Handcuffs.
Not toy handcuffs from some novelty store, but real ones. Heavy steel with chain links. He holds them casually, testing the weight in his palm.
“Wait, what?” I scramble backward on the bed until my spine hits the headboard. “What are those for?”
“Your punishment.”
“For examining locked doors?”
“For disobeying a direct request when I specifically asked you to stay away.” Another step closer. “For breaking into areas of my house that are explicitly off-limits.”
“I didn’t break into anything. I just examined...”
“You tried every door handle in that hallway.” His voice drops lower. “You knelt down to peer through a keyhole. You invaded my privacy after I specifically asked you not to.”
Guilt and arousal war in my chest, creating a cocktail of emotions. He’s right. I did exactly what he’s accusing me of, and I’d probably do it again given the chance.
“What are you going to do with those?” I nod toward the handcuffs, my mouth suddenly dry.
“Whatever I want.” The promise makes me clench my thighs together. “I warned you I don’t do gentle. I’m not the vanilla, strawberries-and-champagne-by-candlelight kind of guy. The question is whether you’re going to make this easy or difficult.”
I stare at him—standing there half-naked with handcuffs, having just captured three people—and realize I’m not afraid. An ordinary girl would be scared shitless, but what I feel is anticipation.
“That depends,” I say. “Are you planning to hurt me?”
“Only in ways you’ll enjoy.”
The way he says it makes something clench deep inside me,urgent and needy and completely at odds with any rational response to this situation.
“Blue...”
“Hands,” he commands, moving close enough that I can smell his shower soap mixed with something I desperately want to lick off him.
I don’t hesitate, not really. I flatten my palms together, wrists daintily crossed and held out in front of me like a damsel or a saint awaiting the sword.
The metal is icy against my skin, biting down when he clicks the restraint shut.
“Up,” Blue says, and hooks his fingers under my chin. The mood in his eyes is menacing, but I don’t look away.
Then his towel is gone, peeled off and tossed to the floor. His cock is impossibly thick and hard already, flushed at the tip, and the sight of him standing over me, fully naked and utterly in control, flips some secret breaker in the caveman part of my brain.
The world goes soft at the edges. He sits on the bed and pulls me into his lap, my cuffed arms caught between our chests. My knees straddle his hips, the fabric of my dress riding up so far it’s practically a belt. Blue pushes the hem even higher, rough hands sliding under to find bare skin at the backs of my thighs.
“You didn’t obey,” he says, mouth against my ear. “You’re going to pay for it.”
“Yeah?” I want what’s coming so badly my body aches. “How?”
He reaches behind me, finds the zipper. One tug and my dress peels open, the angle awkward with my arms stuck in front of me. He yanks the straps off my shoulders and exposes my bra, black-and-lace, probably twisted and misshapen from the night’s misadventures. The way he stares at my chest makes my nipples pebble beneath the thin mesh.
He tugs the straps down, pulls the cups lower, palms my tits like he’s weighing them for a recipe. Grazes his thumb over the nipple until I gasp. Then pinches. Hard.
“Ow,” I say, and squirm, but my hips roll into his lap on instinct.
His teeth are at my throat, scraping gently, then sinking in. “You’ll take exactly what I give you.”
His hands work the dress and bra off me, tearing what’s left to get over the handcuffs. He makes a sound deep in his chest, a little snarl, then flips me flat onto the mattress, face-down, ass high in the air.
He kneels over me, tugs my hips back, and bites a line up the inside of my thigh. My body’s gone boneless, floating in endorphin soup already. Blue presses a warm palm to the small of my back, holding me steady as his other hand slides up the backs of my thighs and between them.
