Just when Seven couldn’t take anymore, Enzo stood, stepping around him, leaving him standing there as he walked to his dresser, searching for something in the bottom drawer. A moment later, he was pressing against his back, slipping something over Seven’s head. A blindfold. A thick, black, velvet blindfold that blocked all light. Seven’s hands spasmed at his sides as the world went dark. Not even shadows played behind his eyelids.
“Pretty,” Enzo murmured, stroking his cheek.
Seven’s insides were shaking. Neither the porn he’d watched nor his frank discussions with Nico had prepared him for this…whatever this was Enzo was doing. Seven didn’t want this soft domming. It was supposed to hurt. It was supposed to make him forget everything.
Hewantedit to hurt.
Enzo was going to hurt him, right?
“I can hear your wheels turning from here, baby,” Enzo said, fingertips skating over his upper arms. “Not quite what you had in mind? Getting scared?”
“I’m not scared,” Seven mumbled, sounding petulant even to his own ears.
He’d asked for this. So, why did it feel like he was standing on the edge of a cliff with Enzo gently coaxing him closer, whispering sweet nothings while nudging him toward the fall?
“That’s good,” Enzo said, lips brushing Seven’s jaw. “On the bed, brat baby. Hands and knees.”
Seven willed his limbs to comply, but he had no idea what to expect now that Enzo wasn’t playing by the rules as he expected. He stumbled, knees knocking into the mattress. Enzo didn’t right him or help him, just let him struggle as he crawled up onto the bed, horribly overexposed without his clothes or his vision.
He jumped as Enzo’s fingertips dragged up his inner thigh, his ears burning at the older man’s soft chuckle.
“Legs open, pretty boy.”
Seven frowned. Nico had said that when Mal punished him, his voice would grow cold, distant, devoid of emotion. But Enzo’s voice was nothing like that. His silky tone was confusing, enticing, like the devil whispering in his ear. Sexy and a little condescending.
Without his sight, Seven had no idea what to expect or when to expect it. Every other sense was heightened, but it didn’t matter at all. He was still in the dark.
He widened his legs until it seemed lewd, tongue licking out to dart over his lower lip. “Like this?”
“Did I give you permission to speak?” Enzo asked softly, lips warm where they skimmed over his ass cheek, making Seven jump.
“No, Daddy.”
“Then hush.”
It was on the tip of Seven’s tongue to say, “Yes, Daddy,” but he knew that would only compound his troubles.
“Chest against the mattress,” Enzo instructed.
Seven sank down, his ass in the air. Yeah, no. It was so much worse when he couldn’t see Enzo’s expression, when he couldn’t tell if he was doing well. If he was pleased with him.
Enzo’s fingers danced along Seven’s spine. “Arms down, hands by your knees.”
Seven frowned behind the blindfold, straightening his arms on either side until he was in the world’s dirtiest version of child pose. He waited for the next command but was met with silence. He listened as Enzo moved around the room. He flinched as a drawer opened and closed, the sound extra loud in the velvety darkness surrounding him. His breaths came faster as metal clinked against metal.
Something landed beside his leg, too rough to be skin, too warm to be steel. He bit down on his lip when Enzo tsked, forced to keep his head turned to the side.
“We need to work on your posture, baby. Hips up.”
Seven’s cheeks burned with embarrassment as he did as Enzo instructed. But it wasn’t enough; something dragged across Seven’s belly, tapping it twice like a teacher correcting a dancer’s form.
“Uh-uh. Arch your back. A little more. That’s much better.” Seven was about to tell him to go to hell when Enzo said, “Now, hold it for me, sweet boy.”
Seven melted.
No matter what he thought about himself, Enzo thought he was pretty. Enzo thought he was perfect. Nico said he felt the hottest when he and Mal played like this, and Seven understood now. Seven never thought of himself as ugly, not really. But he was human. He had his insecurities like everyone else. And right now, he was so…exposed.
Every inch of his pose felt purposeful, held open, held still, held captive to Enzo’s gaze. His thighs were shaking, skin prickling with awareness. He jolted when Enzo wrappedsomething buttery soft but sturdy—structured—just above his knees, first one then the other.
