘just woke up’ vibe.”
I was lying on a massive bed that had been artfully tousled—white sheets, plush pillows everywhere. I wore only a white button-down shirt that fell to mid-thigh, and white socks. Nothing else.
The brief was simple: a woman lounging in bed. Natural. Comfortable. Real.
I unbuttoned the top two buttons, suddenly very aware of Lucien and Florin standing next to Vivienne, watching every shot appear on the monitor.
“Beautiful!” Vivienne called out, clicking away. “Now touch your hair. Slowly. Like you’re just running your fingers through it.”
I did as she said, and after the first few minutes, something shifted. The nervousness melted away. I felt... natural. Like I belonged here.
“You’re a natural!” Vivienne confirmed. “The camera loves you, babe. Now give me that look—the one where you’re thinking about someone you want.”
I glanced at Lucien and Florin. Both were watching me with intense focus, their expressions full of approval and something hotter.
That made it easy to give Vivienne the look she wanted.
The second setup was completely different.
Pink. Everything was pink.
Pink bed, pink nightstand, pink walls, pink lamp. And I was wearing the most ridiculously sexy bunny costume I’d ever seen—a tiny, tight pink bodysuit with a fluffy white tail and bunny ears with pink and black outlines.
I felt absolutely sexy.
The way Lucien and Florin were looking at me made me want them both inside me right now.
Then I caught myself. What? What am I thinking? I want both of them inside me?
But why not? I was in an open marriage that my husband had tricked me into. And now I was enjoying every moment of it. Why shouldn’t I experience being pleasured by two men at once?
I should absolutely experience this.
Both Lucien and Florin were staring at me with eyes full of lust and longing, and I stared right back, letting them see exactly what I was thinking.
“Okay, babe, pick up the champagne,” Vivienne directed. “Take a sip. Let it linger on your lips. Perfect!”
The champagne was Dom Pérignon—I’d learned to recognize it by now. Vivienne took shots of my lips, my face, my whole body from different angles while I sipped from the crystal flute.
