“Can you at least tell me if pain is going to be involved?”
I don’t know much, but I’ve read books and seen movies where BDSM is involved. There always seems to be lots of spanking. Not that I’m opposed to the idea, I just never saw myself partaking in sexual acts of that nature.
“No, baby. No pain. I’m not really into that. But I’d try it if you wanted.”
“I think we can forgo the pain part.” I laugh.
“So is that a firm yes?”
I nod.
“Say it.”
“Yes.” My thighs actually clench at the idea of Dev having his kinky way with me.
His face lights up with carnal elation.
“Eat,” he orders, and I know this night just took a dark, dangerous, and explicit turn.
* * *
“Thank you.”I lean over and kiss Dev on the cheek once we’re seated in his car.
“For what?” He punches the ignition, and the Mustang rumbles to life.
“Dinner. Duh.”
“Oh. That.” He smirks, placing his hand on my inner thigh, skimming it upward under the hem of my skirt. “I hope it’s the first of many.”
“Me too.” I jump as he tickles my clit. “Dev!” I scold him.
“Dev, what?”
“You just can’t keep your hands to yourself.”
“Nope. And why would I want to? Look at the woman sitting next to me. I’m a lucky man.” The stupid idiot actually makes me blush. “And I plan to thank her for being mine in multiple ways.”
And so it begins. Is it suddenly hot in here? I blow on my cleavage discreetly to cool myself.
The hour ride back home is quiet but thick with tension. The closer we get to Dev’s house, the more apprehensive I become. I may be in a relationship with two men, but I have always felt in control. Tonight, Dev is asking me to hand over that control, and that’s a terrifying thing. I try to reason with myself. This man loves me. He would never hurt me or humiliate me, but the fear of the unknown is clawing at my chest, making it hard to breathe.
We walk briskly through the cold January air into the house. The lights are off and an electrical charge zaps me as I walk over the threshold. It’s all brand new, like I’m entering Dev’s home for the very first time.
He leads me into the kitchen, only flicking on the singular recessed light over the sink.
I stand there out of place as I watch him pour a glass of water.
“Drink this.” He hands me the pint glass. “Don’t come upstairs until you finish it.”
I take the glass from him tentatively. “Okay?”
He smiles but says nothing more as he kisses my forehead before vacating the kitchen, leaving me alone with just the glass.
I stare at the water, a small part of me wishing it was wine.
I start to drink it down, swallowing my apprehension one gulp at a time. When I’m finally finished, I set the glass down on the counter and make my way upstairs. Dev’s house isn’t huge, but it is comfortable. There are three bedrooms on the second floor, a master and two spares. He rearranged the rooms when he moved in last year, retiring from his childhood room and claiming the master as his own. It’s large and spacious with an en suite bathroom. Comfortable enough for three. As I walk through the double doors, soft candlelight and the smell of sandalwood engulf my senses. But what grabs my full attention is the bed.
The comforter is pulled down, exposing the black cotton sheets. And dangling from the iron canopy is a pair of leather cuffs.
