Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 81937 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81937 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
“Cat got your tongue.”
I don’t stop my slow perusal of her. “You dressed to impress. Give your man a second to enjoy the view.”
“You’re not my man.”
“My ring on your finger says otherwise.”
Her huff is music to my ears. Slowly, oh so slowly, she’s inching back into her comfortable, confident self. I don’t know if it’s being back in the Underworld or bantering with me, but I’ll take it either way.
I walk a slow circle around her, and fuck. The temptation to throw my plan away is nearly overwhelming. But the plan is to seduce her into my bed. Tonight is simply doing it our way. “Do you trust me?”
“No. Next question.”
I chuckle and stop behind her. Her only response is a slight tensing in her shoulders. But she doesn’t turn to keep me in view. Good. “I’m not talking about your heart, Tink. I’m sure as fuck not talking about your soul.” I slowly drag her hair off her neck and twist the shining locks around my fist. “I’m talking about your body. Do you trust me with your body?”
“I …” She shivers. “Yes. Fine. I trust you that far.”
“Good.” With my free hand, I reach behind me and grab the blindfold off the mantle. I lean forward, bringing my chest against her back, and show her the silky padded fabric. “Then we can begin.”
“Oh, you asshole,” she breathes.
“Close your eyes.” I slip the blindfold over her head, careful not to tangle her hair. It takes a few seconds to adjust it, and then I go on one knee next to her. I guide her hand to my shoulder and proceed to take off her heels. Once I’m sure her balance is stable, I nudge her hand away and gather up her shoes and dress. They’re deposited in the little dresser on the other side of the bed.
I move back to stand in front of her. “Kneel.”
“I really hate you.”
“No, you don’t. Kneel.”
She sinks gracefully to her knees. I’ve seen her in this exact position a thousand times over the years, but never for me. The sheer satisfaction nearly knocks me back a step. Tink’s mine. She’s finally fucking mine. “Do not move from this spot. Do you understand?”
She wets her pink lips and finally nods. “Yes … Sir.”
Oh fuck, this woman is going to kill me. I leave before I can change my mind, stalking out of the room with heavy footsteps to let her know where I’m going. I don’t bother to be quiet shutting the door. The anticipation is half the game right now, and making her be patient will only enhance the payoff for both of us.
Three people wait for me outside the door, just as I requested. I look to Gaeton first. Of the trio, he’s the only one I’d call a friend—with the occasional benefits. Beast and Malone are more peers with a series of shared interests. I respect the hell out of them, but I’m very aware of the power they wield outside this club. Beast may be a general for the Man in Black, same as Gaeton, but there’s something about him that keeps everyone at a distance. Malone rules her own territory, one of the largest slices of Carver City. She’s also my neighbor to the south, though we’ve never had so much as a whisper of a territory dispute since I took over.
Really, the only thing they have in common is that they’ve played with Tink in the past and hold enough fondness for her to get over their issues with each other. At least for the duration of a scene.
Gaeton grins. “Interesting way to spend your wedding night.” He stands several inches taller than me, and at least half a foot taller than both Beast and Malone. The man is fucking huge.
We’ve already gone over the details. Shared domination of Tink for the duration of the scene. I’ve done shit like this before, but I’m usually one of the guests involved, rather than the Dom running the show. “You’ve all played with her before. You know what she likes. I want her on the edge, but don’t take her over.”
“We can do that.” Malone idly strokes her golden riding crop. It’s a ridiculous piece of equipment, the bottom of its handle encrusted with jewels that, knowing Malone, are all real. She’s wearing a pair of deep purple pants that fall in carefully tailored lines to hug her ankles and show off her shiny black heels that look like they could kill a man. A black silk blouse and suspenders finish the look, and with Malone, it’s always a look. Her short blond hair is styled back from her face. I’m still not sure how old she is. There are faint lines at the corners of her eyes that would probably deepen if she ever smiled, but that could put her anywhere between thirty and sixty.