I yelped, jerking my hands away instantly.
Maddox sauntered in.
“That was quick,” I said, forcing what I hoped looked like an innocent smile.
He closed the door behind him slowly.
“What were you doing, Stella?” he asked, his words deliberate and measured.
“N-Nothing. I—well—I was a little cold,” I said, discreetly rubbing my fingers against the side of my leg beneath the covers.
He began unbuttoning his cornflower-blue shirt, each movement unhurried. The colour matched his eyes—those eyes that looked decisively evil right now. He yanked his shirt free from his trousers and finished unbuttoning it.
“Is that right?” he asked with a smirk.
“Uh-huh,” I hummed.
He tossed the shirt aside.
“So I won’t smell your pussy on any of your fingers?” he asked.
I wiped my fingers a little harder against my leg while I shook my head. When I rubbed them together, I realised I’d probably made it worse.
He would know.
Should I confess?
I felt the sweat begin to bead on my upper lip and lifted my hand to wipe it away.
Bad move.
It was game over.
I could smell myself on my fingers.
“Maddox?” I said as he walked toward the dark wooden chest at the end of the bed.
“Hmm?” he hummed without turning.
“My hand might have slipped—”
I winced when his burst of laughter cut me off.
“I was just warming up for you,” I said defensively as I pushed myself upright on the bed.
Even as the words left my mouth, I knew I was digging a deeper hole for myself. But stopping now seemed impossible.
“Sure you were,” he said, finally turning and walking toward me with a ring gag dangling from one hand and a vibrator in the other.
The sight of them made my stomach flutter.
Part of me was relieved that I wouldn’t be able to incriminate myself any further once the gag was in place, but another thought crept in just as quickly.
He definitely wasn’t about to reward me for my sass. Or for lying.
Fuck it.
It was still more fun than my mother’s bedroom rules.
