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"What have you been thinking?" he asks, his voice dropping lower.

I meet his eyes directly. "That I want this. That I want you. That I'm tired of pretending I don't."

His thumb traces my jaw, his touch gentle but possessive. "No pretending tonight."

"No pretending," I agree.

His hand slides into my hair, tilting my head back so I have to look at him. "Tell me what you need."

I take a breath, letting myself be honest. "I need to feel wanted. I need someone to take control so I don't have to think. I need—" I pause, searching for the right words. "I need to let go."

"Then let go," he says, his voice firm but not unkind. "I've got you."

"I know," I whisper, and I realize it's true. I trust him.

Vanguard leans in, his lips brushing against my ear. "I want to try something tonight. But I need your permission first."

"What?" I ask, my pulse quickening.

He pulls back slightly, his dark eyes locked on mine. "I want to restrain your wrists. With my belt. Nothing that will hurt you or restrict your breathing. Just enough to keep your hands behind your back so you can focus on what you're feeling instead of what you're doing."

My heart pounds. "How would it work?"

"I'd wrap the belt around your wrists at the small of your back—loose enough that you can move your fingers and I can check circulation, tight enough that you feel held. You'd be on your knees on the bed, and I'd be behind you. If it's uncomfortable or you want it off, you say Yellow and I adjust or remove it immediately. If you want to stop completely, you say Red."

I consider it, my body already responding to the image. "And you'll check that I'm okay?"

"I'll check before, during, and after," he promises. "This only happens if you want it."

I meet his gaze. "I want it."

Something flickers in his eyes—something raw and possessive and almost vulnerable. "Say your safe words for me."

"Red stops everything. Yellow adjusts."

"Good girl." He kisses me, hard and claiming, and then he steps back and unbuckles his belt.

I watch, my breath coming faster, as he slides the leather free from his belt loops. It's black, expensive-looking, and the sight of it in his hands makes my thighs clench.

"Turn around," he says, his voice low and commanding.

I obey, turning to face the bed, my hands trembling slightly—not from fear, but from anticipation.

Vanguard steps up behind me, his body pressing against my back, his mouth at my ear. "Put your hands behind you."

I do, crossing my wrists at the small of my back.

He wraps the belt around my wrists carefully, not too tight, checking the fit with his fingers. "Move your fingers for me."

I flex my fingers, and the belt shifts slightly but holds.

"How does that feel?" he asks.

"Good," I breathe. "It feels good."

His hands slide up my arms, over my shoulders, down to cup my breasts through the fabric of my dress. "I want you to feel everything tonight, Ivy. Every touch. Every kiss. Every time I make you come. I want you to remember this."

I whimper, my body arching into his touch.