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But it’s also kind of fucking amusing to watch him figure it out on his own.

Flash.

He gets back into it, pulling against his binds as he eyes the camera now and then. No matter what direction his face turns, it’s a perfect spread of eyes and sharp jawline and beauty. Even when I don’t get a shot of his gaze, capturing his frustration as he looks off at one of his bound appendages carries perfectly into every snap of the camera.

He lets out one soft, unintelligible moan as he tries to work his lips around the gag, then screws up his forehead as he looks at me again, his blue eyes burning like bright, desperate sapphires.

Goddamn. Why do I find his cluelessness and innocence so fucking hot?

I lower the camera. “I was like you once.”

Tye stops moving and his eyes lock onto mine, focused. His eyebrows pull together, making his forehead wrinkle up, his eyes sparkling.

“It wasn’t in a sling,” I then add. “It was some guy’s apartment, a guy I met online and agreed to meet. The safe word was ‘enough’ … which is a bit funny in retrospect.” I stand between Tye’s spread legs, staring down his body at his face. “Because no matter what in hell we did, it was never enough.”

Tye just listens, clearly incapable of replying in any understandable form.

“But I had no idea what I was getting myself into.” I take another step, putting my body right at his crotch, looking down at him, as if from a tower. “It opened a window for me. It made me realize that we’re more than just our secrets. It gave me a view into the inner desires of people … the hidden things we crave … but can’t bear to ask for.”

“Mmm-hmm-mm-mmph?”

I allow myself a moment to enjoy the adorable, sexy effort of him trying to talk around that fat ball in his mouth. Then I come up to him, loosen the strap, and let the gag drop from his wet, shiny lips. “What was that?”

“I was trying to ask … Fuck, that thing stretches my jaw … trying to ask what hidden thing you crave.”

His question is a bolt of lightning through all of my bones. I’m struck by it, as if I’ve never been asked that before, despite having been asked that in so many different ways all my life.

Maybe it just depended all along on who was asking. “You’re asking what I secretly crave …?”

“Yeah. Is that okay?” Then he clears his throat, as if suddenly embarrassed for acting meek, and in a more emboldened tone, he adds, “I mean, you’ve deduced so much about me in this short amount of time you’ve known me. Why not open yourself up a bit, too? Who’s …” He squints curiously at me. “Who’s Dante, behind the lens?”

It’s only now that I realize how desperately my heart is beating right now.

Throbbing.

Is that terror or excitement I’m feeling?

“I’m an open book,” I answer finally, keeping in control of myself.

“Open book …?” He frowns, appearing almost smug for a moment. “Why do I get the idea that even you know you’re lying to yourself?”

My grip on my camera tightens.

“Though …” Tye shrugs, causing the sling to squeak lightly. “I guess when I first came here, uh, a couple weeks ago, your door was cracked a bit open … ready for anyone to just walk right in.”

“My last client forgot to shut it all the way,” I nearly growl, irritably remembering Garret Haines.

“Right, but … you could have checked.”

“So?”

“So I think that says something.”

“Says what?”

Tye inclines his head ever so slightly. “That maybe for as careful as you allege you are, you’ve secretly just been … waiting for someone to walk right into your life.”

I lower my camera, staring at him hard.

He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth as he studies my reaction to his words.

I want to suck on that lip so fucking bad.

I want him. I want every part of him. I want to keep him bound to this sling as long as he’ll let me—but naked. I want him to be my toy and my little demon and my lover I can have my way with.

I want Tye.

“I don’t think you’re an open book at all,” he goes on. “I think you’re a closed one, but you got a big fat note on the cover that says, ‘OPEN ME’. All I’m saying is …” He pulls on his left hand, then his left leg. The sling squirms with his sexy, slender body. His toned arms bulge. His pits deepen and flex with his movement. “All I’m saying is … I want to know what your hidden craving is. I want to know what you can’t bear to ask for.”

Isn’t that the point of a hidden craving?

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