Free The Blue Room Vol. 2: The Blue Room Series by Kailin Gow

promise monogamy in the traditional way.
                “But
the question, Staci, is – what do you want?”
                My
body answers before my mind does.
                I
want the truth. I want to get close to him. I want to find out what the “pain”
he's caused is, and whether it has anything to do with Roz's death, or with
Rita's disappearance. I want to find out the secrets of the Blue Room.
                But
that's not what I say.
                What
I say is the truth.
                “I
want you to make love to me now.”
     

 
    Chapter 8
     
     
                T he moment I am no longer a virgin, nothing
much changes. I am still the same person, the same me – the same body,
experiencing a slight shudder of pain and then a wave of pleasure as he entered
me.
                A
part of me is almost amused by this fact. All this fuss, I think – over whether
I was a technical virgin or not, whether I'd had this kind of sex
– did men really pay thousands of dollars in premium for such a particular kind
of pain? And really – nothing much had changed.
                But
the thought soon leaves me. Soon, my thoughts are obliterated entirely by the
pleasure I am experiencing.
                Mr.
X. is an expert lover. He is gentle with me, at the beginning – tender. He
makes sure that the pain I am at first experiencing when he enters me is
manageable; he goes slowly, making sure I am aroused beforehand before plunging
into me. Once the pain is gone, however, once I begin to moan with pleasure
once again, the gentleness gives way to a rougher passion. His thrusts become
quicker; his nails dig into my back so deeply in the intensity of his grip,
punctuating the waves of ecstasy with pain I enjoy – I've never known pain
could be this arousing before. He thrusts into me faster and faster, deeper and
deeper, each move of his perfectly formed body increasing in intensity. He
lifts my legs above his shoulders so that he can drive deeper into me, filling
me completely – leading me into a depth of pleasure I had never before
experienced.
                Everything
I had ever done with Terrence, everything I had ever experimented with,
everything I'd ever tried – has only led up to this, this moment, this
connection. This beautiful emotional and downright hotly intense connection
like I was one with this man.
                I
tell myself that this isn't real. That this is the Blue Room. That this is all
in the service of a greater mystery. I'm not a prostitute, not a lover; I'm a
detective, undercover investigator…
                But
somehow, despite this, I feel a genuine connection with Mr. X. He'd trusted me
with something. Now I want to trust him. I feel so close to him. Maybe it's
just the adrenaline; I think maybe it's just the endorphins. Or maybe there
really is something to the old truism that sex brings people closer – at least
temporarily.
                We
come together, at the same moment, crying out words that made no sense. If I
had known his real name, I would have cried it out. Instead, I’m so overwhelmed
with pleasure and passion, the feeling of intimacy with him, I have tears rolling
down my eyes. Happy tears.
                It
is so easy to pretend. That I wasn't a prostitute. That this man wasn't my
john. That We were lovers – a couple that had met while flirting in the gym,
that had fallen for each other. That had decided to have sex.
                His
phone rings, and he rises to take it. He goes outside onto the balcony, fully
naked, and I smile as I watch him cross the room from behind: his sleek
muscular backside as perfectly formed as his front. He’s so beautiful. The dawn
is just cresting across the horizon, and I ache for him to take me again,
hungry for him.
                “I'm
sorry, love,” he says to me. “I've