Page 26 of His Innocent Seduction

‘I need you to say yes to this,’ he drawls, the teasing glint in his eyes showing he knows why I can’t speak, and that it has nothing to do with a lack of consent and agreement.

‘Yes. A thousand times yes, maestro.’ I laugh. ‘I really did pick my teacher wisely, didn’t I?’

His smile flickers across his face. But, before he lifts the fabric over my eyes, I see a case behind him, on the tall chest of drawers across the room. Handcuffs.

And not just handcuffs.

Shooting him a look of curiosity, I move closer and my blood gushes so loudly I can hear it in my ears like a raging torrent.

The box is small, a shining black, highly sheened dark wood. The handcuffs are most prominent against the burgundy velvet base. But there are other things too. I reach for one.

A leather braid, with tassels at the end. A whip, I’m certain of it. I run my fingers over the strands, my pulse hammering harder.

I place it beside the box, then reach for something else. Something smaller.

It’s a gem on one side, like an enormous diamond —surely it’s not, though?—and on the other there’s an arrow, about half the size of my thumb. I run my finger over it uncertainly. ‘What’s this?’

His smile shows amusement. ‘You really want to know?’

I nod slowly. He closes the distance between us, reaching out and taking it from me.

‘It’s a butt plug.’

I don’t know how to react to that.

I mean, I’ve heard of them, obviously. But I’d never imagined it would be so...cute. And pretty. I arch a brow, pretending I’m not already imagining him wanting to use that on me, pretending I’m totally au fait with all of this when we both know otherwise. But then I laugh, a shaky laugh. ‘And?’

He grins. ‘Not for you. Not for tonight.’

It’s funny, the surge of disappointment inside me. ‘You don’t think I’m butt plug material?’

‘Do you think you are?’

I look at it again; my insides fire. ‘I...am all about new experiences,’ I say simply.

He smiles lopsidedly and kisses the tip of my nose. ‘Turn around.’

I spin away from him, a smile on my lips as he secures the fabric over my eyes. Everything is absolutely black now. I stand there, waiting, uncertain, shaking a little. A minute later music fills the room. Soft music. I think it’s French rap, but it’s quiet and compelling with a heavy bass undertone that’s really hot.

I feel like I’m in a movie. A dirty one—not that I’ve ever watched one of those but I imagine they must be something like this.

‘Well?’ I ask huskily, the word breathing into the room.

Nothing.

I bite down on my lip, impatience unbearable. ‘I hope you’re not going to keep me waiting, Michael...’

* * *

I stare at her, glued to where I’m standing, taking a mental picture, committing this to memory.

She looks...like an angel. An angel who’s begged me to teach her about sex. Who wants to be fucked by me. Who wants anything I give her.

I’m still hard from her butt plug comment. Hell, I’m still hard from the other night. I bought this little box of sexual tricks with Millie in mind, but I told myself we’d wait until New York. I told myself I’d wait to make sure she was up for it.

And the box came with the butt plug, and the whip—I didn’t specifically buy them thinking we’d use them.

And yet here she is, blindfolded in my bedroom, her body covered in goosebumps, her full, cherry-red lips parted expectantly.

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