Chapter 7 #2
"You're stunning," I tell her, meaning it.
I retrieve a feather from the bedside drawer, using it to trace light patterns across her skin, starting at her collarbone, circling her breasts, and trailing down her stomach. She shivers, goosebumps rising in the wake of the soft touch.
"This is about control," I explain, swapping the feather for a small riding crop. "Mine over you, and yours over yourself. I want to see how long you can hold back."
I tap the crop lightly against her inner thigh. Not enough to hurt, just enough to create a sharp sensation. Her breath catches.
"If you need me to stop, you know your safe words."
"Yes, Sir."
I begin a careful dance of sensation, the soft brush of my fingertips followed by the sharper tap of the crop. At first, I avoid her most sensitive areas to build anticipation, while watching her body respond to each touch.
When I finally trace my fingers between her legs, she's already wet.
"Eager," I observe with a smile.
"For you," she whispers.
I lean down, running my tongue along her inner thigh, close to where she wants me but not quite there. Her hips buck slightly, seeking contact.
"Patience, Skye," I remind her, administering a light tap with the crop to her thigh. "Remember, control."
I continue the torturous play, bringing her to the edge repeatedly only to deny her release. Her breathing becomes ragged, her skin flushed, perspiration glistening in the candlelight. She's magnificent in her struggle, fighting against both her restraints and her own desire.
"Please," she finally gasps, her control fraying. "Please, Sir, I need…"
"What do you need?" I ask, my voice deliberately calm despite the fire raging in my veins.
"You. Inside me. Please."
I shed my clothes, watching her eyes darken as she takes in my body. I roll on a condom before positioning myself between her spread thighs.
"Who do you belong to, Skye?" I ask, brushing the head of my cock against her entrance.
Her eyes meet mine, blazing with something that transcends simple desire. "You, Sir. Right now, I'm yours."
The qualification-"right now"-doesn't escape me. It's honest. Realistic. We've made no promises beyond the summer, beyond these walls.
Yet as I thrust into her, feeling her body welcome me, seeing her eyes close in ecstasy, I can't help but wonder if "right now" will ever be enough again.
I establish a rhythm, deep and controlled, watching her face as pleasure builds. Her walls tighten around me, her bound limbs straining as she approaches her peak.
"Not yet," I command, stilling my movements. "Look at me."
Her eyes flutter open, meeting mine. The connection is intense, intimate in a way I've never had with anyone else.
I can't look away. It's as if her eyes have me locked in place. Every sensation is intensified and building faster than I can control it.
"Now," I tell her, resuming my thrusts with renewed intensity. "Come for me now, Skye."
Her release is powerful, waves of pleasure visibly washing through her as she cries out my name. The sound of it, my name on her lips as she comes apart, is my undoing. My rhythm falters as my climax hits, intense and all-consuming.
For a moment, the world narrows to just us, connected, complete.
Afterward, I carefully untie her, checking each area where the ropes have left marks on her skin. I massage her wrists and ankles, ensuring proper circulation, before drawing her into my arms.
"You did beautifully," I murmur, pressing a kiss to her temple.
She nestles against my chest, her usual resistance to aftercare noticeably absent tonight. It feels like progress, like trust.
We lie in comfortable silence for a while, her body warm against mine, her breathing steady and calm. I’m pensive as I run my fingers through her hair, savoring this moment of peace.
"I need to travel for work soon," I say, breaking the quiet. "Just for a few days."
She shifts slightly, looking up at me. "Oh? When do you leave?" she asks me while tracing patterns on my chest with her fingertip.
"End of the week. I'll be gone through the weekend."
She nods, her expression unreadable. "That's fine. I've got a lot of clients booked, anyway."
Part of me wants to ask her to come with me, to extend our time together beyond these walls. But that would cross a line we've silently agreed not to approach. Our arrangement is confined to Club Red, with no outside entanglements and no real-world complications.
"I'd like to have some phone play while I'm gone," I say instead, watching her reaction carefully. "If you're interested."
Her lips curve into a small smile. "I might be persuaded."
"Oh?" I raise an eyebrow, enjoying this playful side of her. "And what would that take?"
"Surprise me," she challenges, a glint in her eye.
I chuckle, tightening my arm around her. "Be careful what you wish for, Skye. I can be very creative, even from a distance."
"I'm counting on it."
We lapse back into silence, but there's a new tension in the air, anticipation, possibly. The thought of maintaining our connection while I'm away feels both risky and necessary. I've never done that with a sub before, nor have I ever felt the need to stay connected beyond physical proximity.
Eventually, she stirs. "I should get going. Early client tomorrow."
I nod, helping her gather her clothes. I watch as she dresses, missing her nakedness already. When she's ready, I walk her to the door.
"Text me when you get home," I tell her. It's not a request.
"Yes, Sir," she says, the honorific sending a pleasant shiver down my spine.
I pull her in for one last kiss, deeper, more possessive than I intended. When we break apart, her cheeks are flushed, her eyes bright.
Outside my suite, we encounter Mase in the hallway. His face is impassive as always, but his eyes miss nothing. I can practically see him cataloging Skye's appearance, my hand at the small of her back, and the lingering intimacy between us.
"Mase," I acknowledge with a nod.
He doesn't say a word. Just a nod in my direction is my only indication he even heard me.
I walk Skye to the elevator, aware of Mase watching us. He's always been perceptive, dangerous in his line of work, annoying in mine.
"Be extra vigilant coming and going," I murmur to her as the elevator doors open. "Security concerns."
Her brow furrows. "Is something wrong?"
"Just a precaution. Club business." I press a kiss to her forehead. "Nothing for you to worry about."
She doesn't look convinced but nods anyway. "Goodnight, Gage."
"Goodnight, Skye."
As I watch the elevator doors close, something in my chest tightens as she disappears from view. Turning, I find Mase still there, his expression unreadable.
"Problem?" I ask, walking back toward him.
"Not yet." He falls into step beside me. "But my guys have spotted surveillance around the perimeter. More frequent than usual."
"Hunter mentioned it," I acknowledge. "Any leads?"
"Working on it." His voice is measured, careful. "In the meantime, you might want to be more cautious about who you're seen with."
I stop, turning to face him. "Meaning?"
"Meaning your new friend is a civilian. If someone's watching the club, they're watching who comes and goes. Who associates with whom." His eyes hold mine. "She could become a target by association."
The thought sends a chill through me. "I'll take care of it."
"See that you do." He claps a hand on my shoulder, his grip firm. "We protect our own here, but she's not one of us. Is she?"
I know what he's asking, if I've made a claim to her.
If I call her mine, then she is offered that protection, but Mase knows me.
Knows I don't do that, and if I were to say she was, it would be a huge deal.
Still saying she isn't one of us, and therefore isn't worth the extra protection, doesn't feel right either.
"No, she isn't," I say against my better judgment.
As he walks away, his words echo in my mind. Not one of us. It's true, in a sense. Skye isn't part of our inner circle, and doesn't know about the complex web of connections and obligations that bind us together. I don't want anyone to know about my real life outside these walls.
And that's exactly how it needs to stay.
Before heading home, I pour myself a drink while I’m cleaning up my room.
I try to focus on my trip planning, booking hotels, arranging meetings, and preparing questions for the program administrators.
But all I can think about is Skye, her smile, her taste, the way she surrenders to me so completely yet never loses that spark of defiance.
My phone buzzes with a text.
Skye: Home safe. Still feeling you inside me.
Heat floods through me at her words. I finish my drink in one swallow before replying.
Me: Good girl. Sleep well. Dream of me.