Page 13 of Finally, His

Had he cut it cooking? She couldn’t picture him in a kitchen. Someone would cook for him. She could do that.

Or some accident like working on his car? He would be a man who would work on his own car.

They really knew so little of each other. Yet it didn’t seem to matter.

The elevator stopped with a thunk. They’d traveled two floors down and exited into a concrete hallway with plush Oriental rug runners and sconces lining the walls.

Three men in black were the only people she could see. Two stood, each flanking a different door. The third sat in a chair at the end of the hallway before a set of double doors. He rose as they approached.

Griffin nodded to the man, who drew out a set of keys and unlocked the door.

“Programming?” Griffin asked.

A curt nod from the man followed. “Yes, sir.”

“Very good.”

He signaled for her to step inside.

Blackness filled her sight, her heel clicks echoing against unseen surfaces as she stepped deeper within. Bits of light shone in ribbons and seemed to glide in the air. It wasn’t until her eyes adjusted she understood long swaths of shiny silk hung from round hooks in the ceiling, catching the hallway light.

The room was large, about twenty feet by twenty feet, and half a dozen waterfalls of parachute silk made a forest of fabric that swayed slowly in some unseen breeze, probably from the room’s air ducts.

It was oddly beautiful and stark.

“Lights.”

At the sound of his voice, a glow of red rose from the floor, along the floor and ceiling edges, and from above. In the center of the room, gleaming in the red light, was a metal sawhorse, holes punched in its surface every few inches. Carabiners hung haphazardly from a few of them.

The piece was terrifying in its simplicity—and electrifying in its obvious uses.

“Your safeword has been programmed into the system. If you say it and I don’t let the DM outside know we’ve stopped—”

“They’ll storm the room?”

His lips stretched wide into a smile, and he cupped her chin. “Something like that. And no interruptions, Colette, or you’ll get a special punishment.”

Special. He made everything sound delicious.

“And no, you won’t like it.”

Damn, he read her mind. He’d probably make her wait another week to come, which would just about kill her dead.

“Take off your clothes. And don’t be neat about it. Keep the heels on.”

There was no place to put them, so she shimmied out of her knit dress and let it puddle on the floor. She’d long given up wearing panties around him and opted not to even wear a bra, so after the dress hit the concrete floor, she was nude, save for her black strapped heels.

At some point, showing off her body became de rigueur. He’d had his fingers in her, eyed her bare pussy, and had his hands everywhere he could reach.

“Take a walk around the room. I want to watch you.”

She trailed her hand along the nearest wall, her fingers meeting black lacquered drawer pulls and knobs. The recessed cabinets and drawers were so seamlessly part of the walls if she hadn’t touched them, she might not have seen them at all.

“Silks up and open wall,” he said. The whine of an engine was quickly followed by fabric rustling. Long black curtains along the other three walls retracted to the corners while the long swaths of parachute silk rose to create graceful arcs like bunting in the sky.

From every angle, her face stared back at her in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors.

His nostrils flared in his reflection. “I will see every inch of you now.”

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