Read Online Uncovering You 2: Submission by Scarlett Edwards - Free Book Online

try to settle into him the way he wants. My body naturally wants to mold into his, and I fight the urge. Being around such a virile male makes me weak.
    I hate that I cannot control that reaction. After everything he’s put me through, and the promise of so much more to come, the only thing I should be feeling toward him is revulsion.
    Yet somewhere deep down, in my very core, desire fights to come to life like a seedling searching for sunlight.
    I stomp it down without mercy.
    I feel Stonehart’s phone buzz in his pocket. He shifts to take it out. “Ah,” he announces. “They are here.”
    He taps the screen, and the lights in the room fade. The only one left is the spotlight shining on the pillar. It’s a strange feeling to look at it from the outside.
    “Jeremy,” I ask, tensing up, “what’s going on?”
    “Don’t worry, darling,” he says. “I hired some entertainers for us tonight. Three of them.”
    Just then, baroque music starts to fill the room. It comes from everywhere, giving the impression of being at a live orchestra. There must be speakers hidden in the ceiling and walls.
    I hear the door behind us open. I crane my neck. The light from behind them illuminates two men, dressed in all black, rushing to fit a queen-sized frame through the door. I watch, a mixture of apprehension and curiosity building in my gut, as they run and place the frame on the floor directly beneath the spotlight. I sit up to get a better look, and Stonehart’s hand tightens around my waist.
    “Stay where you are,” he warns.
    I fall back. The two men return with a mattress, and put it on top of the frame. The music continues in the background. One of the men unravels a sheet, and the other darts away to bring in pillows. Soon, there is a beautiful, perfectly made bed in the center of the room.
    “I know what you’re thinking,” Stonehart whispers, “and no, that bed is not for us. At least, not for tonight.” He voice becomes an octave lower and a pitch deeper. “Instead of us fucking,” he rasps in my ear, “I thought we could watch others do it.”
    “What?” I hiss.
    “You heard me.” Stonehart’s hands press into the flesh of my belly protectively. “Enjoy the show.”
    The music picks up. Three beautiful women trail in. Each is wearing a silk, sheer gown. The flowing garments differ only in color. One is red, the other violet, and the last blue.
    The three women hold hands and run around us once, graceful as ballerinas. Their steps are timed to the music. They giggle and laugh as they throw ribbons of lace in the air.
    Stonehart settles back, clearly comfortable. I sit on his lap strung tight as a violin string.
    When one of the dancers makes her way to the bed, the others follow. She falls back, her dark hair spread around her head, and beckons the one in the blue to kiss her.
    They start to make out, hot, sensual, and lusty. The third woman gently caresses their combined bodies.
    Not half a minute later, I feel Stonehart’s hand travel up my leg. I squirm and press my knees together, hoping to deter him.
    “Lilly,” he says in my ear, “the show is turning me on.”
    His low growl makes my clit throb. I shove the sensation away.
    Stonehart is not a good man , I want to scream at my body. Stop reacting to him!
    Thankfully, his hand does not go farther than my thigh. My eyes focus on the three lovers again. Their tops have come off, and they are consuming one another, absolutely uninhibited by being watched. There is something very subtle and sensual about the way their bodies come together. It is not crude and forced, but softer, more like art. More like… real lovemaking.
    Another unconscious pulse of heat runs through me. I clear my throat to try to forget Stonehart’s hand lying against my bare skin.
    That only draws his attention back to me.
    My breathing quickens as Stonehart forces his hand into the smooth recess between my thighs. Conflicting emotions rage through me: Revulsion at the way my