My belly clenches and I gasp out a strangled breath.
Sometimes I just want to be hurt, and tonight is one of those times.
He lowers his head, lifting one breast to his lips.
I cry out as his teeth bear down. Oh sweet Jesus.
His fingers slide between my legs where I’m already soaking wet. Already longing for him. He rubs my clit.
My legs start to quiver.
My arms burn with the effort to maintain my position.
I think of that first night, when I’d been so terrified of him. Then he’d slipped his hands between my legs to find me wet. He’d almost pushed me to orgasm without even trying.
Just like that night, he pulls back.
I pant up at him.
I’m already needy. Already crave what only he can give me.
His gaze is full of a hunger that matches my own. “You’re a greedy girl.”
I am.
He walks over to the armoire behind me, and I hear the rummaging of stuff before he returns to me with a flogger in his hands. “To warm you up.”
Before I can even get my bearings, he swings like he’s pitching a softball and the leather straps strike between my legs in a harsh blow.
The pleasure and pain rise through me and I groan.
He does it again.
And again.
I scream. The orgasm is barreling in on me. Fast. “Michael.”
“Don’t you dare come, Layla,” he says, his voice hard and unrelenting.
I can’t begin to describe how it hurts and feels good all at the same time. Feathery little stings that caress my flesh. Sensations all mixing together in my head and making me ache.
He flicks the strands once more across my clit and I grit my teeth and try and think of anything but the pleasure rolling through me, threatening to overtake me.
Then, thankfully he moves away from where I’m most vulnerable, striking across my thighs and stomach. Over my breasts and nipples, until I’m hot all over and my skin is blushed with pink.
He drops the flogger to the floor and stalks over to me, sweeping me up and claiming my mouth in a hard, brutal kiss.
He devours me.
His tongue and lips and mouth claiming me with such delicious force I can only succumb to his will.
He pulls away, and takes my arms, bringing them down to my sides. His eyes burn into me. “I can’t wait to fuck this hot, tight cunt of yours.”
My muscles clench in desire.
He moves behind me. “Go to the bed and wait for me.”
On wobbly legs I stand by the mattress and wait. My heart pounding. My body ready.
He returns and, fully clothed, he rubs against my bare back. “Are you ready?”
“Yes.” I believe I am, until he holds out the leather straps that will tether me to the bed.
My throat goes bone dry. I’m here, at the point of no return.
Jillian
This isn’t what I expected.
The room is pitch-black except for the spotlight shining on a table in the center. I’m disorientated, thrust from the bright activity of the main room and into inky darkness that seems to envelop me with every step I take.
I’m not sure I like this. Not sure I’m ready to make this fantasy a reality. I clutch Leo’s hand as I stumble.
“Leo.” His name is an anxious whisper on my lips.
“I’ve got you, Jilly.” His voice grounds me, but does nothing to abate the anxiety now pinging through me at the speed of lightning. All the giddy, happy desire from just moments ago has evaporated into thin air.
I hear the sound of the door opening and closing. Again and again, but when I look behind me, I can’t see anyone. It’s just black. Fathomless and scary.
Even Brandon has disappeared.
The only thing illuminated in the room is that table and bright light, where I will be.
The sound of the door is jarring.
I gulp, my muscles tensing. I want to drag my feet.
How many people are in here? Did everyone from the front room follow? I have no idea. There could be a hundred people in here and I’d never know it.
Leo has taken my fantasies quite seriously. I am more than on display. On that table, I will be the only thing you can see in the room. Everything else is dark.
Fear pricks across my skin and I am suddenly regretting all the times I’d talked about this stupid fantasy of mine. I force myself to take a deep breath, slow and steady. Okay, I’ll be fine. Leo is here with me. Nothing will happen to me. And this is what I want. What I’ve been practically begging for.
Leo leads me to the table, which I now see isn’t a normal, everyday table, but one that has metal rings sticking out of it. He helps me up. “Kneel, Jillian.”
I can only comply. I swivel around, already hot under the bright light shining down on me. So bright it’s like a sunlamp. I start to breathe fast. I look behind him, trying to peer into the distance to see who might be there, but there’s nothing but endless black.
Leo runs his hands over my body, pulling my attention back to him where it belongs, where I need it to be.
It centers me. Yes, this is what I need. Him.
He grips my neck, pulling me close.
Then his lips are on mine, sucking me in, hypnotizing me. His mouth is hot and possessive. His tongue claiming.
I instantly calm, getting lost in him like I always do, forgetting everyone and everything but him. This is what this man does to me.
When he finally pulls away I blink at him, a bit dazed.
He smiles at me, and strokes my cheek. “Jesus, I love you.”
“I love you too,” I say without hesitation.
“Enjoy it.” He presses a hard, brutal kiss to my lips. “Give in to it.”
I nod. His reminder of the people in this room, their eyes on me, pulls my attention away from him. I lick my lips and straighten my spine, breathing deep as I look into the blackness.
I imagine a hundred eyes on me.
But instead of working me up like it does when I’m sitting in my living room, it cools my blood. Somehow, between the transition of the front room, where it was fun and flirty and a game, to this room where I’m the only thing visible, it’s taken on a tone I’m not sure I’m in love with.
Okay, I need to shake it off. Tap into that place where I lose myself. Leo has always commented that I slip into that space ridiculously easy and all I need to do is find it. Between Leo and there, I’ll be okay.
This is just new.
Leo steps away then crouches down, only to bring up a long, metal chain that glints in the light. I stare at it, wide eyed. As he gets to the end, I see a hook. He attaches it onto the silver circle at my neck, and then to the table. Capturing me to this time and place.
The metal thuds against my throat, down between the curves of my breasts. He tugs and all my focus zeros back on him. We stare at each other for several long beats and I get lost in his dark, hungry gaze. He wraps the chain around his hand, pulling me close. He whispers against my lips, “You’re mine.”
“Yes.” My nipples pull into tight peaks, almost too tight, reawakening my desire. And I think I’m going to melt into a puddle on the table as my heartbeat speeds up into an impossible gallop. Yes, more of this.
All I need is to focus on him, the man I love, the man I am going to marry and spend my life with.
Leo surveys his work. “Pretty.”
I peer into the darkness, trying to discern shadows, but I can see nothing against the lights.
Leo smirks. “They’re watching you, girl. Watching as I chain you to this table. Watching you do whatever I tell you to do. And watching you come because of it.”
The words take my attention off him and back on the nameless, faceless crowd. I take in a deep breath and blow it out. Instead of exciting me the way it normally does, I feel some of my lust cool. I don’t understand it. I’ve wanted this for so long. I’ve played out this exact scenario. But I can’t get lost t
he way I want to.
I can’t figure out why.
Leo presses an open-mouth kiss to my throat, pulling me back to him, before whispering in my ear, “How should I hurt you tonight?”
The image of a belt flashes through my head at lightning speed.
I hate the belt.
I love the belt.
I want it on my skin.
I don’t want it.
I can’t admit it and squeak out, “Your hand?”
Spankings are easier, especially in front of a crowd, where having Leo’s hand on my skin will establish the intimacy I so desperately need.
Leo cups my chin and narrows his eyes. “What was your first thought?”
I don’t want to say. I shake my head.
“I’m not asking.” His voice turns hard and it makes me wary even while it inflames me.
He has that look in his eyes, the one that warns evasion is not recommended. Once upon a time I would have ignored the warning, but I’m smarter now, more experienced. The consequences are always worse than I can imagine. I swallow past my dry throat and peer into the darkness, wondering how many people are witnessing this private moment between us.
I don’t think I want it. To have people watch as Leo hits me with the thick black belt at his waist.
“Jillian,” his voice says this is my last warning. If I don’t answer now, there will be hell to pay.
I’m confused. But I don’t lie. “The belt.”
Eyes hard, Leo steps back and puts his hand on the buckle. “This belt?”
I nod.
“Should I strip you naked first?”
No! No! No!
I blink into the darkness. I don’t want to be naked in front of them.
I frown. He’s worked so hard to set this up for me. He’s arranged it with Brandon. He’s giving me exactly what I want. My fantasies. And I need to make him proud. He told me to give them a show, to make them want me, but how can I do that when I’m so anxious.
I just need to concentrate.
I shake my head.
He raises a brow. “No?”
I shake my head again. “I…” My gaze darts out to the audience. “I don’t want to be naked.”
He steps forward, cups my jaw, and looks me dead in the eye. “Is there something you want to say, girl?”
I know what he’s doing. He’s checking to make sure I don’t want to safe word out of the scene.
I have never used my safe word. Never had to. I trust Leo and he instinctively knows how far to push me. A new hope surges, maybe he wants me to use it. Maybe he doesn’t want this either.
I search his face, but find no stress there. I know him, all his moods. I can read his expressions. But I sense nothing. No unease. No tightening at the corners of his mouth that tell me he’s unsure.
He’s really okay with this.
I’m the one in my head. Not him.
I need to let this happen. I was gung-ho about this all night, ready, willing and able. I don’t know what’s changed; I just need to find that place where I was before.
I gulp. “I’m okay.”
“You sure?” Now his expression does crease.
“I’m sure.” I clench my hands tightly together and lower my gaze to his belt. “I don’t think I want to be naked.”
He strokes my hair, kisses me on the top of my head but says nothing.
Instead, he walks behind me, and pulls the tie of the corset he’d lace me into earlier in the privacy of our bedroom. “Is that so?”
The silken tie comes undone at my waist.
I blink, tears welling in my eyes as I stare out into the crowd of people I can’t see. This is not how I thought I’d feel. I feel vulnerable, and distant. I can’t lose myself.
I don’t want these people here. All the fun from before, the teasing and games, that’s all it was, and this doesn’t feel like that.
Reality is nothing like my fantasies.
I don’t want people watching us have sex.
I don’t want people to see me naked.
I don’t want people to watch Leo hit me with a belt.
Those things are private. For just Leo and me.
I’m not turned on. I’m cold.
Conflict fills my chest. He’s pushed past his own limits to give me this because I wanted it. I can’t disappoint him. The people watching, I want them to be in awe of Leo. I want him to get the admiration he deserves, because the man is awesome. I don’t want these people to see me use my safe word.
I’ll have to find a way to power through.
“Jillian,” Leo says, his voice soft now. His hands rest on my shoulders.
I can do this. I twist my hands.
I don’t know how, but I will try and deliver a performance in front of these strangers.
The thought fills me with such unease my stomach twists.
I’ve never faked anything with Leo. Do I want to start now?
I don’t know how I can do this with the way I feel.
I can’t make anyone want me. I can’t put on a show. I don’t feel sexy.
I feel lost.
I start to cry and utter that one word that will stop everything. “Red.”
Layla
“Turn around and face me.” Michael’s deep voice shivers through me.
My eyes feel wide as saucers as I stare at the thick leather cuffs on the bed.
I have a momentary flash of rope tight around my wrists, cutting off my circulation. For a brief second, I’m sucked back into that alley and that cold, awful night when my world was changed forever.
I gasp in a breath, let the panic wash over me, and then blink it away. It fades from my mind like an old-fashioned television set, narrowing down into a pinprick of focus before it goes black.
Then I’m back in the room. With Michael.
His hands rest on my shoulders. “You okay?”
I nod.
“Let me hear the words.”
“I’m okay.”
He soothes over my bare arms. “Turn around and face me.”
I do. Slowly pivoting on my high heels until I see his face. It soothes me. Calms me down.
“Good.” He runs a finger down my cheek. “I want you to see my face the whole time, so you can remember who’s touching you.”
“As though I could ever forget.”
He tilts my chin. “Eyes on me, girl.”
This was Michael’s way, how he kept me present. Focused on him and our future and not the nightmares of the past.
He gently circles my right wrist and peers into my eyes, searching with intent.
My shoulders tighten. He’s being careful again, cautious.
I give him a bright smile, hoping to reassure him that I have my nerves under control, and he can let loose on me. Because more than anything that is what I want. It’s not bondage, it’s the symbol of what it represents. I need to put this to bed once and for all so I can be the woman I want to be. A woman Michael doesn’t have to hold back with.
His big fingers squeeze on the fine bones. “I can’t decide if I should strap you up by the posts, or lay you down on the bed.”
That sounds promising. I lick my lips. The faster we get on with it the faster it will be over.
He kisses me, full on the mouth, his tongue laying claim to me for one fraction of a second before retreating. “Let’s start standing, shall we?”
“Whatever you want.” As long as he starts.
He puts the cuff on my wrist but doesn’t fasten it. “Aren’t you a good girl?”
The leather is heavy against my skin. They used a rope that night, cutting off my circulation so my hands went numb. This leather is soft. The pressure on my wrists the only reminder of what they’d done.
It makes me hopeful.
He narrows his hazel eyes and again searches my expression. I relax my jaw so my growing agitation doesn’t show. Please don’t be careful. Take me.
Apparently satisfied with what he’s found in my face, he slowly
buckles the strap before testing the hold by rubbing his fingers between my skin and the leather.
He’s careful. So damn careful.
This isn’t what I want.
I want lust and passion.
I want him to be overwhelmed with the desire to consume me.
I want to be taken as only he can take me.
I want him to fucking devour me.
I blow out an exasperated breath and he raises his head from his work and gives me an arched brow. “Problems?”
Indignation fills my throat and leaves my mouth before I can stop it. “You promised.”
His jaw hardens. “Stop trying to control things, Layla.”
“But you promised.”
His gaze lasers in on me. “Who’s in charge here? Me? Or you?”
Okay, I need to calm down. I’m overanxious and letting it get the best of me. “You. But—”
He holds up a hand, cutting me off. “No buts. Just stand there and be quiet.”
Words, a million of them, fly through my head, but I press my lips together. Reminding myself this is about surrender. That I trust Michael. That my impatience, my desire to be free from that single event that changed the trajectory of my life, is what’s driving this desire to hurry things along.
He goes back to what he was doing, once again testing the straps before moving to the other wrist. He buckles me in with the same methodical care.
I barely pay attention. I stare at his dark, bent head and blurt, “Don’t ignore me.”
He growls. “You’re trying my patience.”
“Well good,” I snap.
Without a word he shakes his head, and sighs before returning to the wardrobe and pulling out leather ankle cuffs.
This isn’t how I envisioned things.
I pictured romantic and passionate. Pictured him snapping the cuffs in place before kissing me roughly. I need consuming. To get lost in him. So I can forget.
How can I obliterate that night when I’m cold? When he’s being clinical, and calculating?
I huff and puff and roll my eyes. He completely ignores me.
Instead, he pulls what looks like short straps from the wardrobe, and walks around me, clipping one end to my wrist and the other to the post.
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