Lottie felt a thrill rush through her, the heat of his gaze following every inch of her form as if he were memorizing the curve of her waist, the sweep of her neckline, the subtle but undeniable allure of the silk stockings that clung to her legs. His eyes lingered there, and for just a moment, she saw the shift—a flicker of appreciation, possessiveness, something that only he could convey with such a knowing smile.
The corner of his lips curled upward, a brief but unmistakable smile that made her pulse spike. It was as if he’d been waiting for this moment, or perhaps he simply knewexactlywhat she was doing, and he approved.
“That dress…” His voice dropped to a low, rich murmur, the kind of tone that wrapped around her like velvet. “Stunning.”
Lottie felt the weight of his compliment settle over her, and despite the growing attention in the room, she couldn’t help but feel an intoxicating sense of satisfaction. Razor was the kind of man who knew exactly how to make her feel seen—and in that moment,desired.
She let the silence stretch just long enough before speaking, her voice playful but laced with a touch of something deeper. “Well, I hope the stockings are to your liking,” she said, her smile challenging him to admit what was clearly on his mind.
Razor’s grin widened. “More than you know, Lottie,” he said, his eyes never leaving hers.
Taking her coat, he handed it to one of the servers to take to the coat room. Handing her glass back, Razor guided them to their seats as the lights began to dim.
A few minutes later, with drinks in hand, they sat watching one of the other Dom’s doing a scene using Shibari. The way the man mastered the art of rope tying was mesmerizing.
She leaned forward, her breath catching as the smooth glide of rope whispered against skin. Razor sat beside her, arms folded, his usual stoic demeanor softened by the flicker of interest in his dark eyes. The Dom on stage moved with practiced precision, his hands steady and deliberate, each knot a testament to control and artistry. The ropes wove intricate patterns across the submissive’s body, accentuating curves, creating tension, and evoking a delicate balance between restraint and beauty.
Razor’s voice broke the quiet, low and thoughtful, “It’s not just about the knots, you know.”
Lottie turned to him, her lips curving in a small, curious smile. “You sound like you’ve done this before.”
His eyes met hers, a glint of challenge flashing in them. “Maybe. But watching and doing are two very different things.”
Lottie’s fingers rested lightly on her lap, but her knuckles tightened as the ropes pulled taut on the submissive’s body. The intricate designs seemed alive, the crimson cords both confining and caressing. She couldn’t help but marvel at how something so simple…a piece of rope…could become art in the right hands. The submissive’s serene expression, a mixture of surrender and anticipation, made her chest tighten.
Could I ever let go like that? Trust like that?The question sat heavily in her mind, though she tried to shake it off. Her gaze drifted to the Dom’s hands, the deliberate care with which he placed each loop, his confidence palpable. There was something magnetic about that kind of control, and for a fleeting moment, she wondered what it would feel like to be in those ropes herself.
Beside her, Razor shifted, his arms still crossed but his posture slightly tense. He wasn’t watching the Dom anymore. He was watching her. He caught the flicker of wonder in her eyes, the way her lips parted almost imperceptibly as her gaze lingered on the scene.
He told himself he wasn’t jealous; this wasn’t about envy. It was about knowing. Knowing her. Her thoughts, her limits, her desires that she was only beginning to explore. Watching her now, he felt a mix of protectiveness and something sharper, more possessive.
She doesn’t even realize it yet, does she?he thought.That curiosity in her eyes, the way her breath catches when she sees the ropes pull tight. She’s drawn to this more than she knows.
Razor cleared his throat softly, and Lottie glanced at him, startled. “What do you think?” he asked, his voice casual but his eyes anything but.
She hesitated, her cheeks warming. “It’s…beautiful,” she admitted, her voice almost a whisper.
He tilted his head, studying her like she was a puzzle he’d been trying to solve for a long time. “It is,” he agreed, his tone quiet. But his gaze lingered a beat too long, speaking volumes of what he wasn’t saying.
“Lottie, would you be interested in using Shibari to work through your intimacy issues?” Razor asked her, risking their evening.
Lottie’s gaze snapped to Razor, her lips parting in surprise. The question hung between them, heavy and fragile, like the ropes they had just been watching. For a moment, she wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly.
“My…intimacy issues?” she echoed, her voice harsher than she intended.
Razor nodded, his expression carefully neutral, though his jaw tightened ever so slightly. He was risking a lot by saying it out loud—he knew that. But if there was one thing he’d learned about Lottie, it was that she didn’t need gentle dances around the truth. She needed directness, even if it stung.
“It’s just a suggestion,” he clarified, leaning forward slightly, his forearms resting on his knees. His dark eyes held hers, unwavering. “Shibari’s not just about ropes. It’s about trust, connection, and—letting go.”
Lottie swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. Her mind raced, pulling at his words, unraveling them like loose threads. Did he really think she couldn’t connect? Couldn’t let go? Was that what he saw when he looked at her?
“Letting go,” she repeated, a faint edge creeping into her voice. “You think that’s my problem?”
Razor exhaled sharply, his frustration slipping through. “I think you’ve been holding onto walls so tight you don’t even realize they’re there anymore.” His tone softened, a thread of vulnerability weaving in. “I’m not saying this to push you, Lottie. I’m saying it because I see what’s possible for you. If you’re open to it.”
Her heart thudded loudly in her chest. The idea of being bound like that, vulnerable in front of someone…anyone, terrified her. But there was a spark of something else too, buried deep beneath the fear: curiosity.
“I don’t know,” she admitted, her voice barely audible.
