“Silly girl. As if you have a choice.”
He’s sliding out of his suit jacket, his eyes fixed on me. Silky fabric on the edge of a chair. Sleeves rolled up to the elbow, revealing strong, powerful forearms. Hands that dwarf mine, reaching for the clasp of his belt. I pedal backward. If he takes his belt off…
“On the bed,” he commands, tugging his belt through the loops of his pants and folding it over. He points to the bed with the folded leather. “Now.”
Somehow, I obey. Is “his lash” his belt? It hurts so much.
“Remove all your clothing, and hand it to me,” he instructs. Standing to the side of the bed with his arms crossed on his chest, he points. “When you’re stripped, I want your hands on the bedpost.”
When I’m naked, will he whip me? I freeze. I can’t move. I’m terrified of what he’ll do to me. How stupid I’ve been.
“Kazimir,” I say, shaking my head. My gown hangs down around me and I’m on my hands and knees on the huge bed. “No, I can’t. Please don’t—”
His belt swishes through the air so quickly I don’t have time to react. A line of fire lights up my backside and I scream out loud.
“Now.”
I reach for the hem of my dress quickly, my hands shaking. I don’t want him to hurt me, and he’s so close, holding his weapon in hand, he very well may. I tear at the clothing, every twist and turn making the metal in my ass feel deeper. I’m full. So full.
The dress comes off easier than I expected. I fold it hastily, hand it to him, then remove my silky undergarments. He says nothing, just takes the clothes silently. When I’m naked, he points his belt to the bedpost, and I can tell from the way his jaw clenches, this is my only reminder.
I freeze, waiting for the belt to strike again, and jump when I feel him beside me. He takes his belt and loops it around the post, fastening my wrists. I blink in surprise, watching as he expertly weaves the leather in an intricate knot, my hands secure but comfortable. I’m kneeling, my hands restrained, my ass still burning from the lick of his belt. He no longer holds the belt, though, as he’s restrained me with it instead of striking me again.
What will he do next?
“Bow your head, Sadie. You won’t be able to unfasten your wrists. When I start, there will be no way to stop me. So the sooner you decide to surrender, the longer you’ll enjoy yourself.”
When he starts? What was this, then?
I nod. A firm pinch to my naked bottom makes me amend my response. “Yes, sir,” I manage to croak out. He pats my ass almost affectionately.
I have read the wrong romance books. The wrong damn ones. I’ve been spending all my time in regencies and contemporary comedy, when I should have been reading the ones with the handcuffs on them.
Are those even the right ones? I always had a vague idea that the play in those books was consensual.
This is nothing of the sort.
Kazimir stalks past me and heads to the large closet to the right of the bed. I try to turn my head to look, but can’t turn enough to see. Instead, I wait. I let myself feel the cold leather on my wrists, inhaling the fragrant, rich scent. I let my eyes fall closed so I can focus better on what else I feel. I’m warm, despite having no clothes on. He must keep the temperature regulated.
And deep inside I know I’m one defiant step away from incurring his anger, and something tells me I don’t want to anger him.
But there’s more to it. Between my legs, pressure builds, hot and insistent. Instinctively, my body knows this is something more than what I’ve experienced before. That he could teach me oh so many things—pleasure. Pain. I’ve read about sex so many times, I’ve almost convinced myself I know what it feels like. But I don’t. Hell, I don’t have the first clue. I’ve never… climaxed before.
I can hear him walking around the bed, as he takes in every detail of the scene in front of him. I’m glad he’s made me bow my head. I have to close my eyes. Knowing I’m helpless to him and utterly naked makes me quake with nerves. It isn’t fair. I do my best to hide from people, and he’s taken that from me.
I lose track of time as he circles me. With my eyes closed, I try to take in every detail I can. A drawer opens and closes. A clink of metal. Steps retreating, a door opening. Steps returning back to me, along with his heat.
“Focus.” The sound of his voice so close to me makes me jump, and my eyes fly open. He holds something gleaming in his hand that looks almost like a spur.