Page 33 of Finally, His

A man, blindfolded, kneeled five feet before Alexander. Another young man with a toss of dark hair over his forehead was bent at the waist. Whatever the guy said, it elicited quite a reaction from the lucky bastard showing himself off to Alexander. The blindfolded one shuddered from head to foot.

Rebecca dropped his hand, marched up to Alexander, and hard-dropped to the pillow beside his chair. She bent her head. Alexander didn’t flinch at the intrusion. Mild but still an interruption.

“Can we talk?” she mouthed. Still no response. His eyes remained firmly aimed at the scene unfolding. It was only when the woman in the corner loudly moaned did he raise his chin. Blinked twice.

Rebecca inched closer and laid her head on his knee. Her hand reached for his shoe, an expensive pair of Italian leather loafers. Eric swallowed hard when Rebecca snaked her hand up under his trouser leg. What was she doing?

Eric only had to move six inches to the left to see Alexander’s face in a mirror reflection—a large, ungodly thing with a thick gold frame.

Rebecca opened her mouth to speak, and Alexander raised his index finger. “Stop,” he said to Rebecca. At least, that was what Eric thought he said. He’d read the man’s lips.

In true Rebecca fashion, she didn’t stop, however. She pushed off the floor, rose, and circled behind the chair. She placed her hands on Alexander’s shoulders, leaned down, and ran her hands down his chest. One hand slipped inside his shirt. She then mouthed something in his ear that Eric couldn’t hear or lip-read.

His icy blue eyes remained fixed on the couple before him.

Eric had spent countless hours studying Alexander’s cues. The set of his jaw, the way his right pinky finger and ring finger rubbed together to move the ring on his hand. There was one subtle gesture Eric would avoid at all costs—a small muscle in his left cheek that throbbed when displeased. Alexander’s chest expanded in a long inhale. And that muscle? A slight twitch formed.

When Alexander raised another finger, the dark-haired man nodded once at him. Alexander then divested himself of Rebecca’s hands and rose from the chair. “Rebecca, here.”

Alexander stripped people bare with his penetrating gaze, no matter the scenario. It gave nothing away yet said everything at once. It was as if he knew things—things about you. But now? His eyes fired like blue lightning. Skin-searing. Bone-boiling. It’d stop the earth from rotating.

Rebecca had overplayed her hand, interrupting him. And why the devil was it so important to have broached the subject of starting a mentorship program immediately? The man was busy. He wanted the man’s attention, but it was too much.

Eric could spin on his heel and head upstairs. Let her deal with the consequences. Or should he stay? He never failed to worry about her. She was so reckless sometimes. Impatient. Demanding.

Other times, she came across like a little bird, delicate, as if she might snap if handled too harshly. He’d yet to see what constituted “too harsh,” however. She’d often told him and Alexander they did nothing with her she didn’t crave.

He slunk along the inside of the library. When he could finally see Alexander’s face, the man’s eyes sliced to him for a moment, then back to Rebecca, who circled to face him. She smiled up at him. Devious. Not at all sorry.

He gazed down at her. “Someone interested in play?”

“Yes, please.”

His large hand descended on her cheek. His fingers then raked backward to grab a fistful of her hair. He yanked her head back, and her lips dropped open. He half dragged, half led her around to the back of the chair. Then he unceremoniously pushed her forward so her body had no choice but to drape over the back of the chair.

“So watch.” He kicked her legs wider, making her splay her palms on the seat cushion to keep from face-planting. He then positioned himself between her legs but didn’t touch a single part of her. “Eyes on the scene, Rebecca. Maybe you’ll learn something.”

Rebecca’s eyes glanced upward at Eric. He’d slunk so far around the librarythat he was startled when his back hit theold library ladder that rested against the tall bookshelves. He leaned against the sturdy wood thing.

He didn’t know where to look. The scenes unfolding around him? Because any order Alexander gave Rebecca, he often obeyed in solidarity. It had become a natural state—the partnership between him and Rebecca with one sole goal—love Alexander, abide by Alexander.

Or perhaps he should watch the man himself? Eric flushed from head to toe at witnessing Alexander in his element, like a schoolboy. It was all that talk about painting his portrait and the reasons he’d always fail at it.

Rebecca’s gray eyes caught his once more, and she mouthed one word.“Draw.”

Ah, the devil’s mistress had nothing on her. She was trying to inspire him, perhaps?

Still, why not? It would be futile, but at least it’d give his hands something to do other than drift places it should not, like his hardening cock.

He reached into his back pocket and drew out the small notebook. Then into his jacket pocket. He found an ink pen. Not at all what he should use, but no one had to see the scribbles.

“Are you watching, Rebecca?” Alexander’s words cut into the air. He wasn’t looking at her. Rather his gaze wandered around the room as if taking in all the scenes. Like the strongest oak standing in a forest of saplings.

When she didn’t answer his question, his large hand reached out and slapped her on the ass. The smack, muffled a bit by her pants, reverberated around the room.

She inhaled sharply. “Yes, Sir. What would you like me to see?”

His brow furrowed. Displeased with her question? The lines softened across his forehead. “See what I see. Power. Pain. Pleasure.Discipline.”

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