Page 106 of Ready For His Rule

No such luck. He had an agenda and was sticking to it. That much was obvious by the brace of his stance, hands fisted at his sides while air pumped his chest and a bulge strained the juncture of his thighs.

“Now the rest,” he finally ordered. “Let me see your hot kali, woman.”

Her blood raced as she bent over, hooking thumbs into the sides of the panties. She pushed them into a pool at her feet. As she rose back up, standing nude in the middle of the hallway, a shiver finally claimed her.

Why?

The man had seen every inch of her body, on a very intimate basis, many times over the last week—

Only right now, she was as nervous as a virgin.

In a kink play club.

In front of the most formidable, beautiful warriors she had ever met.

Looking across all his features, like the hardest, most delicious piece of human toffee, and knowing exactly what he planned for her naked body next.

Or…

Maybe not.

She’d expected him to reach for her once again—though not with anything in his hand as he did. Certainly not with a fistful of…what, exactly? She gawked at the formless black latex. Back up at Franzen. His expression was a dark, unreadable puzzle. His face had darkened and hardened after she took off her panties, though never fully returned to its original cliffs of dedicated dominance.

What the hell was he up to?

“Come here.” The bastard didn’t clear up anything with his thick growl—except her body’s overriding desire to obey him. As she inched closer to him, he raked her form with his ravenous eyes and stated, “It’s time for the kitten to get into her play clothes.”

Fresh scowl. Open confusion. “Kittens have play clothes?” And why did that make her think of nothing but those helpless felines on the internet, forced to wear dumb costumes for owners who thought “cowboy cat” and “super hero cat” were actually cute shit?

“Hmmm. This kitten does.”

Why didn’t that make her feel any better than cowboy cat?

Nevertheless, she stood patiently as he pulled the latex piece wider, stretching it between his hands. In a flash, recognition hit. The thing was a hood, made to go entirely over someone’s head, with almond-shaped holes for the eyes, along with spaces for the nose and mouth. A pair of molded cat ears sprouted off the top.

For a long second, she just stared at the thing. Back up to him. Back at the hood. Damn. He really wanted her to wear it. To let him put it on her, erasing every discernible aspect of her face. The idea didn’t bring on a ton of tranquility—though the alternative wasn’t exactly fear. It was trepidation, uneasiness…and ohhhh yes, a new gush of unstoppable arousal.

What would it be like…to not be her anymore?

To become, in so many ways, his sexy submissive kitten?

“Let’s try it on.” While his voice was low command, his gaze formed a gentler question. He wouldn’t do it without her consent.

Consent her lips couldn’t seem to give. Her throat felt like a vise. Her lungs worked harder and harder, for half as much air.

She prayed he’d get the message as she inched back toward him—then dipped her head forward, almost nudging the hood like a real kitten.

With a rumble of low satisfaction, John slid the latex over her.

As the cool, tight plastic adhered to her like heavy glue, a string of reactions hit in frenetic succession.

So this was why he asked for the severe hair style.

How long does he want me to wear this thing?

It’s kind of comfortable.

Oh my God, I must look fifteen kinds of silly.

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