“Between the tears and how jumpy you are, I’m going to disagree that you’re fine.” He smooths a palm down my back. I try to shift away before he reaches my ass, but my calves are pressed against the couch and I’m wearing sky high stilettos—which accounts for the sore ankles—so my coordination is somewhat lacking. I accidently step on the end of the blanket, tugging it free from my grasp, which means I’m once again naked—apart from shoes, and pearls. At least this time there are no other witnesses.

“Maybe I should get dressed before we talk about how to deal with this,” my suggestion is super pitchy.

Darren’s eyes narrow as I attempt to untangle my heel from the blanket. It’s one of those soft, hand knitted ones from a super-cute store downtown. I pointed it out to Darren once when we were out for dinner, and the next time I came over it was draped over the reading chair he bought me last year. The chair doesn’t often get used for reading, and the blanket doesn’t match Darren’s décor, but it’s sweet that he bought it for me.

Unfortunately, I’m now caught up in his thoughtfulness. Literally.

“Turn around for me, Charlene.” Darren’s voice is low, commanding.

My entire body flashes with goose bumps. Oh shit. His expression is no longer serious. Instead a dark smile appears briefly. I can’t decide right now if that’s a good or a bad thing.

I turn slowly, fighting the urge to crane my neck so I can see his face. I shudder as he drags a single knuckle from the top of my spine to my tailbone and then lower. Fanning out his fingers, he skims the pink, fuzzy bunny tail—which is attached to a butt plug that’s currently parked in my ass.

“I see you had expectations for tonight,” he murmurs.

“No expectations,” I breathe.

“I don’t think that’s true.” His lips are at my ear, his fingers spread across the underside of my jaw, palm resting against the base of my throat as his other hand trails along my hip, palm flattening under my navel as his chest comes flush with my back.

His shirt is cotton, soft and warm, his belt buckle is a cold shock resting against my low back. I exhale on a whimper when Darren’s fingertips graze the crest of my pubic bone, the heel of his palm pressing firmly against my low belly, his thick erection putting pressure on the plug through the barrier of his jeans.

“I wanted to be prepared for whatever you needed tonight,” I whisper.

“Ah, you were being thoughtful, then?”

“I know today was stressful for you.” It sure was stressful for me, even more so in the past twenty minutes.

“All this trouble you went to.” His teeth graze the sensitive skin at the side of my neck. “It was definitely a stressful day, and you would’ve been the perfect surprise had circumstances been different.”

“I’m sorry.” I need to stop saying that.

“Actions always speak so much louder than words, don’t they?” His voice is a shadow looming. “Why don’t you show me how sorry you are?”DARREN

It’s a good thing Charlene can’t see my face right now. It’s difficult to not smile, which is the reason I have her in this position. Of all the relationships I’ve been in—which isn’t all that many considering most women aren’t excited about signing an NDA before the first date—Charlene is hands down my favorite sexual partner. She’s my favorite everything, really.

Her throat bobs with a nervous swallow under my palm. I bite the shell of her ear. “Whatever shall I do with you?”

She stumbles forward a step when I release her. She doesn’t turn around, doesn’t ask any questions, simply waits for instructions. It looks like she’s giving me the reins tonight. I bite my knuckle as I consider the plethora of sex toys and then Charlene. She really is gorgeous, with her long auburn hair piled on top of her head to expose the gentle line of her neck, slender shoulders rolled back, and that pink bunny tail peeking out from between her ass cheeks is just . . . adorably sexy. If there was a sex toy that could encapsulate Charlene’s personality, it’s that goddamn butt plug.

Here’s the thing about Charlene: I know what she wants better than she does. And it sure isn’t that fucking mammoth dragon cock sitting in the middle of the living room floor. Charlene has an incredibly wild imagination, and she loves to read every dirty, smutty book she can get her hands on.

She also thinks she wants to try everything, but sometimes she jumps in head first and then realizes what she thought, and what truly is, are not the same. So she’ll come at me with the most extreme of extremes, and I’ve learned from experience and trial and error to feed into it, then dial it all the way back until we’re a few shades out from vanilla. That way she’s not at risk of having a full-on panic attack over the possibility that I might try something she’s not ready for.