Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 66217 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66217 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
It’s the collar.
I lift it carefully, shooting a nervous look at the door. I know what a collar means when it comes to BDSM. It’s a claim, a sign marking consent of ownership, of submission. This collar is gorgeous, more jewelry than utility. It’s a choker that drips rubies in various lengths. I hold it up to my neck and shiver. The pattern will frame my bare breasts and shoulders when I put it on.
I’m nervous for sure, but nervousness can be a good thing. I lick my lips. “Okay, I can do this.” The question is whether I obey or start pushing boundaries immediately. I look around again. “If you’re going to play this way, then we need a damn negotiation first.” A safe word, though the very concept seems almost laughable after what we’ve already done.
No, damn it. I don’t have to keep being reckless just because I started out that way. Wolf is familiar enough with kink to offer me this collar, so he can damn well sit through a conversation before we cross yet another line that we can’t uncross.
I carefully set the collar back in the box but don’t close it. Then I return the blindfold to its place.
And sit down to wait.
There’s no clock in this room, but I wait long enough that I’m heartily glad for the en suite bathroom. It has a whole treasure trove of goodies too. The tiled walls of the shower also contain sturdy anchors for bondage games. Under the sink, I find enough industrial-strength cleaners to make me laugh. As if there were any doubts about what went on in this room.
In my snooping, I find a drawer full of a dozen different kinds of lube, and another with a wide selection of dildos and vibrators. Truly, it’s a kinky wonderland.
I finally end up in the large chair. It’s more comfortable than I’d expected and wide enough to accommodate a number of body types, with extra room so someone could slip their knees on either side as they ride . . .
The door opens softly, moving slowly enough that I’m half-sure I’ve fallen asleep and am dreaming. But then he’s there, filling the doorway, his skull mask the only thing light about him.
Wolf.
He steps into the room and closes the door behind him, just as softly, just as slowly. There’s a faint click as he locks it, and then he crosses his arms over his chest. “I should have known you wouldn’t obey.”
“You haven’t earned obedience.”
He laughs dryly. “I just paid a million dollars for you, Red. I think I’ve earned plenty.”
“Oh, that?” I don’t lean forward, forcing my body to stay relaxed. “I thought that was for everyone else’s benefit.”
“In part.” He doesn’t move. “But it’s currently sitting in your bank account, so take off that fucking dress and get on your knees.”
My pussy pulses in response to the rough words. “Take off the mask.”
“Not yet.”
There’s no room for argument in his voice, so I change tactics. “You offered me a collar. You understand what it means?”
“It means you’re mine.” Still, he doesn’t move.
I am. I bite back the words before they can slip past my lips. He’s too sure of me. He has reason to be, but that doesn’t mean I’m not capable of digging in my heels over this. “I want a safe word. I want you to promise to respect it.”
Another of those dry chuckles. “You’d only have my word that I will.”
“Your word is good enough for me. Even if you haven’t been completely honest with me.”
Is there a hesitation in his response? I’m not sure. I don’t get a chance to question it before he nods once. “Fine. Pick your safe word, baby.”
“Huntsman.”
“Cute. Now that that’s out of the way.” He pushes off the door and snaps his gloved fingers. “Take off the dress. Get on your knees.”
“You’re not even going to ask me what I’m into? What my limits are?”
“We covered this. I wouldn’t be a very good stalker if I didn’t know shit about you, Ruby.” He keeps talking in that low, growling voice before I can react to his tongue forming the syllables of my name. “You like a little pain. You want to be bad, want me to hurt other people just to get to your pretty pussy. You want to pretend I’m forcing you into a corner, but you’re so wet, you’re practically shaking for me.”
I lick my lips. “That’s still very limited.”
“You have a problem with something, tell me, and we’ll discuss it.”
“Just like that.”
“Just like that. You’re mine, baby. Wearing that collar isn’t just about everyone who sees it knowing I own that pussy—that I own you. I take care of what’s mine.”
It seems too easy, but maybe I’m just looking for an excuse to push him until he takes what he wants. I might have gotten away with pretending I was being coerced before, but I came here of my own free will. I signed that contract. I stepped onto the stage.