In this book within a book, plunge into the escapades of Satine Fontaine, a woman on the run from her tumultuous past. The vibrant streets of New York beckon her, and fate conspires as she stumbles into Brooklyn's darkest bar, encountering the enigm...
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DOMESTICATED
Jimin's house was beautiful.
Every time Satine was offered to spend even an hour or so there, she agreed without hesitation. She was used to the luxury that her father's old money brought, the florals and golds and the antique furnishings, but there was something about the upcoming millennium that excited her. Jimin symbolised everything new.
The space was warm with its dark wood detailing and spacious L-shaped couch. It was open and airy, not cluttered with furniture that served no purpose. It was comforting, and Satine couldn't have felt more at home.
Maybe it was the company.
They stood in the kitchen, Jimin washing his hands with an apron hanging loosely around his body. He was preparing to teach her how to bake, but Satine was being difficult, childish; frankly getting on his last nerve.
She was feeling flirty, let's say. There was something about a domesticated man that really tickled the tip of her tongue and Jimin was offering nothing less. He looked immaculate, idyllic, so different to his usual self.
She had never seen him in a casual fit before and god was it a breath of fresh air after all the suits. A baggy hoodie with the sleeves pulled up to his elbows met his slacks, which of course never changed, but this time he wore them with a pair of slippers that honestly made Satine want to chuckle.
"Don't laugh, my mum bought them for me." He narrowed his eyes at his redhead sitting on the countertop with her long legs swinging.
She threw her arms up in surrender. "I'm not judging, they're cute."
Approaching with the spare apron, he took her hands to help her hop off the middle island. He hung the material loosely over her neck, holding back his smile after seeing it swamp her slim frame.
"Turn around, Coquette."
There was no mistaking what he was doing. His hands slithered around her waist to grab the string and harshly pulled it against her body. It outlined her curves, cinching the t-shirt he hadn't lent her but she took regardless, and had her releasing the most decadent of moans as he secured it tightly.
"Tight is always better," he whispered into her ear.
"I can barely breathe." Her chest was rising and falling as she struggled for air, but Jimin wouldn't have dreamed of loosening the string. He just watched as she shook her hair out of her face and pointed her narrow chin to the ceiling.
Her performance was believable, as always. Her plump lips parted, her tanned neck strained, and those long lashes fluttered against her cheek.
