Butterflies swirl in my stomach, and he sits back on the couch. “Or we do it my way.”
“What’s your way?” I whisper breathlessly. I can’t afford to be out that long. I have plans tonight, and if I don’t show up, they will come here lookingfor me. The last thing I need is them finding me naked and hog-tied at this Lord’s feet.
“Come here,” he commands, and I know it’s the only answer I’m going to get. He wants me to submit. Willingly.
The two words are like a shot of adrenaline to my body. I can’t fight it. I slowly walk over to him, and he gets to his feet. His eyes are on mine as he reaches up and slides his finger into the collar of my dress, softly caressing my heated skin.
I drop my gaze to his chest, unable to look at him. It’s been so long since I’ve been touched, but my body remembers what it felt like.
“Eyes on mine, Eve.”
I meet his intent stare, and he runs his free hand over my racing pulse. “When I’m touching you, you look at me. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.” The words are automatic, and they disgust me. What he’s able to do in a matter of seconds… I’ve become the old me. The one who sits, crawls, and begs for attention. The one who was helpless and trapped.
I swore I’d never go back to that, yet here I am. I guess no amount of time can change someone. I’ll be his whore, and he’ll use me however he wants.
“Go get the handcuffs.” He drops his hands from my body.
I turn and close the small distance between me and the desk, picking them up. Walking back to him, I hold them out. He takes them and says, “Get undressed.”
I’m on autopilot. He’s in full control. I’m just a willing servant at this point. A light switch flipped on, and a sour taste fills my mouth at what I’m about to let him do.
Reaching down, I grab the hem of my dress and pull it up and over my head before tossing it to the side. I hook my fingers into the waistband of my thong and push it down.
“Leave the heels on,” he orders, and I clear my throat. “Turn around.”
I’m glad to oblige and take a shaky breath when I have a second to look at anything but him. I place my hands behind my back without being told—I know what he wants.
“Good girl,” he praises me, securing my wrists in the cuffs. The sound of them clicking in place is deafening as they secure my hands behind my back. There’s no going back. No escaping them. I hate that it feels like home. I spent so much time like this and have allowed him to knock me back years in a matter of seconds.
I should be ashamed. Pathetic and weak.
“Face me.”
I bow my head, doing as I’m told. He’s sitting down on the couch once more, and I stare at his jeans. My body shakes, my breathing is labored, and my heart is pounding.
He leans forward, dropping his hand to my ankle, and gently touches his tatted knuckles to my skin. I jump from the initial contact. I immediately findhis eyes, remembering his rule.When I’m touching you, you look at me.He doesn’t look surprised or amused by my unease. He slowly runs his knuckles up the inside of my thigh while staring up at me.
My legs tremble at the softness. The tenderness in his touch. I’m waiting for a slap or to be thrown onto the floor. He glances over my heaving chest, my hard nipples.
“Kashton,” I whisper, though I’m not even sure why I said it or what I want to say.
“Yeah, angel?” He runs two fingers over my pussy, and my hips rock forward on their own.
That burning sensation covers my skin. As if I’ve been doused with gasoline and lit on fire. I’m fucking sweating standing here in nothing other than my heels while trying to catch my breath.
“You’re soaked, Eve.” He pushes two fingers between my legs but doesn’t enter my pussy. He doesn’t have to. “Just like the last time I had you naked.” Pulling his hand back, he runs his fingers down my inner thigh, leaving a trail of wetness, almost daring me to deny it.
Dropping his hand, he undoes his belt and slides it free from his jeans in a full, smooth swoop.
“Straddle my legs,” he orders, and I slide onto the couch, forcing my shaking legs farther apart to do as he says. I’m embarrassed by how sweaty my legs are against the roughness of his jeans. “Why are you shaking, Eve?” he asks.
I can’t answer. My tongue is too heavy.
“Hmm? I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to play with you.”
I whimper, and he smiles, placing the belt around my neck and looping it through the buckle before pulling it tight. I swallow to see how much space he leaves me to breathe. Not much, and it makes me moan.
