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I yelp loudly and fire explodes through my breast as he slaps my nipple. Then, as the initial sting fades, it’s replaced with something I’ve never once felt before: a heated throb that twists and writhes under my skin until my thighs are clenching together.
“I asked you a fucking question, kitten.”
He slaps my other nipple, making me yelp again as pure liquid fire explodes through my core.
Quickly, I shake my head side to side.
“And yet,” he rasps, circling me like a shark sensing blood in the water, “you still open that fucking mouth.”
Suddenly, something presses to my lips. They part in confusion, then my brows furrow as something soft and lacy pushes into my mouth, gagging me.
Sweet fucking God, he just fucking gagged me with my panties.
Gabriel moves behind me again. This time, when he spanks my ass, my moans are muffled by the lace.
“Get on your fucking knees,” he growls against my ear. “Now.”
Shaking, my pulse thundering and my head spinning, I lower myself to my knees as instructed. His hands cup my breasts from behind, and I whimper as he roughly pinches and twists my nipples again.
His hands drop, and when they come back up, I gasp as something cold slips over my right nipple.
And then tightens.
Hard.
I squeal into the lace, writhing as the clamp pinches my nipple in sweet agony. The bite of the second one on my left nipple has my head spinning and pure need leaking between my thighs.
I know there’s a safe word that gets me out of this. I know I can end this.
…I’m not going to. Not yet. Because although this is one of the most terrifying moments of my life, it’s also perhaps the single hottest. Although the adrenaline and fear rip through my veins like napalm, the throbbing, needy heat between my thighs has me aching for more.
I gasp as both clamps tug my nipples at the same time, like they’re connected by a handle or a chain that he’s pulling.
“What. An. Eager. Little. Slut.”
There are words we’re told are bad. Just like there are desires we’re told are bad even to think about. Words like slut or whore. Desires like being hit, or punished, or hurt.
They’re words and desires that I’ve never explored with anyone—out of shame, and fear of judgment, and fear of men in general.
But tonight, I’m letting go. I want to tell myself that it’s because I know Gabriel. That even though the man spanking me, and slapping my nipples, and choking me with my own panties is this nuclear level Dom right now, I know him as the strict but normal Gabriel Black, attorney at law. As the control freak boss who never dates because he’s married to his job. As the man who’s famous for his zeal for justice and representing the little guy.
Except, suddenly, I’m not so sure I do know “the real” Gabriel Black.
Maybe, after three years of knowing him, I’m only actually meeting the real Gabriel tonight.
I whimper as he tugs the clamps again.
“Hands behind your back. Now, my little fuck toy.”
The way he’s talking to me is insane. And yet, I’m hanging off every word, eagerly anticipating what filthy, unspeakable thing he’s going to say next.
My hands reach behind to the small of my back. When I feel the metal cuffs click around them, my pulse skips.
“You can end this any time, kitten,” he purrs. “Say the word, and this is over. Like”—he snaps his fingers loudly right by my ear—“that.”
The room goes pin-drop silent. I can feel his eyes on me, daring me to chicken out.
Not. Fucking. Happening.
