“Tell me...” His voice trails off, vulnerable.
I reach out slowly, placing my hand over his thundering heart. “No more pretending.”
“I’m good with that.” His eyes never leave mine. “You can do whatever you want with me.”
My lips part. “Are you sure?” It’s like I just got hit with three shots of tequila. Does he mean this? Really?
“One thousand percent,” he rasps. “You can’t break me.”
“Careful what you wish for.” I allow a small smile. “Just follow my lead.”
He nods, wonder written across his features. “Go for it.”
I feel transformed, bold in a way I’ve never been before.
“Like what you see?” he asks, a hint of his usual confidence returning.
I raise an eyebrow. “Did I say you could speak?”
His mouth snaps shut, but I can see the fire in his eyes. He looks desperate. I feel the same but... I can’t show it.
The next words. I’ve never said them to anyone before. I have thought them a hundred times at home in my bed with my wand... but to say them now in real life and to Gale Knight. This feels like magic.
“Get on your knees,” I command, adjusting my glasses.
Without hesitation, Gale sinks before me. The sight of him looking up at me from his wood floor, waiting for my next order, sends a thrill between my legs. I am already so wet that the silk from my panties sticks to my sensitive skin.
“I—”
I press a finger to his lips, tracing his perfect mouth, a mouth I have so many plans for.
“Do you have permission to talk yet?”
He shakes his head.
I shove the tip of my finger into his mouth. “Have you ever dreamed about worshipping me?”
He nods, not daring to speak without permission.
“Well,” I purr, “remember, you don’t get to touch until I say so. Your pleasure comes second to mine.”
The look of pure desire on Gale’s face nearly takes my breath away. But I hold on to my composure. Tonight, I am the hunting goddess, and he is my willing prey.
“Get up now,” I say. “Show me your bedroom.”
Years of denying myself, of seeing Gale as off-limits, has led to this moment. Sure, a part of me is still whispering doubts, but I shove them aside. I am tired—tired of the longing, tired of thewhat-ifs. Tonight, I’m taking what I want—what I need—and will deal with the consequences later.
I step into Gale’s bedroom and the scent hits me first—sun-warmed wood and worn leather, with an undercurrent of something distinctly Gale that makes my breasts feel fuller, heavier.
A California king commands the space. Across from the bed hangs a TV that could double as a home theater screen. My gaze roams, taking mental snapshots of every detail. What strikes me the most isn’t what I see, but what I don’t. No soft touches, no decorative flourishes. This is pure, unfiltered Gale. I am getting a glimpse of the man himself, stripped of his public persona and professional image. Raw and real.
I turn to face him, where he stands watching me with a mix of anticipation and uncertainty. Good. I want him off-balance.
His broad shoulders nearly fill the doorway; he’s over a foot taller than me. But there is a vulnerability in his eyes that catches me off guard. This is the real Gale, stripped of his public armor, just for me.
I can see the questions dancing behind his hooded eyes. What am I thinking? Am I impressed? Overwhelmed? Ready to bolt? His hand twitches at his side, like he wants to reach out but isn’t sure if he should.
The power dynamic between us has shifted, and we both know I hold all the cards. My next reaction will make or break whatever is building between us.
