Chapter 10
LUKE
"Now it's my turn."
The words hang in the air between us, and I can't do anything except stare at the woman standing over me. My wife. My sweet, submissive wife who has spent the last several hours trembling and moaning and begging me for more.
Except she wasn't submitting at all, was she? She was playing me.
The realization hits me like a bucket of cold water, cutting through the last of the sedative fog. Every moment of tonight replays in my head, reframed by this new information.
All of it was calculated. All of it was planned. She knew exactly what I was doing, and she played along anyway.
"You're insane," I say, and I'm not sure if it's an accusation or a compliment.
"Learned from the best." She straightens up, moving away from me, and I get my first real look at what she's done to herself.
The black silk robe skims her body like water, tied loosely at the waist so it gapes open with every movement.
Beneath it, she's still naked—I can see glimpses of the skin I spent hours worshipping.
The mask on her face is identical to mine, black and elegant, transforming her into someone I almost don't recognize.
Almost. But I'd know those lips anywhere. I'd know the curve of her jaw, the line of her throat, the way she holds herself when she's about to do something wicked.
My cock twitches against my thigh, roaring to life, and I curse my body for its predictable response. I'm tied up, drugged, and completely at her mercy—and I'm getting hard.
She notices. Of course she notices.
"Well." Her smile sharpens. "At least part of you is happy about this."
"Seraphina—"
"Shh." She presses one finger to my lips, silencing me. "You had your turn, husband. You got to chase me, catch me, tie me up, make me beg. Now it's my turn to play."
I test the restraints again, pulling against them with all my strength. They don't budge. She fucking tied me up.
"Where did you even get these?" I ask, genuinely amused.
"." She laughs at the expression on my face. "What, you think you're the only one who can order specialty equipment?
I'm so fucking proud I could burst.
"You brilliant, devious woman," I breathe.
Surprise flickers in her eyes.
She doesn't know me as well as she thinks she does. Not if she thought I'd be anything other than completely, devastatingly turned on by this.
"You're not mad?" she asks, and for just a second, the confident predator wavers, replaced by my wife—the woman who still sometimes can't believe I love her as much as I do.
"Mad?" I let out a laugh that echoes off the stone walls.
"Seraphina, you just pulled off the most elaborate counter-ambush I've ever seen.
You found my plans, coordinated everything, drugged me with my own sedative, and tied me to the same chaise where I just made you come umpteen times.
Mad doesn't begin to cover what I'm feeling. "
"What are you feeling, then?"
I hold her gaze through both our masks. "I'm feeling like I married the most incredible woman on the planet. And I'm feeling like if you don't do something with that power you're holding over me, I might actually lose my mind."
Her smile returns, slower this time, more genuine. "Well. When you put it like that."
She moves toward me with a confidence I've never seen from her before. In all our games, all our scenarios, she's always been the prey. The one who runs, who gets caught, who surrenders. Even when she's on top in bed, there's always an understanding that I'm letting her have control.
This is different. This is her taking control—not because I gave it to her, but because she claimed it for herself.
And fuck if that isn't the hottest thing I've ever experienced.
She straddles my hips, settling her weight over my rapidly hardening cock. The silk robe parts, and I can feel the heat of her against me, separated by nothing. She's wet—I can feel that too. Whatever she's been doing while I was unconscious, it's turned her on as much as it's turning me on now.
"I've thought about this," she says, rolling her hips slightly. Just enough friction to make me groan. "For weeks, I've been thinking about what I would do when I finally had you at my mercy."
"And what did you decide?" My voice comes out strained.
"Everything." She echoes my words from earlier, and the symmetry of it makes me want to kiss her and strangle her in equal measure. "I decided I want everything, Luke. The same way you always take everything from me."
She leans down, her lips brushing my ear. "I'm going to tease you the way you teased me. Make you beg the way you made me beg. And when you're completely desperate, when you're out of your mind with wanting me..."
She pulls back, meeting my eyes through the masks.
"Then I'll take what I want."
I've never been more turned on in my life. I've also never been less in control, and the combination is doing something to my brain that I can't fully process. I'm usually the one making threats, making promises, dictating the terms of our games.
Being on the receiving end is... different. Disorienting. Exhilarating in ways I didn't expect.
"Seraphina." Her name comes out a desperate whisper.
"Yes, husband?" She's enjoying this. I can see it in the curve of her lips, hear it in the purr of her voice.
"Whatever you're going to do to me..." I swallow hard. "Do it. Please."
Her eyebrows rise above the mask. "Did you just say please?"
"Don't get used to it."
She laughs—a real laugh, full and genuine, and it breaks through the tension like sunlight through clouds. For a moment, we're not predator and prey, captor and captive. We're just us. Luke and Seraphina, still figuring out all the ways we fit together.
Then her expression shifts, and the predator is back.
"I'm going to take my time with you," she says, her voice dropping to that low register that makes my cock ache. "And you're going to lie there and take it, because you can't do anything else."
"I could safeword," I point out. Not that I'm going to. Not in a million years.
She leans down again, her lips brushing my ear. "Your safeword still applies." Her breath is warm against my skin, making me shiver. "But I don't think you're going to use it."
She's right. We both know she's right.
"No," I admit. "I'm not."
"Good." She presses a kiss to my jaw, soft and almost sweet. "Then let's play, husband."
She climbs off me, and I make a sound of protest at the loss of her warmth. She ignores it, moving to the table where I laid out the wine and grapes hours ago. I watch her pour a glass of cabernet, her movements deliberate, unhurried.
She's making me wait. The way I made her wait.
God, she really did learn from the best.
"You know," she says conversationally, swirling the wine in the glass, "I wasn't sure I could pull this off. You're always so careful, so thorough. I kept expecting you to find the supplies I'd hidden. Or notice that the water bottles had been moved.”
"Remind me never to underestimate you again," I say.
"Oh, I will." She returns to the chaise with the wine glass in hand, settling beside me. "Every single day for the rest of our lives."
She takes a sip of wine, and I watch her throat work as she swallows. Then she leans down, and I know what's coming—the same move I pulled on her hours ago, wine passed from her mouth to mine.
But knowing doesn't prepare me for the reality of it.
Her lips seal over mine, and the wine flows between us, warm and rich and flavored with her. I swallow instinctively, and she makes a sound of approval against my mouth has me writhing beneath her.
When she pulls back, her smile is sharp enough to cut.
"How does it feel?" she asks. "Being on the other side?"
I lick wine from my lips, tasting her beneath the cabernet. "Honestly?"
"Honestly."
I meet her eyes through the masks—her brown ones glittering with mischief and power, mine probably showing every ounce of the desperate want I'm feeling.
"It feels like I have the only person who can keep up with me."
Her expression softens, just for a moment. Then the predator is back, and she's reaching for the grapes.
"Let's see how well you keep up with this."