“You like being told what to do,” he counters back.
His head dips, burying his face into the curve of my neck, and inhales deeply.
I curl my fingers into the damp hair at the nape of his neck.
“Depends on who is doing the telling,” I breathe.
The door slides closed behind us with a soft click, sealing out the night.
But I barely register it. Right now, it’s just him and the way he holds me like I’m something worth protecting.
I surrender the control I cling to, letting him take over as he opens a door that does not lead to our bedroom.
We descend the stairs, and the second Tyler’s feet reach the bottom, he flips a switch. Neon strobes erupt to life, flooding the room with pulses of electric color and unveiling everything that had been concealed.
CHAPTER THREE
Tyler lowers me back down onto my feet.
I let my eyes adjust to the room until it takes shape around me. Tyler refers to it as ourPlayground.
Fully equipped with kinky furniture, and a considerable selection of objects ranging from impact toys to a glass cabinet full of dildos and plugs.
There’s also a full bathroom stocked with a wardrobe of uniforms for roleplay.
Off to the side, a separate room has a large four-poster bed, fitted with strap-based resistant systems for your wrists, ankles and head. A large mirror is mounted to the ceiling above it.
In our playground there’s a St. Andrew’s cross, bondage bench, a sex impaler, electric and manual hoists, a fuck bench, a queening box, a throne chair, a leather swing, a sybian saddle, and a fucking machine with an attached dildo.
My pulse thrums at twice its normal pace as I absorb the details of the room. I love sex. I’ve always craved it. Now it’s different. I need the line blurred. Pleasure balanced with something darker. Control taken from my hands and border lining pain.
He doesn’t hesitate. Tyler’s gaze darkens as it locks with mine. “Strip.”
That unwavering confidence in his tone goes directly to my pussy, leaving no doubt about what is to come next.
He claims the throne across the room, tugging his shirt over his head and discarding it, leaving his muscular chest bare with only his gray sweatpants on.
He pins me with a look, and I comply. His gaze never strays from mine, dark and intoxicating, like he’s memorizing me all over again, as though he still can’t get enough of me. My skin prickles under it.
After undressing, I’m standing naked, with random flecks of dried blood marring my skin in front of him.
I bring my hand up to my hair tie and undo it, my hair cascades down, and I drop it on top of my clothes.
Our energies are in sync, playing off each other. Raw and real all at once.
“Beautiful,” he rubs the full length of his erect cock through his pants, drinking in the sight of me, “Now crawl to me.”
I sink down to my hands and knees, unhurried, every movement intentional as I keep my eyes on his.
I can already feel the wetness forming between my legs.
“That’s my good fucking girl.”
When I reach him, I kneel, head dipped, with my palms resting on my thighs, poised for his next command.
He removes another hair tie he must have slipped on his wrist and moves around me to tenderly braid my hair.
He bends over and places a blindfold in my lap.
