Chapter 11
The request—so different from the demands I endured at the facility—makes my breath catch. "Yes, Sir."
His fingers find the hem of my shirt, lifting it slowly. His fingers find the hem of my shirt, lifting it slowly. I raise my arms, allowing him to pull it over my head. The air feels cool against my skin, raising goosebumps across my exposed flesh.
I fight the instinct to cover myself, to hide the body that still feels foreign to me.
"You're beautiful," Aiden says, his eyes moving over me with reverence rather than assessment.
I feel my cheeks heat at the compliment. At the facility, my body was appraised like merchandise, evaluated for its worth to potential buyers. Aiden's gaze is different—appreciative but respectful, seeing me rather than just my physical form.
His hands move to the waistband of my leggings, fingers hooking beneath the elastic. "Still okay?" he asks, checking in again.
"Yes," I whisper, my voice steadier than I expected.
He slides the leggings down my legs, his touch gentle as I step out of them. I stand before him in just my underwear, my heart hammering against my ribs. There's vulnerability in this exposure, but also a strange power—I chose this. I'm allowing him to see me.
His fingers trace the edge of my bra, and I shiver at the contact. This intimate touch feels different from anything I've experienced before—gentle, asking rather than taking.
He reaches behind me, unhooking my bra with practiced ease. As it falls away, I resist the urge to cross my arms over my chest. Instead, I stand straight, letting him see all of me.
"Beautiful," he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. His hands hover just above my skin, not quite touching. "May I?"
I nod, not trusting my voice. When his palms finally make contact with my bare skin, sliding up from my waist to cup my breasts, I gasp at the sensation. His touch is reverent, exploring rather than possessing.
"Tell me what you're feeling," he commands gently, his thumbs circling my nipples until they harden beneath his touch.
The sensations rippling through me are overwhelming. I arch into his touch, a soft moan escaping my lips before I can stop it.
"It... it feels good," I manage, my voice barely above a whisper. "Like waking up. Like remembering."
His eyes darken at my words, pupils expanding until there's just a thin ring of blue surrounding them. The hunger I see there doesn't frighten me—it thrills me.
"More?" he asks, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through me.
"Please," I breathe.
His hands slide down my ribs, fingers hooking into the waistband of my underwear. He kneels before me, looking up to meet my eyes as he slowly draws the fabric down my legs. The position—him on his knees before me—creates a strange inversion of power that makes my breath catch.
I step out of my underwear, now completely naked before him. I should feel exposed, vulnerable, but instead I feel... seen. Truly seen, perhaps for the first time.
Aiden rises to his feet in one fluid motion, towering over me once more. He remains fully clothed, the contrast between his covered body and my nakedness creating a power dynamic that sends a shiver through me.
His eyes never leave mine as his hands return to my body, skimming over my shoulders, down my arms, across my stomach.
"You're trembling," he says, his voice deep and concerned. "Are you cold? Afraid?"
"Not afraid," I whisper. "Just... feeling everything. It's intense."
A smile touches his lips. "Good. I want you to feel everything." His hands frame my face, thumbs stroking my cheekbones. "But first, I need to even things up a bit."
He steps back and begins unbuttoning his shirt, revealing his chest inch by tantalizing inch.
I watch, mesmerized by the play of muscles beneath his skin, the dark trail of hair that disappears beneath his waistband.
When he shrugs the shirt from his shoulders, I can't help but stare.
His body is powerful, marked with scars that tell stories I want to learn.
"May I touch you?" I ask, the question slipping out before I can stop it.
His eyes darken. "Yes."
My fingers reach out tentatively, hovering just above his skin before making contact. When I finally touch him, the warmth of his body sends a jolt through me. I trace the contours of his chest, exploring the firm planes and ridges, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my palm.
"You're beautiful too," I whisper, surprising myself with the words.
Aiden's smile deepens, something flashing in his eyes that makes my stomach flip. "Thank you," he says, his voice rougher than before.
I continue my exploration, fascinated by the differences between us—his body hard where mine is soft, strong where I feel vulnerable. When my fingers brush across a scar near his collarbone, I pause.
"How did you get this?" I ask, tracing the silvery line.
"A story for another time," he says gently, capturing my hand and bringing it to his lips. The kiss he presses to my palm is tender, reverent, making my breath catch.
Then, his fingers move down to my wrist, where they tighten.
Almost involuntarily, I tug against his hold, but there’s no give.
“Now,” he says, holding my gaze, “I want you to submit to me. If you need to use your safe word, everything stops, but unless you do, I’m in control.”
A flutter runs through my body. The shift in his tone, the tightening of his fingers around my wrist—it sends heat pooling low in my belly. This is what I've been craving, what I've been afraid to ask for directly.
"Yes, Sir," I whisper, my voice steadier than I expected.
His blue eyes darken further, and he pulls me closer, his free hand sliding around my waist. "On the bed," he commands. "On your back."