Ben moves behind me,
his fingers wrapping around my ankle.
The cold leather presses against my skin,
and the buckleclicks.
“You know what fuckin’ excites me, Baby?”
His voice drips down my spine.
“You.
“On all fours for me.
“Nowhere to fuckin' run.”
He tightens the brace around my ankle.
“Watch it,” I mumble,
acting tough and choking on it.
The second strap locks around my other ankle.
He grabs the inside of my thighs
and guides my knees apart,
wider,
wider,
until thirty inches of cold steel locks in place.
“Been thinkin’ ‘bout this for months, Baby.”
His hand drags up my spine.
“Every time you fuckin’ insult me…”
His palm presses down between my shoulder blades until I'm chest to mattress, spine curved, breath crushed against silk.
He grabs my wrist and clips it to my ankle.
The metal bites down.
Then he moves to the other.
I’m stretched open,
everything exposed, lined up,
angled for his convenience.
He trails his fingers over the curve of my ass.
In my head, Allison and Baby are shoved into a room together. Baby's sitting on the floor, watching Allison pace, waiting to see if she’ll stay, take a seat next to her, shut up and enjoy the show, or bolt for the door.
