Paradise Found

“I need to touch you, Elle.” I groan.

She leans forward and unhooks my hands from the chains, leaving the cuffs around my wrists, and then she does the same with my ankles. Once I’m free, it’s my turn to be in charge as I flip Elle over and wrap my hand around her throat while I fuck the living hell out of her.

“Your fucking cunt is addictive,” I curse at her as I fuck her into oblivion.

We’ve turned animalistic with desire. It’s as if Vixen has flicked some kind of primal switch in our minds, and only our base needs matter.

Elle’s nails scrape down my back, and my hand tightens around her throat as if urging me on. I’ve never been able to let loose like this with a woman before. Never pushed the envelope this much.

Fucking hell, I love it.

We both come again, and I swear I see stars, fucking rainbows, and fucking unicorns when I come this time. I know I sound like some teenage girl, but it’s so overwhelmingly sensual I have no other explanation for my thoughts.

I’m so exhausted that I slide off Elle and land in a sweaty pile beside her.

Both of us are unable to speak as we lay panting.

“Fuck. That was some of the best sex I’ve ever had.” Elle groans as she looks over at me.

And coming from her, whose job it is to bring people’s fantasies to life, that means something to me.

“I never knew sex could be like this,” I say, reaching out and pulling her to me.

“Guessing you liked your punishment then?” she asks, smiling up at me.

“Maybe I need to be bad more often if this is my punishment,” I reply as I lean forward and kiss her.

Elle sighs as we lose ourselves again. “Someone will be here ready and willing to dish it out,” she states.

I still in her arms.

She saidsomeone else,not her.

“You think that was because of a fantasy and not because of who it was with?” I ask her, confused.

“This is what The Paradise Club does, Mr. King. Any time you want it, night or day … your desires can be fulfilled,” she explains.

I thought maybe it was different.

Am I being naïve?

“You think that someone else at the club can deliver what just happened?” I ask her as confusion swirls in my mind.

“Of course,” she answers, not daring to look at me.

Maybe she’s right.

“And you would be okay with someone else delivering it?” I ask.

God, I sound so desperate.

Elle probably gets this all the time—some guy gets his rocks off so good that he thinks he’s falling for the woman whose job it is to do exactly that.

Elle pauses, hesitates for the moment, but finally answers. “Anyone would be happy to make your fantasies come true, Mr. King.”

But the only oneIwant to deliver them isher.

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