He didn’t speak.He didn’t need to. The leash tugged once. Instant Precise. I sank to my knees without thought.
Wolfe crossed the marble. Boots whispering. A low hum against the polished silence. He circled me once. Slow. Predatory. A king inspecting the ruins he owned.
He stopped behind me. The leash still taut. Still commanding. Still alive between us. His voice, when it came, was low. Deadly.Achingly beautiful. “Strip.”
One word. One knife slid under my skin.
I obeyed. Slow. Trembling. The dress slipped down my body like a confession. Pooling at my knees—a sin discarded. I stayed kneeling.
Wolfe didn’t touch. Didn’t praise. Didn’t speak again. He circled me once more. The leash still tight. Still breathing between my ribs.
“Inhale.”
I obeyed. Breathing deep. Filling my lungs even as the pain lanced sharp under the bruises.
“Hold.”
I froze. The air burning inside me. The need clawing at my ribs. My heart hammering in my chest. My body shaking under the strain.
“Hold.”
Stars bloomed at the edges of my vision. Not from pain. Not from fear. From worship.
“Exhale.”
The release was a gasp. Soft. Shattering. I sagged forward slightly. Caught myself with trembling arms. But I didn’t fall. I didn’t fail. Because breathlessness wasn’t failure here. It was proof.
Wolfe crouched behind me. Close. But still not touching. His breath stirred the hair at my nape. Heat sliding down the line of my spine.
“Again.”
I inhaled. Held. Shook. Exhaled. Kneeling. Naked. Owned. Perfect. Waiting. Because breathing wasn’t survival anymore. It was devotion. And I was ready to be taken.
The leash tightened against my throat. Not cruel. Not careless. Precise. Wolfe didn’t have to yank it.
He didn’t have to bark commands. He owned the air between us. Owned the breath scraping through my battered lungs. Owned the space my body dared to take up on the marble.
I stayed on my hands and knees. Breathing shallow. Ribs aching. Pulse hammering.
His boots stopped just behind me. Close enough I could feel the heat of him radiating against the backs of my thighs. Close enough I could smell leather and command soaked into his skin. He let the leash pull tighter. Tighter. Until my head tippedslightly back under the pressure. Until my breath caught on the edge of pain.
And only then—only when my body was trembling on instinct and obedience—did he touch me.
One hand—broad.
Hard.
Uncompromising.
Flattened across the small of my back.
Pushing.
Pinning.
Owning.
I exhaled a broken sound into the marble.
