Exposed: Laid Bare: Volume 1, Page 2

I had on sexy, high-heeled black boots and a thin wrap dress in a festive holiday green that matched my eyes. The boots were okay, but the silky fabric of the dress was doing nothing to keep the icy air from nipping at my bare skin beneath. I’d foregone undergarments for this visit, which was very unlike me, and that omission was currently contributing to my freezing my ass off.

  “What were you thinking?” I asked myself.

  But I knew the answer—I wanted to feel sexy. Though, now, I couldn’t for the life of me remember why. Perhaps my choice of attire was due to my reaction as I’d continued to research Lucien. Not being able to find much on the man made him mysterious and appealing. Not to mention, his great looks were a heady turn-on, even for a virginal girl like me.

  I stared at the heavy iron knockers—roaring lion’s heads on each of the two doors—for what felt like an eternity. I supposed I was mesmerized by their strangeness. In fact, the whole place was kind of strange. Valets appearing out of thin air, plummeting temperatures, howling winds. And now the lion-head door knockers were appearing almost life-like, which was ridiculous since they were made of iron. So why, then, did it feel as if their eyes were watching me, assessing me?

  “You are losing it,” I muttered to myself.

  And that was the point where I began questioning the wisdom of coming to this house alone. Something felt off. The icy wind that continued to whip around me did nothing to soothe these unsettled feelings. But, for whatever reason, I also felt compelled to stay, to see how this evening with Lucien might play out.

  “Be brave,” I whispered for encouragement as I reached for the iron ring attached to the lion-head on the right.

  And then, suddenly, when my fingers wrapped around the iron knocker, I felt inexplicably soothed.

  “This place is bizarre,” I said out loud as I commenced knocking.

  Several minutes passed, and within that time, everything grew quiet. The property was secluded, yes, but even the branches on the acres and acres of surrounding trees seemed to stop creaking. They had been so loud earlier, as had the now-quieted whipping wind.

  Maybe I should go…

  But just as I was about to turn tail and leave, Lucien Chambers opened the door. “Miss Vaughn.” He had the slightest British accent. “Please do come in.”

  He smiled at me, and he looked so amazing, so appealing. I couldn’t even move a muscle at first. I stood there and stared, taking in his casual attire of dark pants and a cream-colored, cashmere sweater, which contrasted beautifully with his coal black hair.

  Interestingly, I noticed Lucien had on no shoes or socks. Even so, he seemed not one bit bothered by the cold.

  But I spent no time dwelling on those oddities. Instead, I concentrated on Lucien’s wide shoulders, the breadth of his chest, and the appealing way his torso tapered at his waist. His sweater looked so soft against his hard frame, and I longed to reach out and touch him, to feel how the softness of the sweater contrasted with Lucien’s hard-looking chest.

  Of course, I refrained from making any such bold move. Even so, when I peered up at Lucien from beneath my lashes, it was as if he knew what I was thinking.

  The side of his luscious mouth curved up into a knowing smile, and I became flustered, my gaze skittering away.

  God, he is angelically beautiful, I thought.

  But devilishly onto you, I reluctantly added.

  I questioned whether Lucien was really human, seeing into my head as I knew he was. But then I thought, How ridiculous.

  “Something wrong, Miss Vaughn,” Lucien asked, his dark, penetrating eyes assessing me for my reaction when I glanced up.

  “No, nothing is wrong,” I squeaked. Clearing my throat, I added in what I hoped was a more level voice, “I was just thinking we should get started with the session. It’s getting late.”

  “Of course, Miss Vaughn. Your wish is my command.” Smirking, he stepped aside and motioned for me to come in.

  I moved forward, carefully, so as not to touch him. Not that I didn’t trust Lucien. I didn’t trust myself. I was thinking and feeling far too many strange things, like how I suddenly wanted him in a way I’d never known a man.

  Once in the house, Lucien beckoned me to follow him. He led me through an entry corridor with frosted side windows, and then in to a grand, high-ceilinged hall.

  I set my camera bags down on the marble floor, and, in awe, spun around once. “Wow,” I gushed. “Your home is beautiful.”

  Opulence, opulence, everywhere I turned. Apart from the marble floor, there was a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling and expensive-looking artwork on the walls.

  Post-appraisal, I murmured, “Quite impressive, Mr. Chambers.”

  “Thank you,” Lucien replied. He looked down in an almost humble sort of way. His reaction made him oddly endearing, like he was exposing a vulnerability to me.

  Clearing my throat (and my head), I murmured, “Mr. Chambers, we really should get started.”

  “Please, just call me Lucien,” Lucien said. “Mr. Chambers sounds so stuffy.”

  “Okay.” I smiled at him. “But only if you agree to call me by my first name, as well.”

  “Certainly,” he replied charmingly, “I think we have ourselves a deal, Dahlia.”

  I liked the way my first name rolled off his tongue. It was as if he were tasting every letter, as well as tasting me.

  “Uh…” I glanced around.

  Suddenly, I was feeling incredibly warm.

  “May I take your coat?” Lucien asked presciently.

  “Yes, yes.” I shrugged out of the sleeves, but then stopped, coat partway off, front gaping open. “Hey, don’t you have servants to do this sort of thing,” I wondered out loud.

  He chuckled, despite my forwardness…or maybe because of it.

  “I’ve given everyone the evening off tonight,” he explained. “So we could have some privacy.”

  “Oh.”

  His dark eyes slid to my chest, and I realized my nipples had hardened, the pointed peaks pressing through the thin material of my dress. I hurriedly removed my coat the rest of the way and folded it over so I could place it in front of my traitorous chest.

  Damn this dress. Why had I chosen it? My breasts weren’t huge, but they were too big to be prancing around braless in something so flimsy.

  What had I been thinking?

  If I were to be honest, I knew the answer. I wanted Lucien’s attention. I wanted him to feel attracted to me, just as I felt attracted to him.

  Well, if my intent had been to capture Lucien’s male attention, it was working. He was trying to be coy, but I could see he was checking out what he could see of my somewhat, but not fully, covered cleavage.

  “Here.” He reached for my coat. “I’ll hang that up for you.”

  I handed him my coat, which provided him an opportunity to see everything I’d been hiding. And look he did. Damn, did he ever. His dark eyes soaked me in hungrily, moving shamelessly from my chest to the ample swell of my hips.

  “You’re a very beautiful woman,” Lucien said in a rough voice. “But you know that, Dahlia, don’t you?”

  I shook my head. “Actually, I don’t think that way about myself at all. But thank you for saying so, Lucien.”

  He nodded, and then, leaning down, he snatched up my camera bags from the floor. His eyes subtly assessed me as he rose, and I felt another surge of warmth. And want.

  “Come.” Again, Lucien beckoned for me to follow. “I think you’ll find the lighting in the study will work best for this shoot.”

  Normally, I would insist on choosing the setting for the shoot. I always decided where the lighting was best, and that was determined only after a careful inspection of multiple potential shooting sites.

  But, today, I had no argument in me. I only wanted one thing, to follow Lucien. So follow him, I did. Like a puppy, I trailed behind him, struggling to keep up with his long, sure strides.

  We traveled down corridor after corridor. The house was enormo
us and like a huge, never-ending maze. I concluded rather quickly that I’d never find my way back to the front door, not without Lucien’s help. Perhaps that was his goal? But instead of feeling uncomfortable and unsafe about that possibility, I felt nothing but calm and subdued.

  In fact, I was kind of enjoying the feeling of being at Lucien’s mercy.

  With that thought passing through my head, we reached the study. The room did have fabulous lighting, I conceded as we walked in.

  “Okay,” I began, turning to face Lucien. “I should get set up so we can get started.”

  “Certainly,” he replied.

  I got set up, and ten minutes later, I was shooting what I knew would be some of the best photographs I’d ever taken. Lucien had been spot-on correct, the lighting was perfect. The blinds were drawn tightly on the outside world, but the many lamps scattered throughout the room cast my subject in just the right level of shades and shadows.

  I took pictures of Lucien sitting pensively at his desk, pics of him standing at the windows with the blinds drawn, and a few final shots of him lounging on a red leather sofa against the far wall.

  Lucien’s casual attire and mussed hair provided the ideal contrast to what the piece was to be about—his power and wealth.

  As I wrapped up, snapping one final shot of him standing directly in front of me, I said, “That was amazing, Lucien. I think the pictures are going to be phenomenal.”

  “I’m sure they will be stunning,” he murmured, “with you behind the lens.”

  I thanked him, and said, “Well, you’re a fantastic subject.”

  “I suppose we make a good team, then,” he replied with a dazzling smile.

  Oh, please, sweet baby Jesus, save my soul.

  I hid behind the lens once more to conceal all the emotions Lucien was stirring in me.

  A good team… I sighed.

  “Let’s take a few more shots,” I said, just to give myself time to get my shit together.

  Lucien was a few feet away when he looked up and asked in a low voice, “How do you want me, Dahlia?”

  I gulped. “Uh, just like that.”

  I zoomed in on his face. “What color are your eyes?” I asked. “They’re so…indecipherable.”

  He chuckled as he replied, “What color do you think they are, Dahlia?”

  And in that moment, with time freezing for about three seconds, I saw the real Lucien Chambers.

  “Dark brown?” I inquired shakily.

  “Yes,” he replied, “that’s correct. My eyes are dark brown.”

  Still looking through the lens, poised to snap a single photo, I again saw a flash of the real Lucien Chambers. And, yes, his eyes were dark brown, but there was something more there, something deep, something beyond a mere shade or color. What was in Lucien’s eyes was something indescribable.

  It struck me then—his eyes betrayed that he was someone not entirely human.

  Gasping, I stepped back, but not before I got in that one final shot.

  “What are you?” I whispered as I lowered the camera to my side.

  He came to me, his body inches from mine. “What do you mean?” he innocently inquired.

  He was so male, so intoxicatingly male. His smell, the heat from his body… Suddenly, I didn’t care if he was something other than human. In fact, that possibility made me more curious than ever. And my body responded accordingly. All I could think of was sex, sex with Lucien, sex with a man that was possibly something more than a man.

  What would that be like?

  Taking the camera from my grasp, Lucien smiled and asked, “May I take some photos of you, Dahlia?”

  I was never one to have my picture taken, but with Lucien offering to go behind the lens, I didn’t much care.

  I nodded as I breathed out a sultry, “Yes.”

  “Great.” He took a step back.

  “What do you want me to do?” I inquired, glancing around the room.

  Fidgeting with the camera settings, he distractedly gestured for me to go to the red leather couch. “Lie down on the sofa,” he said. “I think your hair will look nice up against the leather.”

  “Auburn on crimson,” I said, giggling.

  I was feeling strange, kind of drunk. What was he doing to me?

  “Yes,” Lucien agreed, “there is that. The auburn on crimson, as you put it. But I’m also curious to see how your porcelain pale skin looks against the bright red.”

  I nodded, acquiescing. I was eager to please Lucien, so I went to and leaned back on the sofa, carefully so as to avoid placing the heels of my boots on the supple leather.

  When the bottom hem of my wrap dress fell away, exposing the creamy skin of one thigh, I hurriedly adjusted the fabric.

  “Oh,” I said, “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize.” Lucien sauntered over to where I was awkwardly lying on the sofa. He helped me scoot up and positioned me the way he wanted—up against the plush leather arm. Gently, he drew my auburn hair off to one side and brought it around to the front.

  I let out a nervous laugh, but the truth was I was feeling even more turned on than earlier, so much so that I didn’t mind one bit when Lucien’s fingers trailed down from my neck to my chest.

  He lingered. His eyes met mine as he toyed with the silky, green material barely covering my cleavage. “May I,” he asked. His fingers grazed my skin, creating a heated path.

  “Yes,” I replied, my chest heaving with excited breaths.

  With his eyes still holding mine in a seeming trance, he opened the front of my dress, exposing both of my breasts. I leaned back my head and gasped as his knuckles grazed over my left nipple, the peak aching to be touched by him.

  “There,” he said softly, “let’s start like that.”

  Scooting back, he took a couple of shots. “Look at me, Dahlia,” he suddenly commanded.

  I did as he asked.

  Snap. Snap. Snap.

  “Open your dress a little more.”

  I did as he asked.

  Snap. Snap. Snap.

  “Show me a little more thigh.”

  I did that, too.

  Snap. Snap. Snap.

  And then he was back in front of me, his hand at the ribbon sash keeping the dress from falling completely open.

  “How would you feel if we were to lose the dress?” he asked.

  I stared into his eyes. So mesmerizing. I’d never felt as sexy as I did in that moment. I also never felt as turned on.

  I licked my lips, and he asked with a smirk, “Does this, my photographing you, excite you?”

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  “Do I turn you on, Miss Vaughn?”

  “Call me Dahlia,” I murmured. “Remember. We’re on a first-name basis.”

  “Yes, Dahlia,” he purred. “Now, answer the question.”

  “Yes,” I admitted. A flood of heat hit me, making me moan and arch my back. “You turn me on.”

  I was so wet, so fucking dripping wet. I wanted him to touch me. I needed him to touch me. “Please,” I begged.

  “Please what?” he asked, like he had no clue.

  But he knew. He was toying with me, but I didn’t even give a damn.

  Nimbly, I undid the tie on my dress. The fabric fell away, exposing all of me to Lucien. “Touch me,” I pleaded.

  And he did.

  With the camera in one hand, he touched me with his other. He toyed with my breasts, caressed his knuckles down my abdomen, and placed two fingers at my core.

  I gasped, “Ohh…”

  He touched me gently, and I loved every minute of it. But when he slipped a finger into me, I jerked away.

  “Are you untouched, Dahlia?” he asked, concern creasing his brow. Or was that some other emotion?

  His finger remained in me, unmoving. And though it felt somewhat uncomfortable, I moved a little, instinct taking over.

  “Dahlia?” he prompted, twisting his finger.

  Wincing, I blurted, “Yes. I’m a virgin.”<
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  He smiled. “Oh, you just keep getting better and better.”

  I knew he’d handpicked me to photograph him, but had I been chosen for some other reason? Had this always been his intent—to touch me sexually?

  It didn’t matter, because in that moment, I knew this was the man I wanted to give my virginity to.

  “You can do more,” I told him.

  His eyebrows went up. “How much more?” he wanted to know.

  “As much as you want.”

  His eyes assessed me. “I can make it so it won’t hurt,” he offered, his tone soft.

  “I think that’s impossible,” I laughed.

  But there was no jest in his tone when he replied, “Anything is possible with me, Dahlia.”

  “Anything?”

  “Yes, anything…and everything.”

  Before I could ask him what he meant, his mouth was on me, lapping at my folds and pulling my clit into his mouth with his teeth. One finger was still inside of me, but this time, when he moved, it no longer hurt. Not even when he drove in and out of me relentlessly. He added another finger, and then another. Even filled with half of Lucien’s large hand, I felt no pain. The only thing I felt was pleasure and this wonderful build up.

  But before I fell over the edge, Lucien’s fingers left me, and he began kissing his way up my body. His hot mouth stopped and suckled at my breasts, and then he kissed up my neck until he covered my mouth with his. As his tongue danced with mine, I felt dizzy with lust, dizzy with him.

  Giggling against his lips, I tugged at his sweater. “Off,” I demanded.

  Lucien leaned back and slipped the fine cashmere over his head, mussing his hair up further. His chest was smooth and a golden tan tone, I supposed thanks to his Spanish mother. He was handsome in a timeless way.

  He undid his pants, but before he took them off, I placed my hand over his. “Wait,” I said.

  “Having second thoughts?”

  “No.” I shook my head. “I’m just feeling nervous, I guess.”

  “Look at me, Dahlia,” he said softly.

  Deep into his eyes I peered, until suddenly I was no longer nervous or frightened.

  “How do you do that?” I asked.

  But Lucien didn’t provide me with any explanation. Instead, he urged me up so he could slide my gaping dress the rest of the way off.