He paused. “Manners are a sign of respect. And I do not respect them.”
This made me laugh, though I knew Wes was dead serious.
“But you, I have the utmost respect for,” he continued, returning to me with beige rope.
His features were genuine as he knelt with me, pushing my wrists together. I kept them together as he tied a quick double bind, making handcuffs out of the rope.
Wes stood, his cool, dominant mask sliding back into place. He wrapped the leftover rope around his hand and lifted it, pulling my wrists above my head like I was a puppet to control at will. My core pulsed. I stared up at Wes, more relaxed than I’d been in weeks.
He lowered my arms back down and dropped the lead, leaving my wrists bound in front of my body. “There’s that look in your eyes I’m so fucking obsessed with,” he said softly. “One day, I’m going to hypnotize you again—and it willnotbe with pure intentions.”
I let out a breath, the words combining with the sensation of being bound before him to produce an overpowering head high. “I feel like I’m on drugs.”
Wes grinned. “That’s subspace, baby. Enjoy it. I’ve got you.”
I believed him. I believed in Wes not just as a Dom, but as a person, a soul. I believed in his redemption and worthiness, even if he still wrestled with it.
Wes unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants. All my attention snapped to the peak of his black boxer briefs.
“Tell me something you love about yourself.”
I waited for him to continue undressing, my gaze locked on the partial outline of a sizable bulge.
“Nova,” Wes snapped, breaking my trance instantly. “Eyes up here.” The humor in his irises softened his strict tone.
I cleared my throat. “I’m sorry. What?”
“Tell me something you love about yourself.”
What the hell?Wes was holding his cock hostage to extract statements of self-love? What kind of sick game were we playing?
“I, um,” I said, off to a solid start. I inhaled, holding his amused gaze. “I love my sense of humor. It has made life far easier to cope with.”
“Good girl,” Wes praised. He took off his shirt. “Tell me another.”
My eyes widened, drinking up his form that would do well to be immortalized in marble. He was broad and toned without being too bulky. Gorgeous black ink decorated his upper chest that connected to the natural and celestial art on his arms and knuckles. Wes himself was a work of art.
“You’re beautiful,” I said, just as I had the day he first put me under his spell.
Wes bent down with a firm grip around my throat. “Baby, if you don’t follow directions, I will not be removing another article of clothing tonight.”
I locked in immediately. “I love my work ethic. I know I’m too hard on myself, but I love what I’ve built, and I love that I believe in my ability to attain things other people might be too scared to reach for.”
“I love that about you too, Nova,” Wes said, releasing his hold and straightening back up. He fully removed his belt and pants.
For the first time, Wes and I were equally undressed.
“One more. Make it count.”
I struggled, finding fault with any compliment that came to mind. It was hard to think of something about myself that didn’t need to be worked on, refined, tinkered with, softened.
Wes stroked my hair, waiting patiently.
“I love my body,” I said. “I know that’s not what our society wants to hear from a woman, but it’s true. I spent my teenage years hating it, being taught to analyze and pick apart every flaw by my family and my culture, and I don’t feel that way anymore.” I looked to Wes for approval, feeling suddenly self-conscious and vulnerable. I hoped he didn’t think I was vain or conceited or?—
He smiled, quieting my inner monologue. “This makes me very pleased to hear. The love for your body is incredibly mutual.”
I relaxed.
