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He stares while I strip, but if the sight of me naked arouses him, he doesn’t let on at all, he only watches, like he’s making sure I obey. When I’m standing before him naked and a little cold, he nods.
In two steps, he enters the tiny bathroom and grabs my wrist. I trot to keep up as he drags me into the bedroom, snaps his wrist, and releases a length of long rope.
I grit my teeth.
“Now then. Hands in front of you.”
I obey. With every second that passes, my apprehension grows. If he crosses a certain line, I may have to tell him everything.
I can’t.
I won’t.
“Good. Now, let’s see what we can get from you.”
When he arranges me on the bed like I’m an article of clothing, I close my eyes and try to put on a brave face. It’s not like he hasn’t done this exact thing before. I’ve always loved being at his mercy.
But that was when I trusted him.
That was whenhetrustedme.
And that makes all the difference.
The bed pressing up against my naked belly, that coiled leather at the ready, I expect him to spank me, but he doesn’t. Instead, he spreads my legs and reaches between them. I gasp when he fingers my sex and spreads me wide open. He’s got some kind of gel on his fingers he spreads liberally all over me like he’s lubricating me, but soon, I know that’s not what this is. A warming, tingling sensation spreads throughout my sex until my entire lower body feels like he’s been torturing me with foreplay for hours.
“Oh, how nice,” I snap. “You know how to get me all aroused with literally no effort on your part. If that’s not the most masculine thing I’ve ever—”
A sharpthwackhits my ass.
“No more of your back talk. Open your mouth again, and I’ll gag you with my cock until you shut up.”
I press my lips together and rant in my head instead, because I am very well aware of the fact that he’s fully prepared to make good on his promise.
His hands are on my hips. I close my eyes as a rush of unexpected emotion chokes me. The warmth of his hand, the power of his touch. All I’d need is his mouth at my ear whispering sweet nothings and I’d be right back at Le Luxe, having the most amazing sex of my entire life.
If he likes the way I feel at his mercy, he hides it well. He’s a man on a mission and nothing’s going to sway him.
Nothing.
I gasp when he strokes my pussy, hard and fast. No warning, no foreplay, but it doesn’t matter. That gel did its job, and I’m so aroused my hips jerk with the first spasm of orgasm.
“Good to know this shit works,” he mutters, which would be cute if he wasn’t an asshole.
And then he’s gone. His warmth. His body. Those fingers that I need between my legs before I pass out.
My body pulses with need and want, stronger than anything I’ve ever felt before. My clit throbs. Even the walls of my sex ache as if I need to be filled by him. I whimper when I feel something hard and cold where his fingers once were. It begins to vibrate, and I come apart. I climax so hard I scream, though no one can hear me. I’m wrecked from spasms of heat and pleasure, my back arching so long and tightly it hurts.
And then there’s no more pleasure, only a sensitive clit and the continuous vibration.
“Lyam,” I gasp. “Please. Make it stop.”
He sits on the edge of the bed. How is he doing that? He isn’t holding the vibrator any longer. The jerkface has some kind of contraption set up so it stays in place. Lovely.
My hips jerk and I need the sensation to stop. “Lyam—”
“Tell me.”
“No.”
