As soon as we entered the viewing room, he led us to a chair off to the side and insisted I sit on his lap. I wasn’t sure if it was for show or if being in his lap with his arm clasping me to him was a way of protecting me. Either way, it was hell.

The woman in front of us arched her back and moaned. It wasn’t the sound of her satisfaction that had me wiggling, it wasn’t the man’s mouth between her legs, it wasn’t her naked breasts or his bare ass. It was jealousy. I didn’t want to perform in front of a group of people, I never wanted to be on display, but I wanted to feel what she was feeling. Just once I wanted to know what it felt like to be worshiped, pleasured beyond rational thought. I wanted Asher between my legs. I wanted to get lost in his touch. I wanted to make him lose himself. I wanted to fall asleep next to him sweaty and exhausted and wake up next to him energized so we could start again.

But that was never going to happen. He would leave and I’d be stuck in a life that was mediocre at best. I’d have average sex, I’d find an average job, I’d have to find new friends since I’d lost all of mine and they’d be average, too. My one chance at extraordinary would be in Idaho living his best life and, in a few weeks, I’d be nothing more than a passing memory.

This had to be the absolute lowest. There could be no further to fall, there couldn’t possibly be another level in which I could sink. Asher proved my thoughts wrong when he slid his hand from my hip to my stomach and then up between my breasts, stopping only when it was around my throat just under my jaw. His mouth went to my neck and his tongue traced a line up to my ear, causing me to tremble. The pressure on my throat intensified as Asher used his grip to tilt my head back.

“I’m trying so fucking hard, sweetness.” He punched out each word, the blow of them knocking the wind out of me. “Stop. Moving.”

Then with his breath fanning over my neck, I sank deeper into the hell I created. The nightmare that was my life. The dream that would never come to pass. The fantasy that was Asher.

“Any other place, any other time, your dress would be around your hips, my cock would be buried so… fucking… deep and you’d be screaming for more.”

Try as I might to remind myself this was all an act—providing Asher cover while he worked—I failed. A whimper slipped past my lips and I felt no regret, no shame, no need to call it back and pretend I was unaffected.

“You had your chance,” I reminded him.

“No, sweetness, I had the chance to fuck you.” He paused and scraped his teeth down the sensitive skin under my ear. “I want to own you. I want you to need me like you need your next breath. I want you delirious. I want you begging. And if I can’t have that, if I can’t keep you, if I can’t give you everything I have, then I want nothing.”