Chapter 25
Ilook down at the handcuff around my ankle after he leaves the room.
I guess he doesn’t want me to leave. I giggle, letting my head fall back against the pillow.
I love this moment—this night. This is the kind of Dom I want.
He’s teasing, commanding, cheeky. His winks.
His firm hands. He’s a softie, but not really. He’s having fun, and so am I.
But you are not seeing him again.
I flop my head side to side. There’s no clock on the wall or on the nightstands. I’m tired, but the adrenaline hasn’t let go of me yet. My body hums with anticipation. How long has it been since we left the bar? I hear my mom’s screams already, but I don’t care.
This is worth it.
An anxious buzz runs through me. I know what’s coming. He said he was going to fuck my ass, and he’s not going to be gentle. That’s what I signed up for. That’s the deal I made. I dug this grave.
Time to reap what I sow.
He returns with a glass of whiskey in each hand. I almost sit up, but I stop myself as I remember the rules. I can move, technically, but I’m not supposed to. I want to stay. I want to obey; I don’t want to push the punishments any further.
He takes a long sip of whiskey, and my mouth moves before my brain can stop it.
“I don’t think that’s going to help your problem.”
He chuckles dangerously. “You are something fucking else.” I watch him take another sip. “I knew it would come to this.”
He slams the rest of the glass and sets mine on his dresser before disappearing again.
My heart races. I’m smiling, but I’m also nervous, the kind of nervous that makes you feel more alive. I yelp when he returns—holding a roll of duct tape.
“No!” I scream, though there’s a clear edge of excitement in my voice. “I’ll shut the fuck up.”
“You will,” he says, stepping forward. “Because you won’t be able to talk.”
“You don’t have to. I’ll be quiet.”
“You’ve proven otherwise.” He pulls a long strip of tape from the roll with a loud rip. “I don’t like when you lie to me, and I really don’t fucking like when you disobey me.”
Holy shit! He’s really going to do it. Tape my mouth shut. My heart is nearly beating out of my chest.
“I’ll be quiet. Mute, even. I promise.”
“Promise,” he repeats as his gaze narrows. “That’s a big word. Do you mean it?”
I nod quickly.
“Mute,” he repeats with a laugh. “I would love to fucking see that.”
I mime zipping my lips shut and throwing away the key.
He hums again, pleased. He sets the duct tape on the dresser then grabs my glass of whiskey. I watch him approach, and he sits on the edge of the bed next to me.
“Sit up. Open your lips to take a sip.”
He brings the glass to my mouth. I drink, slow and obedient, holding his gaze. The whiskey burns so good going down my throat.
His smirk widens. “Finish it.”
My eyes go wide then flick down. His cock is no longer limp. It’s half hard.
I asked for this, every single second of what comes next.