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But he had other plans.
He guided me along a dark corridor before opening a heavy door on the left.
I looked at him, focused on his smoldering gaze, those deep blue eyes filled with a blend of love and dominance.
Oh boy.
Then he urged me into the room and closed the door behind us.
Surrounded by complete darkness, I pressed my back against his front, my heart pounding and my breath shallow. I didn’t like the dark, had avoided it these past couple of months.
He leaned in close, his warm breath tickling my ear as he whispered, “This is the playroom. My parents thought us kids didn’t know about it, but with three adolescent boys—there’s not much you can hide.”
With a flick of a switch, the room was bathed in soft, golden lighting, illuminating an array of black furniture, a bed, a chair, a giant TV on the back wall, and a…leather sling?
Glass shelves lined the walls and showcased an array of BDSM equipment that I’d only ever seen in movies—well, one movie to be exact.
Heat rose in my cheeks as my gaze wandered over cuffs, dildos, and nipple clamps laid out like jewelry.
Holy shit.
Intricate ropes, whips, and various restraints glistened under the soft glow, their presence both intimidating and captivating. It felt high class and expensive, and I couldn’t help but feel both curious and afraid.
“Wow.” I breathed out, my heart pounding with a mix of fear and curiosity.
As my eyes met Gabe’s again, he was close, stroking my arm in a tender gesture of support as if he’d sensed my apprehension. “We’re playing it completely safe for the baby…and you,” he assured me, his eyes locked on mine.
I could see the love and devotion shimmering in them.
He led me to the full-body leather sling.
I bit my lip. It resembled a hammock chair, if not for the leather, chains, and D-rings.
I shook with both worry and anticipation when he turned me to face him.
“Stay still.”
His command, the dominance in his voice, stirred something primal within me—a need to submit to him, a need to see how far he would take this.
He undressed me, his fingers slowly unbuttoning my blouse and slipping it off my shoulders, revealing my heavy breasts beneath my bra.
His touch was sensual and deliberate, then he turned me around, and pressed himself against my back, his cock against my ass.
“So fucking beautiful.”
He skimmed his fingertips over my skin in a sensual caress, sending shivers down my spine and my heartbeat into a frenzy.
He growled, deep in his throat, when he traced the lines of my healed scars, reminding me of his protectiveness, the love, and care with which he’d treated me right from the very beginning.
Was all of this his way of erasing the painful memories they held?
Was this his attempt to free me from the residual trauma, by making me trust him completely?
He snapped my bra open, cupped my heavy breasts before he let his hands glide and linger over my small baby belly and farther down.
He went down on his knees and took my skirt and panties with him, then kissed the upper curve of my asscheeks. “So fucking beautiful, it hurts,” he murmured against my skin, his voice delicious and dark.
Wetness pooled between my legs.
