“Jesus. It’s like a staycation.”
“Isn’t every Las Vegas house like that? A home away from one of the biggest tourist traps in the country.”
Ellie snickers as she looks around the chef’s kitchen and the porcelain tiles; the Neolith and Dekton countertops. “I live in Vegas, Damien. And my house, as you well know, is nothing like this.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t bring you here for the view,” I say, tugging at my thin, black satin tie. “I brought you here because you told me to make you mine.”
“Yes,” she says, and I can actually see her pulse quicken. It shows in her bare throat, her chest, and every other sensitive part of her body that can’t hide anything from me.
“Ever since the first time I saw you, in the mask and then walking into my office, I have wanted nothing more than to make you mine, Miss Bates,” I tell her.
“I want that too,” she says meekly.
“No, no,” I say as I tug the tie slowly from my shirt. “If you want this, like this, you will follow my rules,Miss Bates,” I emphasize the name to clue her into how I want this to play out.
“If I remember correctly, Mr. Graves, I have always followed your rules. Every single one of them,” she says with just enough sass to bring the aforementioned primal animal further out of the cage.
“Then you’ll have no issue following a new set of rules then,” I tell her as I take the tie and blindfold her with it.
A smile begins to creep across her lips, and I scoop her up, taking her into my room.
“Well, this isn’t fair,” she teases. “I don’t even get a tour of the house?”
I don’t answer. I don’t say anything. I take her into the room and lay her on my California King bed. I then peel the dress from her body, sliding it down her curves and letting it fall to the floor. She isn’t wearing a bra, and her satin panties are the same color as the dress. I like black, but something about this girl in color brightens my whole life. I’m more struck by her than I am by the Vegas lights.
I kiss her, surprising her, and make my way down the front of her. As I kiss her most sensitive spots, her back arches, needing,beggingfor more, but we aren’t going to do this the way we usually do.
I take her wrists in my hands and pin them to the bed above her head. Ellie sucks in a sharp breath.
“Do you want it, Ellie?” I ask as I kiss her collarbone. She lets out a small laugh, and I scratch my teeth against her collarbone.
“Yes,” she says, sinking back into the bed.
“You trust me?” I ask, and she nods. “Say it.”
“I trust you, Mr. Graves,” she says.
“Damien.”
“Damien.”
“What is the safe word?” I ask.
“Locket,” she whispers. “I want it. I want you. Make me yours.”
I tighten the blindfold and clip her chin between my fingers. “Don’t go anywhere.”
I open one of my dresser drawers and rummage around in it.
“What’s that?” she asks, smiling from the bed. She hasn’t moved. Her hands are still pinned above her head, and I’m not even holding them there.
Good girl.
“You’ll see,” I tell her, grabbing something and closing the drawer.
I climb on top of her, straddling her, and reach for her hands. She gasps. “Handcuffs?”
“Yes,” I say as I secure them. They’re leather, soft on the inside. I link them to the bed and run my hands down her arms, over her breasts, down her torso.
