Maybe I shouldn’t have been so nosy, because now as he leads me further into the belly of the house, all my fears rush to the surface. Does he have some weird sex room like Christian Grey’s red room of pain?

He opens the door to a large office, complete with an executive style mahogany desk, black leather chair, charcoal gray sofa, and a mini bar built into the far wall. This room has a cozy feel to it with its rich wood furniture, plush carpeting and the subtle scent of his cologne that I smelled earlier. A set of glass doors lead out to a balcony. "Out here." He motions me forward as he crosses the room.

He opens the glass door and steps out onto a large deck overlooking the Pacific Ocean and I am stunned into speechlessness. The soft whoosh of waves in the background and the gentle breeze blowing my hair back from my face are immediately calming.

I can see why the opulent rooms of the house don’t interest him. This is like a private oasis out here. Two wooden lounge chairs outfitted with comfy looking cushions and a small round table nesting between them are the only pieces of furniture, but it’s perfect. Anything more would clutter the space.

He lets me take in the peaceful setting, and when he breaks the silence a moment later, it temporarily startles me. "You’ll probably discover I work too much." He points toward the office. "And I come out here to unwind."

I nod in silent acknowledgment. It might not be much, but he’s exposed a small piece of himself, and I tuck the knowledge away. He’s a workaholic and perhaps a contemplative man, spending his time alone with the sounds of the water to keep him company.

We head back inside and Drake completes the tour – there’s an outdoor swimming pool and garden that I only peek at through the window, as well as a home gym one level down.

Finally he leads me into a den with huge windows that overlook the ocean and has a sectional couch and large flat screen TV mounted above a fireplace.

"This is it," he says, somberly.

All this just for him? It must get lonely.

He stands in silence studying me for what feels like too long. Realizing that the tour is over, my eyes fall to the floor. Are we going to have sex now? Here in the den? I imagined it’d be in his bedroom, but I suppose this is better than a weird sex dungeon or some other strange alternative. I have no idea what his interests and preferences are, but I suppose I’m about to learn. My heart thuds dully in my chest.

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"Eyes up," he orders again.

There’s something he dislikes about my refusal to meet his eyes. Is he ashamed he bought me? It’s as though he wants to pretend all this is normal. I’ll play along. For now. I don’t know what he is capable of, and I don’t want to anger him. I meet his gaze. What I see is an intense man – his dark eyes speak of pain and past trauma, and someone fighting to practice restraint - if the tick in his jaw is any evidence.

"You don’t have to be so skittish around me. I’m not going to hurt you, sweetness."

I draw a fortifying breath. I want to believe him. His tone is sincere, as is the nickname, and the way he’s gazing over at me feels non-threatening, but still, all my senses are on high alert. I need to keep myself on guard until I have my bearings.

"Come sit down." He crosses the room and sits in the center of the large gray sectional sofa.

I sit down in the spot next to him, my breathing erratic. I should thank him for the money but I don’t know his intentions. "I’m sorry. I’m just new to this whole sex slave thing," I say instead.

He runs one hand through his hair, looking deep in thought. "Yeah, me too."

"I’m your first?"

"Something like that." He grins at me and my belly flips.

"I’m not sure how it works…or what to expect," I admit.

"Would it put you at ease if I explained some things to you?"

I nod, and fold my hands in my lap.

"I’m a busy man, Sophie. I run two companies and have little time to pursue extra- curricular activities. You’re here to satisfy my physical cravings – to take care of my needs. I will satisfy your financial needs. Half of the money is being transferred into your account tonight and as long as you remain with me and comply to the contract, you will receive the remaining balance at the end of the six months. Your discretion is very important to me. I know you’ve signed a non-disclosure agreement, but I need your word that you’ll tell no one about our arrangement." His eyes lift to mine. "Not even your best friend. No one."

The thought of telling Becca the truth about what I’ve done never even crossed my mind. "I won’t. I don’t want anyone knowing about this either." I knew I’d need to explain the money somehow, but I figured I could tell my family it was from an anonymous donor at the hospital. The first installment – five hundred thousand, minus what I owed Bill, will be in my account tomorrow. It’s more than enough to pay for Becca’s treatment. The fleeting idea of ditching him once I have the money crosses through my brain. But realizing there’ll be no way I could ever pay him back, I know I need to fulfill my end of the contract.

"Good. We’ll need to craft a story for the public, friends and families about why you’re here, but as long as you prove to be trustworthy, there’s no reason I can’t give you some of the freedoms of a normal life. In the meantime, you’re free to use the house as your own – the pool, gardens, and gym are all open to you."

I nod again. I wonder if I’d be free to leave the premises and go for a jog, but for now I keep my lips sealed. I don’t want to push my luck the first night. Besides, if he is the vindictive type, once he knows that’s important to me, he could hold it over my head as punishment. I look up at the giant television screen in front of us and wonder what he intends for the rest of the night.

"What do you want?" I murmur, gathering my courage. It’s better to know what’s coming at me, so I have a chance to mentally prepare.

His eyes wander over to mine and he smirks. "I want what all men want when they spend a cool mil for a virgin."

Oh god. It’s happening tonight. I hadn’t even had time to prepare. I’m still tender from my waxing. I wonder if he’ll give me an extra day or two if I tell him.

"I want a cold beer and to watch the sports highlights," he finishes.

All the air rushes from my lungs in a whoosh. "That’s all?"

Still watching my reaction, he lifts one dark brow. "Honestly, I’d love a blowjob, but considering the mistrust in your eyes, I’m not sure having your teeth that close to my dick would be the wisest decision."




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