38. Ivory
The hinges on the shed door creaked as she pulled it open and peeked inside. The scent of damp earth hung in the air from the rain, but the cement floor was bone-dry. A shiver ran down her spine. What if she stumbled into something she shouldn’t? This place did belong to a gang of outlaws…
Adrenaline spiked her pulse as she peered further into the small room. A shaft of light from the open doorway illuminated dusty file boxes, various tools, and supplies scattered across industrial metal shelves. As Adrian said, a small desk was positioned in the center of the room. Nothing too inconspicuous. But she wasn’t about to go snooping around.
The desk looked old but in good condition—the kind with a cubby under the main surface and a wooden chair welded on. Unlike the rest of the miscellaneous junk, the desk was dust-free, and the floor had been cleared and swept. As if Adrian set it up before they even arrived.
The thought made heat rise to her already flushed cheeks. Between her legs, her pussy blushed in awe, wet and hot under her unbuttoned jeans. He’d planned everything out down to the last detail. Usually, she planned for others, the one who made special treats for birthdays and carried extra supplies in case of emergencies. Today wasn’t a holiday, yet Adrian had done so much to let her know she was important.
She traced her fingers over the smooth wood, remembering the first time he bent her over his kitchen counter. The first time he told her to appreciate herself—that he valued not just her but her submission. The first time he brought up punishments and rules. True, she shied away from the thought then, but it hadn’t scared her.
He’d made it clear this was her choice. Her power, and if she offered that to him, he wouldn’t let it go to waste.
Even now, she had the chance to walk back outside. He’d always given her the option to step away, to decide if she really wanted this with him. The answer had already been written in her heart and mind, but this chance to choose him, to choose submission, made it all the more gratifying.
Her heart raced at the opportunity to please him, to bow and relinquish herself to her black knight. To let him hurt her. Punish her. Humiliate her.
He owned her, and in return, she could own him with a single word. Nothing she gave would go unnoticed or unrewarded. He treated her willingness to suffer for his sake as an honor, and he deserved no less.
The front gate squeaked and sliced through her thoughts. She jumped, fumbling to push her jeans and panties down to her thighs. It wouldn’t take him long to walk in, and when he did, she wanted to earn his praise.
She spread her legs as much as her pants would allow, then leaned forward and folded her arms over the desk. From this position, everything would be clear as day when he walked in. The swollen, pink cleft between her legs. The rosebud his finger had breached earlier. The dimples around her ass and the plush of her thighs pushed up from the tightness of her jeans.
Worse, she wouldn’t be able to see the look on his face. She could only wait, mind and body settling into the space he’d carved out just for her.
The seconds ticked by. She exhaled and rested her head across her arms, strands of wet hair tickling her elbows.
His boots crunched against the gravel outside. Hyper-alert, her pussy throbbed, and her eyes darted to the side in search of his shadow.
Crunch. Crunch.
The footsteps stopped as they reached the doorway.
She was already dripping, at war with the unrelenting urge to squirm or cover herself. Her face blazed with embarrassment, and she closed her eyes with a deep breath.
“Very good.”
The dark timbre of his voice soothed over her like an ancient mystical spell. She almost wept with relief.
Adrian stepped into the room and walked behind her, observing quietly until she clenched around nothing but crisp air and heat from his unseen gaze. Then two warm palms smoothed over her ass cheeks, spreading her open until nothing could be hidden. No secret left uncovered.
“What a divine sight,” he whispered, bending over and leaving a tender kiss on one cheek. His lips were warm and soft, nothing short of a precious gift. “You’ve made me an incredibly lucky man, Ivory.”
The leather jacket rustled as he straightened and moved to the front of the desk to face her. His smile dazzled her as she opened her eyes. A bolt of electricity shot straight through her heart. “Undo my belt, sweetheart.”
Wait. Was he really going to use that?
She bit her lip, deciding not to give in so easily. She’d asked him to break her, after all, and she trusted he knew how to put back the pieces.
Rising to her elbows, she concentrated on tugging out the tail end of the belt from the loops. Her fingers lingered over the nick he’d made for her wrists and again on the second for her ankles. The leather didn’t have any other marks or scratches—meaning it’d been forever altered, forever marked as a tool designed for her. Metal clinked as she tugged on the clasp, and his shameless bulge pressed against the zipper like an impatient, ravenous beast.
“Thank you,” he murmured when she was done, and put her hands back on the desk.
His gratitude didn’t do much to ease her flare of disappointment, but she responded as she should. “You’re welcome, sir.”
After slipping the belt out of the rest of the loops, Adrian sat in the chair. The seat looked much too small, but he made it work. Her mind conjured a younger version of him, a boy who sat in the back of the class and, despite keeping to himself, always ended up in detention. The kind who would beat up the bullies and show no remorse. The kind her mom had always warned her about.
He reached down and pulled a pocketknife from his boot, snapping it open and capturing her attention. Curved at the tip and serrated at the base, the blade was black as night with gold embellishments on the handle. The sharp edge shone silver in the light.
“Move back a bit so I won’t slip and cut you,” he said, placing the belt flat on the desk.
She shimmied away, now propped up on the edge of the desk and forced to hold her own weight. Her feet shuffled, body yearning for more attention while her mind honed in on his movements. Carefully, Adrian started to carve little holes where the nicks had been.
“Sir?”
He glanced up, eyes leveled with hers as he paused his task.
“Have you always carried that?”
“Yes.” After ensuring her face held no trace of concern, went back to work, then set the knife down and picked out pieces of cut-off leather.
She chewed her lip. “And at the Halloween party? When Jace’s friends pulled the knife on us?”
“Mhm.”
Then, none of Jace’s threats had meant anything because Adrian had been as prepared as the frat boys were. He probably hadn’t pulled out the knife when Jace was beating him up, either.
“Have you ever used it?” she asked.
“Once. I was walking alone late at night, and someone had been following me for a few blocks, so I took it out and started playing around. They turned back.” He set the knife down and held the belt up to the light coming in from the doorway. “But I will use it if I have to.”
Curious, she picked up the handle and tested its weight in her hand. The metal felt cold and solid but not heavy. Her fingertip brushed over the flat of the blade, and she imagined what it would feel like pressed to her skin. What it would be like held against her throat as Adrian fucked her from behind—
She gasped as her clit pulsed, and the point of the knife sliced into her flesh.