Page 164 of What We Become

“That all?” Milo asks hopefully.

“Then I want everything.”

Eli steps closer, the leash sliding through his fist. “Safe word?”

“Hangmen.”

“If you can’t speak?”

“Two taps.”

Micah catches my chin and turns my face toward him. “You sure?”

“Positive.”

He kisses me, slow and warm, and when he draws away, his thumb brushes the corner of my mouth.

“Keep telling us.”

“I will.”

“Good girl.”

Holden finds the zipper of my dress and draws it down my back. The fabric loosens slowly, exposing skin one inch at a time while all six of us watch through the mirror.

I push the dress from my shoulders. It pools at my feet.

I’m not wearing underwear.

Milo makes a strangled sound. “Sometimes I worry I don’t contribute enough to this relationship, and then the universe gives me moments like this.”

“You haven’t contributed anything yet,” Holden says.

“I’m building atmosphere.”

“You’re building a headache.”

I step out of the dress, leaving myself in the silver mask, collar, and heels.

The gallery counter jumps to nine.

That tiny number hits low in my belly. Nine strangers stand beyond the glass, watching me bare myself for five men. I can’t see their faces or hear them shifting closer, but I feel their attention as surely as I feel the chain between my breasts.

I turn toward the mirror.

This is what they see.

My body, my scars, and my throat encircled in black leather. Five masked men closing around me while the leash runs from my collar into Eli’s hand.

For most of my life, being watched meant assessment. A man deciding what he could take. A room deciding whether I belonged. Someone measuring my weakness and waiting for the chance to use it.

This is different.

They can look because I opened the glass.

They can listen because I turned on the sound.

And when I’m finished with them, I can shut it all down.