Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
CALLUM
I'm on my third cup of coffee when Nadia finally comes downstairs.
She's wearing leggings and an oversized sweater that slips off one shoulder, her braids piled on top of her head in a messy knot. No makeup. No armor. She looks softer than she did last night, and somehow that makes her more dangerous.
"Morning." She heads straight for the coffee maker without looking at me. "Please tell me that storm magically disappeared overnight."
"Still snowing. Should taper off by noon." I watch her pour a cup and add an alarming amount of sugar. "Roads won't be passable until tomorrow at the earliest."
"Yasmine is going to kill me."
"You texted her?"
"Three times. She's moved from furious to resigned to planning how to rearrange the rehearsal dinner around my absence." Nadia finally turns to face me, leaning against the counter. "Apparently Tyler's cousin can fill in for the toast practice. I'm officially useless."
"You're not useless. You're snowed in. That’s not fair."
"That's very generous of you." She takes a long sip of coffee, studying me over the rim. "So. Last night."
"Last night."
"That room."
"What about it?"
Her eyes narrow. "You're going to make me say it, aren't you?"
"I'm not going to make you do anything." I set down my mug and give her my full attention. "But if you want to have a conversation, I need you to be direct about what you're asking. That's how this works."
"How what works?"
"Any of it. Negotiation. Communication. Trust." I keep my voice even, measured. "I don't guess at what my partners want. I don't assume. If you're curious about something, you ask. If you want something, you tell me. No hints, no games, no hoping I'll read your mind."
Nadia is quiet for a moment, processing. Then she sets down her own mug with a decisive click.
"Fine. Direct." She crosses her arms. "I haven't stopped thinking about that room since I walked out of it.
I've been lying in that very comfortable guest bed imagining what it would feel like to be restrained on that bench.
To have someone tell me what to do and actually mean it.
" Her chin lifts. "I want to know what that's like. With you. Before this weekend is over."
My blood heats at her words, but I keep my expression neutral. "That's direct."
"You asked for it."
"I did." I move around the kitchen island, closing some of the distance between us but leaving enough space that she doesn't feel crowded. "Now I need to ask you some questions. And I need honest answers, even if they feel uncomfortable."
"Okay."
"Have you ever done anything like this before? Bondage, power exchange, impact play?"
"No. I told you that last night."
"I'm confirming. There's a difference between theoretical interest and practical experience, and I need to know exactly where you're starting from." I hold her gaze. "Have you ever been restrained during sex?"
"Once. My college boyfriend tied my wrists with a scarf. It lasted about thirty seconds before I got bored and took over."
"Why did you take over?"
"Because he didn't know what he was doing. He tied me up and then just... stared at me. Like he was waiting for instructions." She rolls her eyes. "If I wanted to give instructions, I wouldn't have let him tie me up in the first place."
"So you wanted him to take control, but he couldn't."
"He couldn't hold it. The second I pushed back, he folded." Her expression shifts, something vulnerable flickering through. "Every man I've been with has folded eventually. I push, they give. I test, they fail. And then I'm stuck running everything, which defeats the entire purpose."
Understanding settles into place. Nadia isn't looking for someone to dominate her. She's looking for someone who can.
"What's your safe word?"
She blinks at the shift. "What?"
"Safe word. A word you say when you need everything to stop immediately. It has to be something you wouldn't normally say during sex. Something distinct."
"I don't know. Red?"
"Red works. Traffic light system. Green means good, keep going. Yellow means slow down, check in. Red means full stop, no questions asked." I take another step closer. "If you say red, everything ends. Instantly. No explanations required, no judgment, no consequences. Understood?"
"Understood."
"I also need to know your limits. Things you absolutely don't want, things that scare you, things that are off the table entirely."
Nadia considers this. "I don't know what I don't know. This is all new."
"Then let's start with the obvious. Anything involving pain you're not prepared for. Anything involving breath restriction. Anything involving other people." I tick through the list. "We're not doing anything extreme today. This is exploration, not a test of your limits."
"What are we doing then?"
"That depends on what you want to explore." I'm close enough now to see the rapid pulse at the base of her throat. "Tell me what you imagined last night. When you were lying in that guest bed, what did you picture?"
Her breath catches. "I pictured being tied down. Not being able to move while you did whatever you wanted."
"What did I do?"
"I don't know. That's the part I couldn't figure out. My imagination kept jumping around because I don't actually know what happens next." She laughs, self-conscious. "I told you. Theoretical interest."
"Then let's turn theory into practice." I reach out slowly, giving her time to pull away, and curl my fingers around her wrist. Her pulse hammers against my palm.
"I'm going to take you downstairs. I'm going to restrain you on that bench.
And then I'm going to show you exactly what surrender feels like. "
Her pupils dilate. "Now?"
"Unless you'd rather wait."
"No." The word comes out fast, almost breathless. "I don't want to wait."
"Then come with me."
I lead her through the house, her wrist still in my grip. She follows without resistance, her breathing shallow and quick. By the time we reach the door to the playroom, her whole body is vibrating with anticipation.
"Last chance to change your mind." I unlock the door but don't open it.
"Once we're inside, I'm in control. You follow my instructions.
You don't touch yourself without permission.
You don't come without permission. You use your safe word if you need to stop.
" I turn to face her. "Tell me you understand. "
"I understand."
"Tell me your safe word."
"Red."
"Good girl."
The words have an immediate effect. Her breath hitches, her eyes widen, and a flush spreads across her cheeks that has nothing to do with embarrassment.
I file that away. Praise responsive. Important information.
The playroom looks different in daylight. Softer, somehow, with winter light filtering through the high windows and catching the deep red of the walls. I guide Nadia to the center of the room and release her wrist.
"Take off your sweater."
She hesitates for just a second, then pulls the oversized sweater over her head. Underneath she's wearing a simple black tank top that clings to her curves.
"The tank top too."
Another hesitation, longer this time. Then she strips it off and stands before me in just her leggings and a deep purple bra that does incredible things for her cleavage.
"You're beautiful." I circle her slowly, taking in the warm brown of her skin, the curves she carries with unconscious grace. "Has anyone ever told you that while you were standing still and letting them look?"
"Most men are too busy trying to get to the next step to actually look."
"Their loss." I complete my circuit and stop in front of her. "I'm going to look. I'm going to take my time. And you're going to stand there and let me."
Her jaw tightens, but she doesn't move. Doesn't argue. Just holds my gaze with that stubborn defiance that makes me want to break her apart piece by piece.
"Hands behind your back."
She complies. The position pushes her chest forward, puts her on display. I watch her fight the urge to fidget, to cover herself, to take back some of the control she's surrendered.
"Good." I move to the cabinet and select a length of black silk rope. "I'm going to bind your wrists. The rope is soft, won't leave marks if you don't struggle. If you feel numbness or tingling, tell me immediately."
"Okay."
I return to her side and gather her wrists gently, wrapping the rope in careful loops. Not too tight. Secure enough that she can't slip free, loose enough that circulation isn't compromised.
"Pull against it."
She does, testing the bonds. Her expression shifts when she realizes she can't get free.
"How does that feel?"
"Strange." Her voice is lower than before. "Good strange. Like I can stop worrying about what to do with my hands."
"That's the point. You don't have to do anything right now except feel." I guide her toward the padded bench, positioning her so she's bent forward over it with her bound wrists resting at the small of her back. "Color?"
"Green."
I run my hand down her spine, feeling her shiver under my touch.
"You've spent your whole life being in charge.
Making decisions. Carrying the weight of everyone's expectations.
" My fingers trace the edge of her bra strap.
"Right now, you don't have to carry anything.
All you have to do is take what I give you. "
"What are you going to give me?"
"Whatever you can handle." I unclip her bra with practiced ease, letting it fall away. "And then a little bit more."
She gasps as the cool air hits her bare skin. I palm her breasts from behind, feeling the weight of them, the way her nipples harden against my hands.
"Callum."
"Yes?"
"I need..." She trails off, struggling to find the words.
"Tell me what you need."
"I don't know. More. Something."
"Something isn't a direction, Nadia." I pinch her nipples lightly, and she moans. "Use your words."
"Touch me. Please."
"Where?"
"You know where."