Her cuffed hands are still pressed against my cock. I can feel her pulse through her wrists—racing, frantic.
"You wanted someone who'd take control so you didn't have to make choices. Who'd force you to admit what you need so you didn't have to volunteer it."
I pinch her nipple hard.
She cries out.
"You wanted someone who'd make you his perfect slave."
I release her completely and step back.
She sways without my support, catching herself against the door with her shoulder, pressing her forehead against the wood.
I move close again, my front to her back. My cock fits perfectly against the curve of her ass. I let her feel it. Let her understand exactly how hard I am.
How much I want this.
How much I wanther.
"You wrote a scene in Chapter Nine ofChained to the Master's Bed," I say conversationally, as if we're discussing the weather. "Where Gabriel makes Isla recite all the ways she wants to be used while he edges her for an hour."
Scarletta whimpers.
"Do you remember that scene?"
Silence.
I reach around and grip her throat. Not choking. Just holding. Fingers pressed against her pulse points.
"I asked you a question."
"Yes," she gasps. "Yes, I remember."
"Good."
I release her throat and trail my hand down between her breasts, over her stomach, stopping just above her pussy.
"In that scene, Isla had to tell Gabriel every filthy thing she fantasized about. Every degrading act she craved. And if she lied—if she held anything back—he'd start over from the beginning. Setting the timer for another hour. Setting her up to succeed."
My fingers dip lower. Brush against her clit.
She jerks like I've electrocuted her.
"By the end," I continue, circling her clit with light, teasing pressure, "she was begging him to let her confess. Begging to tell him her darkest secrets because keeping them inside was worse than the shame of saying them out loud."
Scarletta's hips tilt forward, seeking more pressure.
I pull my hand away.
"That's what I'm going to do to you," I tell her. "I'm going to make you confess every fantasy you've ever had. Every story you've written. Every scene that made you wet when you typed it."
I press my cock harder against her ass.
"And you're going to tell me the truth. Because you already know the rules. You wrote them."
She's shaking so hard I can feel it through the contact between us.
Perfect.
