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He paces in front of me, not taking his eyes from my body. His expression is unreadable for a time, but eventually his lips curl into a small, satisfied smirk when he looks between my legs. “I see I’m not the only one who was looking forward to this.”
I press my thighs together, willing the embarrassment to pass and knowing it won’t.
“Don’t be ashamed of it, Princess,” he says, lifting my chin until our eyes meet. “Your arousal is beautiful to me. In fact, I won’t be satisfied until you’ve let me enjoy it. On your hands and knees. Now.”
My knees go weak before I have time to consider his request. Enjoy it? He wants to look at the wet spot on my panties? I should be mortified, but there’s something in the acceptance of his request that makes my skin tingle from my toes to my head. I go on my hands and knees, pointing my ass toward him, feeling so incredibly vulnerable but at the same time feeling a sort of safeness unlike I’ve never known. It’s as if I’m in a protective bubble of his approval and dominance, and so long as I maintain it, nothing can touch me.
He sighs with satisfaction, moving slowly around me as if he is an art connoisseur appreciating a particularly fine piece. The way his eyes are feeding on me feels good. Really good. More than that, the way he demands instead of asks is so hot I can barely stand it. Everything about him exudes power, manliness, and sexuality.
“What I want to do to you will feel good,” he says. “It will feel better than anything you’ve ever felt or dreamed of feeling. But you have to earn it. And you, my Princess, have been bad tonight. Before we continue, I need to be sure you’re clear about what this is.”
I shake my head, still on my hands and knees but turning to face him. “I don’t think I have any idea what this is,” I say.
“I don’t have regular appetites. The things I want--the things I need sexually would frighten most women.”
“Would you hurt me?” I ask.
“Not in any meaningful way,” he says.
“That’s not reassuring.”
He gets down on one knee, lowering his voice. “What I want is a unique kind of relationship. My life is an endless barrage of posturing and pretending. Relationships are as fake as the alliances they form. None of it is real beyond first glance. I want more. I want something deeper.”
“I don’t think I understand.”
“I’ve been with women before--not officially, because officially, a prince is supposed to be chaste on his wedding day, though I doubt that has ever happened. Still, the women before were meaningless to me. I went through the motions, nothing more. When I was here with you the first night you tried to escape though, it was like I woke up for the first time. I can’t explain it. Hell, I don’t even understand it. But I know what I need now. Will you trust me?”
I should say no. I should stand up, gather my dress--and what’s left of my dignity--and run. Instead, I nod my head. No matter how stupid it may be, I want this. I want the life he promises, whether he realizes it or not. I want the trust and the acceptance that he holds in his eyes.
“Good. If you change your mind, or if I ask you to do something you don’t wish to do, just say ‘Red’. Do you understand?”
“Yes. Like a safe word.”
He nods. “Go to the chest beneath the whips.” When I make a move to stand, he stops me. “No, stay on your hands and knees. Crawl.”
I crawl away from him, toward the box, all the while hoping he isn’t fixating on some imperfection in my body, wondering how my ass must look and how a man like him must be used to women who are the image of perfection. Yet he says nothing, and when I glance back over my shoulder, his face is full of lust and desire.
“Faster,” he says.
I increase my pace even though it stings my knees to move quickly on the rough stone floor. When I reach the chest, I put my hand on the clasp and start to lift it.
“Stop!” shouts Roark. His voice booms in the quiet room, nearly giving me a heart attack. “If you’re going to be my Princess, you’re going to need to learn to follow orders better. What did I ask you to do?”
“To go open the chest but crawl there on my hands and knees?” I ask.
“No. I never told you to open it. You must do exactly as I say. No more and no less. If you obey me, I’ll give you more pleasure than you can imagine. Disobey me, and you’ll have to face the punishment. Now open the chest. Your punishment is inside.”
