Chapter 59 #2
“Holy Fuck.” I whisper, touching one. They’re meant for restraints.
My brain generates a kaleidoscope of visions, all graphic, sweaty, and hedonistic.
Images of me, anchored to the bed with colorful cloth around my wrists, tethered to the rings while I strain, my legs wrapped high around Stone’s waist as he kneels in the middle of the bed.
I can imagine his big body, moving over mine while he also presses me down into the mattress, his hands holding onto openings in the headboard.
It’s all purposeful. The sexy sheets. The pillows. The rings. He is going to destroy me on this bed, and I can’t wait.
My fingers trail along the edge of the bed, and I moan, feeling the material.
It’s some of the softest bedding I’ve ever felt.
The last bed I slept in was at Kingsley’s.
I didn’t mind sleeping on my little pallet when I first moved in.
It wasn’t that important to me, but I guess Stone isn’t a fan of us fucking on the thin mattress I was using.
I assumed that when he told me we weren’t done, we would use his bed, the wall, the floor, or whatever other surface we came upon.
I’ve also had sex with him in a forest, the shower, and on a kitchen table.
Something tells me that Stone isn’t fussy about where we have sex, and I have to admit that when he’s touching me, I don’t care much either.
My eyes spot a medium-sized black velvet bag with a drawstring resting in the middle of the bed. I crawl on the bed and pick it up. It’s heavy. A note is attached. Something about the tilted writing tickles at my memory, but the words make my mouth drop open.
Countess,
Don’t ever let me see you sleeping on the fucking floor again.
The toys are for you, but they belong to me. You will wait for me to use them in your ass.
Stone.
“It wasn’t the floor. It’s a pallet,” I grumble aloud, touching the words on the thick white card.
The following line on the note makes me open the drawstring and flip it upside down.
Out tumble 3 bubble-wrapped cylinders. I unwrap the layers first and yelp, covering my mouth with my hand.
It’s a metallic silver butt plug with an onyx stone in the squat, heart-shaped handle.
It's almost the size of my fist. I swallow back a nervous snort. There’s no way…
right? It’s insane of him to think it will fit inside me, but then again, his cock is very thick, and I wrap my fist around the cool metal, remembering his girth in my hand and my mouth.
Maybe he’s right. If I plan on anal sex with him, maybe I will need to practice and work up to this one.
The plug is the width of his dick, maybe even a bit smaller.
I unwrap what I can already tell are two more.
They are smaller, but are designed the same way.
A medium-sized one and another that is much smaller, the size of two fingers.
I pick up the note and reread it. His warning jumps out at me.
What does he mean, the toys are for me, but they belong to him?
My body flushes at the thought of the possibilities.
Repacking the toys, I flop on my back and stare up at the ceiling, confusion and lust battling for precedence in my brain.
Confusion wins. How did he get the bed here?
I know I left the door locked. Did they break in?
But the lock looked okay. Had he made a copy and somehow given it to Onyx?
Or did he leave me while I was sleeping and come back here with my key?
I’m definitely a heavy sleeper and could have missed him sneaking out to do this.
My cheeks heat up thinking that he must have had Onyx help him, or even had Onyx deliver the toys and bed while Stone and I were at the cabin.
It’ll be another reason for me to be embarrassed around Onyx.
A ping comes in on my phone, and I check it. I’ve neglected my messages since I walked out of Kingsley’s jeep and walked the dark forest in search of Stone.
Sophia: Did you find him? Your brother is going to kill me if you end up missing or dead in some ditch.
Kingsley: What happened with the sexy biker?
Dru: Silas says he is keeping Jagger forever.
Meela: You missed girls' night! I hope I can see you next month! Lara says hi, btw.
I laugh at the picture Dru sent of Silas holding Jagger like a baby and feeding him with a pair of tweezers. I ignore Kingsley and Meela’s text for now and shoot out a message to Sophia.
Me: I’m okay. Not missing.
Her reply comes in immediately.
Sophia: THREE DAYS! I lied to Jace and told him you were still with Kingsley and decided to stay longer. You are in trouble! And I hope you got dicked down long and hard for the last three days, otherwise my two new gray hairs were for nothing.
I smirk at her message. Sophia has no idea. I’m still sore.
Me: I’m okay. Alive and well.
Sophia: Don’t think I don’t hear a deflection when I read one.
You are talking to the queen of avoiding talking about a secret dick.
I hope he was everything you imagined. Call me after you’ve soaked in some Epsom salt for a day.
Trust me. It works. It’s a requirement after getting freaky with your brother.
Me: You ruined it, Sophia. I love you. Go back to being gross with Jace and leave me alone.
I send a message to Meela apologizing and lying through my teeth, telling her I was with another friend.
I didn’t even remember girls' night. It was a few days ago, around the time Stone was fucking me on his kitchen table.
I was supposed to be with my girls, but I was getting fucked into a hard pine table.
Stripping out of his T-shirt, I bring it to my nose, breathing in his distinct scent.
Placing it on my new bed, I head to my shower, and the surprises keep coming.
Son of a bitch. There, sitting on the sink, is a basket filled with things.
The bottle of oil he used on me at his house.
A bag of Epsom salt and an electric heating pad are also in the basket.
I stare in the mirror, and my reflection shows a woman with a glazed look on her face.
I fill the standard tub, adding the Epsom salt and my honeysuckle bath soap, wishing that I had used his deep tub when I was with him.
Next time. Immediately following that thought is another about the possibility that I may never be at his cabin again.
When this thing ends, and he intimated that it would at some point, I won’t have a reason to visit his amazing rustic cabin.
Once the tub is filled, I lower my body and groan at the heat radiating through my body. I wash my legs, spotting all the bruises. I’m covered in him. I run my fingers over the tattoo on my inner thigh, memories assailing me.
Soon, the water grows cold, and I climb out.
I’m too tired to wash my hair, and I should, but I can barely keep my eyes open.
Climbing out of the bath, I wrap a towel around my body and make my way back into my room.
The new bed is calling me. Stone was right, I am exhausted.
My body was running on adrenaline and nerves earlier.
I pull his shirt over my head and crawl into the bed, pulling the duvet over me.
The bedsheet is just as soft, and damn if the layers of padding don’t mold to my body.
It’s perfect, and I breathe in his scent, falling into a deep sleep.