But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to put up one hell of a fight.
He wants me to crawl for him. He’ll have to earn that privilege.
I won’t surrender so easily.
58
ABIGAIL
Black spots dance at the edges of my vision, and my fingers soften on Dane’s forearm, no longer clawing at him as my consciousness wavers.
“Are you done already?” he taunts. “Such a fragile little dove. Shall I treat you more gently? I don’t want to break you.”
His hand drops from my nose and mouth, and I drag in a deep, burning breath.
“Fuck you,” I say on the exhale, voice hoarse.
The bedroom spins around me at the rush of oxygen back to my brain. I start to struggle again, but he easily wrestles me to the floor. A shriek tears from my throat when he grabs my wrists and pins them at the small of my back. I thrash, but I only succeed in stimulating my hard nipples against the plush carpet, even through the thin barrier of my dress.
The familiar feel of hemp rope encircling my wrists draws a sound of feral denial from my chest, and he hums in pure, masculine satisfaction. He makes quick work of binding me before grabbing my flailing ankles. He pulls my body taut into a stress position, tying my ankles to my wrists so that I can’t do more than wriggle and curse at him.
His long fingers encircle my nape, and he presses my cheek into the carpet so that my shouts become garbled. His other hand caresses my jawline with reverence.
“Such a filthy mouth,” he remarks. “I thought you were a pure, polite Southern belle. I’ll have to teach you how to behave properly. You’ll learn some respect and humility.”
“Respect is earned,” I seethe.
He cocks his head, considering me. “Is that what all of this is about? You want to make me work for your submission?” His slow grin is cruelly beautiful. “You’re the one who will struggle and suffer. I get nothing but sadistic enjoyment out of degrading you, pet.”
“Stop calling me that,” I snap.
He traces the line of my cheekbone, lingering over my freckle. “Never.”
His touch withdraws from my cheek, and then my collar dangles from his elegant fingers, swaying in front of my trapped face in a mocking rhythm.
“You’ll have to earn your diamonds,” he taunts. “You’ll beg me for them before I’m finished with you.”
“You can lock that collar around my throat, but it won’t tame me,” I hiss.
My body burns for him, rage-tinged desire coursing through my veins like fire. My indignation isn’t fake—I will never meekly bend when he’s taunting me like this. But my surging emotions are as powerful as the whitecapped waves on a stormy sea, drowning me in primal chemicals as my body struggles to defy his cruel control.
With Dane, I don’t freeze; I fight back. I’m safe to use my claws because he will never truly hurt me in retaliation.
This exchange is fully consensual, and that means I can lose myself in the power struggle. I can indulge in the thrilling fear and intoxicating adrenaline, and they make the world come intosharp relief around me. My senses come alive, and every inch of my flesh crackles and dances, my bound body humming with sensual awareness.
“You think I’ve only planned to tie you up and collar you?” he asks, sounding almost disappointed. “You underestimate my capacity for sadism. I will strip you down and reduce you to a weeping, desperate mess. And then I’ll torment you some more, just because it pleases me to hear you whimper and whine.”
Before I can issue a terse retort, the collar encircles my throat, and he draws it tight enough to make me choke. He holds the tension for several long seconds, until my blood pounds in my ears. Only when my body begins to soften does he ease the bite of the supple leather. His fingers are gentle and tender as he buckles it into place and secures it with the small, rose gold padlock.
He traces the line of the collar around my neck. My nerves jump beneath his featherlight touch. The first traitorous shiver races over my body, and my cheeks flame.
Something silver glints in his hand: a pair of blunt-tipped shears.
“No knives for you today,” he says, as though it’s a kindness. “You’re especially feisty, and I don’t want to accidentally cut my pretty plaything. Every ounce of pain I deliver will be deliberate and by my design, not because of your pitiful struggles.”
I jerk against the restraints and release a growl of pure frustration when the rope tightens around my wrists and ankles. I’m just as helpless as he said, but I’m not ready to surrender.
“Don’t you dare,” I warn. “I like this dress.”
