There’s a golden flicker down the hallway. I follow it, my pace slow, steady, and controlled.
But the control won’t last.
The bedroom glows with candlelight—one single flame. It throws shadows across the room in wide golden strokes. The bed is soaked in them.
And so is she.
Laurette lies on her back, head at the foot of the bed, a blindfold covering her eyes. Her dark hair spills down the side of the mattress, a glossy curtain catching the candlelight in soft, inky waves.
The bra and panties are gone. She’s naked, skin flushed and perfect, mouth slightly parted. Her arms rest at her sides, palms open, as if she’s waiting to be claimed.
Or devoured.
I stop cold and admire her beauty. Everything in me twists—desire and reverence and something darker causing my balls to tighten.
She did this for me—set herself up like an offering, a dare, an invitation. She knows exactly what she’s doing.
I move forward without a word.
She can’t see me, but she knows I’m here. She always does.
“I was starting to think you might stand me up.”
She doesn’t flinch or move. She lies there, blindfolded and bare, as if her only job in this world is to tempt me past reason.
“I was getting lonely. Lying here, my pussy wet and throbbing… wondering if you’d come make a mess of me.”
Fuck. Me.
My cock stiffens instantly, blood surging with violent purpose. The control I wore like armor on the way here? Gone. Broken open by nothing but her voice, from a woman who claims me without a single glance.
I may be the obsessed one, but she’s the one who has me, whether she knows it or not.
Laurette’s head tilts back slightly, throat exposed in submission. She’s offering me everything—her body, surrender, and ruin. And fuck, I don’t think she even knows what that does to me.
I step closer until I’m standing over her.
“Careful, Babygirl. You keep talking like that, and I might forget to be gentle.”
She smiles. That same wreck-me smile I’ve seen too many times in too many dark dreams. “That’s the idea.”
I move to the bed in silence. Her body is stretched out like a gift, and she doesn’t flinch when I stop in front of her.
“Open your mouth.”
There’s no hesitation. Her lips part, tongue just barely visible, breath soft and ready. The kind of obedience that doesn’t come from fear but from trust—cracked open and waiting for whatever I decide to give.
I lean over her, palms braced on the mattress, and let the heat build for a beat longer. Then I spit, watching it land on her tongue. Watching her take it like communion.
“Good girl. You take whatever I give you, don’t you? Even when it’s messy. Even when it’s dirty.”
My hand grazes her waist. “You let me ruin you because you know I’ll be the one to put you back together.”
She swallows my spit.
The blindfold might cover her eyes, but the rest of her says everything—how her chest rises, nipples tight with arousal, her breath quickening like her body’s already begging for more.
“I want everything, My Wolf, any way you want to give it to me.”
