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Her breath hitched at the thought, dread filling her but she nodded. “Yes.”
“And if I invited people here to watch this, you’d trust me?”
“Yes.”
“And if I slipped something in your drink, still?”
She looked deep into his eyes, knowing he knew that being drugged was a worse memory for her. She swallowed but nodded.
“Fuck, Lyla,” he groaned, thrusting so hard inside her she almost blacked out. “Nothing gets me like your trust. Nothing.”
“I trust you,” she breathed, and felt his response in a full body shudder, one that seeped into her as he proceeded to undo her. She turned back to the glass, watching the debauchery all around her, and for the first time in a long time, felt happy about being owned.
