Fall For My Ex's Mafia Father novel Chapter 130

The room is…well, it’s incredibly chic, as far as sex dungeons go.

My mouth falls open as I slowly scan the room, taking in everything and trying to figure out the function of…well, all of it.

I blush horribly as I step into the room, feeling every bit the naïve virgin that I am. I know, immediately, that I am out of my league with this. Here I was thinking that all you needed for sex as a nice comfortable bed and…

Well, actually, that’s here too.

I wander towards the huge four-poster bed at the center of the room. It’s made of sturdy black wood and dressed with onyx satin sheets. I run my hand over the blankets, marveling at the softness of the material before my eyes catch on the series of rings built into the headboard. I look up at the posts next, and then at the square of wood that connects each of the posts above my head. Those all have rings too.

What the hell are those for?

I snatch my hand away from the bed, bringing my fingers delicately to my mouth and turning to look around more. It’s actually…not at all like the dungeons I’ve seen on television and the internet, the few times I’ve been curious enough to look. Those are filled with devices and chains and…strange obscene chairs that make me blush harder when I remember them. This room, while it’s clearly built for sex - and for a very certain kind of sex - is…simpler, I suppose?

It suits Kent, I think as I look around, to have a BDSM sex room where most of the toys are neatly hidden away in tasteful, matching cabinets that line the walls. Even in here, he keeps his secrets close to his chest, locking away everything until he’s ready to reveal it.

I’m standing, knock-kneed and wide-eyed, still staring around the room, when I hear someone clear their throat behind me.

I gasp, spinning, and see him there – his muscular shoulders filling out the frame of the door. My eyes go even wider, if that’s possible. Slowly, I let my hand drop from my mouth as he takes a step into the room and closes the door behind him.

“Hello, Fay,” he says, slipping his hands into his pockets and staring at me evenly, his voice perfectly controlled. “How was your date with Ivan?”

I laugh, suddenly – a little huff of disbelief, really – at the ridiculous simplicity of the question. “Um, it was nice?” I hear myself say. “We had…tacos.”