That power is dispersed by uncertainty as he soaps up his palms. He starts at an innocuous place, reaching up to soap down my arms, shoulders, and neck. His gaze drops to my breasts, brightening with interest.
Typical man.
Only he’snottypical. He washes my breasts gently, almost clinically, though he does stop to brush his thumbs back and forward over my nipples. Heat pools between my thighs, and each touch feels like it’s shooting electrical currents straight to my clit.
“So fucking perky,” he murmurs, before moving lower. He finishes with my torso, thenkneelsin front of me.
The sight nearly undoes me. This man, who’s probably one of the strongest I’ve come across—certainly the most pesky to kill—is kneeling before me of his own volition.
He lifts up my feet, one at a time, to wash me, then goes to my calves, my thighs, and finally, his head lifts. His gaze locks on mine as he nudges my feet apart and cups my center.
I gasp; a devilish smirk slants his lips.
He doesn’t wash me with clinical precision there. Heexplores. His fingers spread my folds, his thumb brushes over my clit. My eyes close and my head falls back, and that’s when he lands a sharp, painful slap over my pussy.
“Eyes on me,” he commands.
I have no choice but to comply.
“I’m going to be inside this pussy often,” he tells me. “Daily. Probably at least three times a day.”
Trepidation snaps me back to reality. I shrink back into the wall.
“You’ll beg me for it,” he assures me. “I’mthatgood.”
“You’rethatarrogant.”
“Fine line between arrogance and confidence.”
“Funny you should mention that, since you seem to have no idea where it lies.”
He chuckles and rises to his full height, releasing me. His hands get to work on his own body, quickly and succinctly. I manage to keep my eyes above his waist, but only just. I’mreallytempted to sneak a glance at his cock, and considering the amount of time he spends washing it, he wants me to look, too.
I don’t. I still have my pride.
“Alright,” he says once he’s done. “I think it’s time to get to the fun part of the evening.”
Chapter Sixteen
Max
She’s docile after the shower. I don’t make the mistake of assuming it’ll last—and it doesn’t. As soon as I’m finished drying her off and lead her to the bedroom, still naked, I feel tension bunch her muscles. Any languidness from the shower disappears—she’s probably remembering that she has the punishment of a lifetime coming her way.
“Max,” she starts slowly.
I don’t let her finish. I toss her on the bed, grab the chain connecting her hands, and attach it to a carabiner on the headboard, locking it down.
That’s when the strugglereallybegins. She writhes, trying to kick off the bedsheets. Shouts death threats and profanities at me. Bares her teeth like a wild animal.
I leave her to her tantrum and go into the closet, heading to the dresser stocked specifically with toys. I started preparing as soon as Greyson told me I had to find a chosen—back when he was still being a prick to Scarlett and I’d grown protective of her. It was a turbulent time in our friendship, but we’ve gotten past it.
I consider my options for a few beats. Ember does not strike me as experienced whatsoever, which means starting out slow would probablybe for the best—but so would introducing her to some lower-grade implements that I’ll be using on her.
I select a shiny leather crop, a pair of light nipple clamps, a spreader bar, a small plug, and a bottle of lube. Not too intense for a first time punishment, but by no means light.
When I return to the bedroom, I see that Ember’s anger has been replaced with panic. Her eyes are wide, like a wild dog’s. Her breaths are uneven, and she’s close to hyperventilating.
I don’t want her to have a panic attack or go statue-still like she did the first time I spanked her, so I drop everything at the foot of the bed, and help myself to a seat beside her. I cup her chin in my hand and direct her to look at me, keeping my eyes off her tempting body.
