“You’re not a puppet,” he agrees. “You’re a challenge.”
I snap into the pose, more from spite than submission.
He circles. Corrects. Sometimes gently, sometimes not. The touch of his hand on my thigh makes my stomach twist in on itself. When I falter, he doesn’t strike. Hewaits. Patient. Unyielding.
My thighs ache by the fifth position. My arms tremble with the sixth. And yet… every time I do it right, he hums his approval, low and primal.
“Well done.”
“Better,” he murmurs.
“Exquisite.”
The praise shouldn’t matter. But it does. Each word lands like a spark against dry kindling. It’s notjustwhat he says. It’show he looks at me while he says it. Like I’m powerful. Like I’m fire incarnate.
Like hewantsme, yes—but alsorespectsme.
The realization is a sucker punch.
He steps back, nods once. “You learn quickly.”
“Maybe I’m just trying to lull you into a false sense of security.”
He smiles with too many teeth. “Then you’re even cleverer than I thought.”
And just like that, the session ends.
He gestures toward the adjoining chamber—dimly lit, shimmering steam curling through the open doorway. A bath. Deep. Luxurious. An indulgence, not a necessity.
“I need to be cleaned,” he says, turning away. “You’ll undress me.”
“Oh, will I?”
He says nothing.
But his shirt is already unfastened, one clasp undone, his back turned to me in complete, unguarded trust. Or arrogance.
Maybe both.
My hands hover for a second before I curse under my breath and step forward. The material is unfamiliar—thick like armor, but soft like silk. My fingers find the hidden seams and begin to work the closures free.
I don’t think about what I’m doing until my knuckles brush the bare skin of his shoulder blades.
Gods.
He’s not just muscular—he’s sculpted. Every ridge, every plane, built like a statue carved from obsidian. My fingertips glide along the curve of his spine, and I feel a jolt in my belly. Heat pools low. Shame rises up to meet it.
He goes still.
I gasp and snatch my hands back.
The silence between us is electric.
His voice cuts through it like a blade. “Say the word.”
I freeze.
“I’ll bind you in silk and fire,” he says, quiet now. “I’ll worship you like the treasure you are.”
