He leads me back into the bedroom, and I wonder if he's going to fuck me, or tie me up, or put his hands on my throat and drive his cock deep into me.
I want all of those things, but more than anything, I want to trust him.
The realization stops me short.
I want to trust him.
I've never wanted that before. I've never felt that with anyone else.
Maybe because I've never been in a position where someone's given me a reason to.
But with Luca, there's a chance.
"Lie down," he says, his voice calm, controlled.
I climb onto the bed and lie back against the pillows.
He walks to the drawer and takes out a long coil of silky rope.
"I'm going to tie your wrists and ankles to the bed, Bella," he explains. "So you can't move."
My heart races.
"Do you consent?"
I lick my lips and nod.
"Tell me, Elena."
"Yes," I say. "I consent."
He smiles at me, a smile of approval. "Brava, ragazza."
My chest fills with warmth, and I realize how badly I want him to like me. To approve of me.
To care about me.
I watch him as he unwinds the rope, his movements precise. He loops it around my ankle and then ties it to the bedpost.
"Too tight?"
"No."
"Good."
He does the same to the other, and then moves to the bed, and does the same to my wrists, mindful of the clicker still wrapped around one of them.
I tug experimentally, but I'm held fast.
"Test the rope. Does it hurt?"
"No."
"Good. You will use the clicker when you want me to stop," he says.
"No safe word?" I ask, then flush at his lifted brow.
So, maybe I've done a little research over the past few weeks.
