I rattle the restraints. “I’m scared.”
Trick drops to a knee, so our faces are close, our eyes locked. “There’s no halfway,” he whispers. “If you’re one of us, then I’d do anything for you. And you’d do anything for me. I proved myself to you. It’s your turn. Be a good girl.”
I squeeze my eyes closed. “I’m scared.”
“Fear’s there to be conquered.”
“Zoe,” C says softly. “It’s all right. You don’t need to do anything—”
“C,” Trick admonishes.
“Fuck off, Trick,” Connor grinds out. “It’s too fucking much. Uncuff her, ‘Vil.”
When I’m uncuffed, I scramble up, still trying to catch my breath. Connor tries to pull me into his arms, but I resist. “No, don’t. Not yet.” I look at the restraints and then at Trick. “I wasn’t ready.”
“You ready now?” he asks.
I’m shaking so hard my teeth practically rattle. “I think so. Yes.”
Anvil takes the bar away. “It’s overkill anyway. Tie her wrists behind her with some silk. There’s no escape unless we allow it. Figging’s enough. No need for a bar.”
“Then you’re in charge of holding her when she wiggles all over the bed,” Trick says.
“I will be in charge of that,” Anvil agrees. “I’m not fucking lazy.” Anvil hauls his shirt over his head.
I gasp. In the lit room, when Anvil flexes, he doesn’t even look human. Cyborg terminator, maybe.
“Back up, C. Let us do this,” Anvil said, pulling a blade from a pocket on the side of his cargo pants. “Let me,” he says, his glacial blue eyes holding mine.
I don’t know what he’s going to do, but I force myself to be still. He grips the front of my tank and scores the fabric with the tip of the blade. Then he grabs the side of my shorts and cuts them. He slides the blade away and then with small jerks, rips the fabric. My clothes drop away.
Anvil takes a step back, looking me over. “Yeah. Beautiful.”
“Is everyone going to be naked?” I demand, holding my hand over my shaved pussy. I’m blushing what must be a shade of maroon.
“If the situation calls for it,” Trick says. “But only then.”
My mind races. Exactly what does that mean?
Trick goes into the bathroom and runs the piece of carved ginger under water. Anvil sits on the bed, sets a couple of pillows on his lap, and gestures to them.
I swallow, close to hyperventilating, but move mechanically to him. My voice is unsteady, but I manage to meet his eyes. “I know how strong you are. You don’t have to prove it.”
“On your body? Never,” Anvil says.
I lie across his lap, so the pillows are under my belly.
“Forward. The pillows under your hips,” Anvil says.
I raise onto my elbows and knees, inching forward, and then lower myself. My ass is now the highest point and I’m sure my pussy is peeking out from between my legs.
“Good,” Trick says. “Open her.”
Strong fingers grip each buttock and pull them, making my crease yawn, exposing me completely. I can’t help it; a ragged sound of indignation escapes.
I feel the ginger finger probe my little asshole. “Hang on,” I say, jerking forward.
Anvil’s big paw slaps my ass. “Be good.”
