A pause.
“I do.”
“All right then. I’m coming for you, Babygirl. Be ready.”
The house is stillwhen I slip in. I close the front door softly and melt into the dark. I move like a ghost. My shoes don’t even whisper against the hardwood.
The hallway is pitch black, but I don’t need light to find her. My fingertips brush the wall as I move, counting the doorways. When I reach her bedroom, I pause.
The door is cracked. Inside, a single candle burns low, painting her in soft gold and shadow.
She’s there, blindfolded and waiting.
“Perfection,” I say, more to myself than her.
I push the door open without a sound. There she is—facedown and ass high—naked except for the necklace I put on her.
My eyes adjust to the candlelight, and she doesn’t move. The flame paints slow-moving shadows across her skin.
A low growl curls up my throat, wordless and feral.
This is it.
The beginning.
I step into the room and shut the door with a click. She doesn’t speak or move.
My cock throbs at the sight of her, laid out for me in silence, offering herself without hesitation or question. Every line of her body screams trust and need.
I cross the room in a few slow strides. She startles the moment my finger touches her spine, and a sharp inhale reaches my ear. A shiver ripples through her—nerves or anticipation. Maybe both.
I drag my touch down the ridge of her back, savoring every inch.
“Such a good girl,” I tell her, my voice edged with praise.
She gasps, a sound caught somewhere between surprise and surrender.
“You listened and obeyed so well.” My hand flattens across her lower back, firm and possessive. “You look exquisite this way.”
A soft tremor travels through her body. I let my fingers trace the swell of her hips and the curve of her ass, delighting in every twitch of muscle.
My fingers move higher to the base of her neck, grazing the skin beside the necklace. She exhales, as if she’s been holding her breath for me.
I lean in closer. “You want this, don’t you? You want me to take you?”
Her body answers before her voice does with a trembling that isn’t fear. Not quite. It’s something sharper, something aching.
“Yes, I want you.”
I grip her hips, guiding her just a fraction, letting her feel the strength in my hands and certainty in my touch. “Good. Because I didn’t come here to admire how pretty you are. I came to fuck.”
My mouth closes over her neck, tongue and teeth working in tandem. She arches with a soundless gasp, letting me know what she wants without saying a thing.
“I own this moment,” I breathe against her skin. “The way your spine bows under my touch. The hush that settles in your lungs when you’re waiting for what comes next. That’s mine too.”
She doesn’t speak, and she doesn’t need to. Her body answers me in ways that make the heat under my skin flare, driving me forward. I want to pull her as close as I can get without taking her apart.
And in that moment, quiet and burning, she waits. Exactly where I told her to be. Perfect and ready.
