“Me too,” I admitted on reflex.Oh, nice job playing it cool, Theo.“I mean, I’ve been thinkingabout you too.”
Ricard pulled back, his eyes searching mine. Whatever he found made his expression soften as his thumb brushed across my cheekbone. “Good.”
He took my hand and led me through the villa toward the bedroom. I followed, pulse racing with each step. What the hell did he want this time?
I got my answer when he pushed open the bedroom door. In the middle of the room, where nothing had been before, stood a tantric bench. I'd seen pictures of them during orientation, padded with straps and buckles to hold someone in place.
My mouth went dry. Images flooded my head. Me strapped down, unable to move, completely at Ricard's mercy. Just thinking about it sent a wave of heat rushing through me.
I felt Ricard step up behind me, hands resting on my waist, warm against my back. He pressed his body against mine, and my heart raced. “I’d like to use this today,” he murmured, his lips just below my ear. “If you’re willing.”
I swallowed hard, searching for words. “Yeah, for sure. Whatever you want.”
Something sparked in Ricard's eyes—hunger, but also something deeper. It made my heart race for a whole different reason.
“I want to see you,” he said softly. “Not just your body, but what’s beneath. What you hide from everyone else.”
Those words hit me like a ton of bricks. How did he know? How could he see through my well-crafted wall when I’d spent my whole life building it up?
“I’m yours,” I whispered, both terrified and liberated by the admission.
“Mine,” he echoed gently, cupping my face again. Then he was kissing me, his mouth claiming mine with that familiar heat that made me melt against him.
I lost myself in that kiss, in the way he held me and the way we fit together when we pressed against each other. When he finally pulled back, we were both panting, and I felt dizzy with need.
Ricard traced the tie of my robe, undoing it slowly. The silk slipped from my shoulders, pooling around my feet. His eyes roamed over me, heating my skin in a way that felt weirdly intimate. Not just sexual hunger, but something more appreciative.
“Beautiful,” he muttered, trailing a hand down my spine, and I shivered. “Now, on the bench.”
The padded surface felt cool against me as I positioned myself face down. Ricard helped arrange my limbs, then came the straps—soft leather securing my wrists and ankles while holding me exposed and vulnerable.
My heart raced. Tugging against the restraints, I realized I couldn't move much. I was completely at his mercy. And hell, that thought sent another rush of excitement through me, my cock straining where it was trapped against the bench.
But it wasn't just my body that felt exposed. It was like all my defenses were coming down too. Since Casey's accident, I'd been the one in control, the responsible one holding everything together, making all the decisions, carrying all the weight. For the past year, I'd been everyone else's rock.
But here, bound and helpless, I didn't have to be strong. Didn't have to pretend I knew what I was doing. Didn't have to worry about making the right call or being enough for everyone who needed me. For these moments, stripped of choice and responsibility, I couldjust... exist.
And there was something weirdly freeing about that, something that went way beyond sex. The physical restraints were somehow releasing emotional ones I'd been carrying for so long I'd forgotten they were there.
“Are you comfortable?” Ricard asked, his hand resting gently on my lower back.
The question almost made me laugh. Comfortable? I was strapped naked to a sex bench. But somehow, yes, in the ways that mattered most, I felt more comfortable, more myself, than I had in forever. “Yes.”
Ricard stepped back for a moment. I could hear him shucking off his clothes, and just that sound made my body respond. When he returned, his hands were warm and familiar as they glided down my back, over my ass, and along my inner thighs. I couldn’t hold back a soft moan.
“So responsive,” he said, admiration lacing his voice. “So eager for me.”
Ricard's hands explored my body, teasing every sensitive spot. When his fingers brushed over my entrance, I gasped. I instinctively tried to push back against the touch, but the restraints held me firm. I heard the snap of a bottle and then felt the coolness of lube as he circled around my entrance with his fingers, teasing before he slowly pushed one inside. I moaned at the feeling, the sound bouncing off the walls.
“Look at you,” Ricard said, his voice deepening, filled with heat. “Taking my finger so well. So greedy for it.”
His words, the raw desire in his voice—it was doing something to me. Yeah, he might be the one physically in control right now, but the effect I was having on him was obvious. There was power in that, inknowing this actual royalty was completely focused on me, desperate for my reactions, hungry for my pleasure.
He worked me open slowly, adding a second finger, then a third, stretching me with careful precision until I was writhing against the restraints, desperate for more. The stretch burned, but it was a sweet burn, coaxing more pleasure from deep within me.
“Please,” I managed to gasp out, knowing exactly what the word would do to him.
I heard his breath catch, felt his fingers falter. I couldn't move an inch, completely at his mercy. But emotionally? I was realizing I had a different kind of power over him, one that had nothing to do with restraints or commands, but with whatever was developing between us that went beyond client and companion.
