He lifts my hands to his mouth and kisses my knuckles. "Good girl."
The praise warms me from the inside out. Not shame. Not the twisted echo of what Craig used to say. Just warmth. Approval. Safety.
"Stand up."
I do.
"Take off your clothes. Slowly. I want to watch."
My fingers tremble as I reach for the hem of my sweater, but not from fear. From anticipation. I pull it over my head and let it fall to the floor. My bra follows, the clasp releasing with a soft click. Then my jeans, sliding down my hips, pooling at my ankles. I step out of them. My underwear is last—I hook my thumbs in the waistband and push them down, standing bare before him.
His eyes travel over me, dark and hungry but patient. Appreciative without being predatory.
"Beautiful," he murmurs. "Turn around. Slowly."
I rotate, feeling his gaze on every inch of my skin. When I'm facing him again, there's a flush of heat across my chest that has nothing to do with embarrassment.
"On the bed. Face up. Arms above your head."
I obey, settling onto the cool sheets, stretching my arms toward the headboard. Will moves to the wall and returns with a set of leather cuffs lined with soft fabric. He fastens them around my wrists with practiced efficiency, then clips them to a point above the headboard.
"Pull."
I do. There's no give. I'm pinned in place.
"How does that feel?"
I test the restraints again, feeling the leather hold firm against my straining wrists. "Vulnerable."
"Is that a problem?"
"No." And it isn't. Not with him watching me like I'm something precious. "It feels right."
"Color?"
"Green."
He smiles, slow and predatory, and heat pools between my thighs. "Then we're just getting started."
He doesn't touch me right away. He stands at the edge of the bed, fully clothed, just looking. The anticipation builds with every second, my skin prickling with awareness, my nipples hardening under his gaze alone.
"You're already responding," he observes. "Just from me watching you."
"Yes."
"Yes, what?"
I hesitate, unsure what he wants. "Yes... Sir?"
"Sir is fine. For now. When I earn it, and when we're playing, I prefer Master." He reaches out and traces one finger down the center of my body, from the hollow of my throat to my navel. I shiver. "But I like that you asked."
He circles my nipple without touching it, close enough that I can feel the heat of his finger. I arch toward him, desperate for contact.
"Stay still."
I force my body back down, trembling with the effort.
"Good girl." He rewards me by pinching my nipple, a sharp twist that sends a bolt of sensation straight to my core. I gasp. "You like that?"
