I do as he says and lift my right foot off the cold concrete floor. He slides it on, followed by the other. He stands to his full height, and I smile nervously up at him. “My Prince Charming.”
His face is blank, his eyes void of any emotion. It makes my pulse race. He grabs my hand once again and pulls me to the center of the room.
There’s a black leather-wrapped post that stands in the middle. One vertical post with a horizonal one that sits right at my hips with my six-inch heels on.
I run my fingers along the soft leather, watching him out of the corner of my eye walk over to the far wall. He grabs some chains, a couple of belts, and then turns, opening a drawer. I can’t see what he gets out of it.
When he turns to walk back to me, my eyes snap to stare at the silver ring that hangs from the top of the vertical post that is right in front of me. My breathing picks up.
He crouches down again, behind me this time. The chain wraps around my right ankle, the coldness of it making me shiver. He picks up a short double-ended metal hook. One is connected to the floor, the free end is latched through two links that are in the chain around my ankle, securing it in place.
Standing, he goes to my other ankle. He grabs it, and pulls it farther apart, almost knocking me off my heels. I grab the post in order to keep myself from falling over as he does the same thing to the left ankle.
Standing behind me, he leans into me, and I feel his jeans rub against my ass and thighs. “Look up,” he commands.
Swallowing, I look up at the black-painted ceiling. He slides something around my throat. I feel the leather wrap around and hear him fasten it at the nape of my neck.
I try to lower my head but can’t. My hands shoot to whatever it is he put around my neck, my heart hammering in my chest. “Sin—”
“It’s a posture collar,” he interrupts me before I can ask what it is.
My hands begin to sweat, and I try to shift on my heels, but they’re tied too far apart, secured too tightly. My breathing accelerates and my pussy clenches. He’s going to make me pay. I hate that I’m excited. That I want him to mark me. As if the brand on my inner thigh will fade away.
He walks around in front of me, and I look at him over the vertical post. My heels putting my chin level with the top. He’s still got four, maybe five inches over me. Pulling another one of those double-sided metal hooks out of his pocket, I lower my eyes to watch him connect one side to the ring that hangs from the top of the post. Then he grabs my neck, pushing my head back painfully and I hear it click again.
Letting go of me, I try to pull away, but he secured the collar to the post. “Easton?” My voice shakes. My hands come up and grab at the metal hook. I try to unhook it, but he slaps my hands away.
He takes a longer chain and holds my hands in one hand while the other lays the chain across my wrists, then he brings both ends back over the center and pulls on them, securing my wrists together with one chain. He yanks on it, fastening it down to the horizontal bar that runs across my hips but on the inside of it. I’m immobile. Totally at his mercy. My pussy is wet, but my body is shaking, and I want to cry happy tears that he didn’t let me leave. That he’s going to fight for me. Force me to stay.
He stands back, his eyes running over me, and smiles.
“Please,” I whimper, trying to yank myself free, knowing I’m not going anywhere.
Stepping back into me, he tilts his head to the side. He reaches out and runs his knuckles down the side of my face. “Do you have any idea what it felt like to watch him touch you? Know that he kissed you …was going to fuck you.”
“Sin,” I lick my lips, needing to explain. “I was mad…”
“Mad?” he repeats the word, slowly nodding his head. His eyes boring into mine. “So every time you getmad, I have to expect you to throw yourself at any random guy.”
My teeth clench and my tied hands fist. “You’re cheating on me. I was just doing what I saw you do.”
“I’ve never cheated on you,” he argues.
I give a rough laugh. “Quit fucking lying to me. I saw you.”
He gives me a smile and leans in, pressing his lips to my forehead. I try to pull away from his touch but there’s nowhere for me to go. “I hate you,” I growl, yanking on my restraints, knowing it’s a lie. I don’t hate him. I love him. Even knowing that he fucked Amelia, I still want to be with him. “I fucking hate you.” I begin to cry, the bitter words hard to swallow.
“No, you don’t. Not yet anyway,” he says calmly.
“Sin,” I growl, hating that he knows me so well.
He reaches out, gripping my face, squeezing my cheeks tightly. “Just remember, little demon, that I love you. Because what I’m about to do to you has nothing to do with love.”
His hand drops from my face and I spit on him. It’s the only thing I can do at this point. It lands on his cheek and chin. I expect him to slap me, or to grab my face again, but he doesn’t. Instead, he turns his back to me.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
SIN