Chapter 8. Florian
I woke to the sunlight against my eyelids.
For a moment, I drifted in that space between dreams and reality, my body heavy with sleep, my mind still fogged.
Then I tried to stretch, and the soft resistance around my wrists yanked me fully awake.
My eyes snapped open as memories crystallized: the cuffs, Knox's voice in the darkness, the word "Daddy" on my lips as I'd surrendered to exhaustion.
The mattress beneath me felt like a cloud. I had never slept so deeply.
I tested the restraints gently. The cuffs were butter-soft against my skin, lined with what felt like wool.
There was enough give that I'd been able to shift in my sleep without pain, but not enough to free myself.
My arms were slightly numb from being held above my head all night, tingling with the first prickles of returning circulation.
Sunlight filtered through a gap in the heavy curtains.
The light caught on the fancy furniture of the room.
I closed my eyes again, shame flooding through me as memories of the previous night replayed in vivid detail.
I had fallen apart. I had cried. I had panicked when he'd told me what he wanted to do to me.
I had covered everything in snot. And rather than kicking me out or demanding his money back, Knox had...
taken care of me. Fed me. Held me. Put me to sleep in his own bed like a child who'd had a nightmare.
For a second, I panicked, but then I remembered I had texted Luna before midnight as promised, while I showered.
God, I was pathetic.
I'd come here to be a professional, to earn the money he was paying me by being whatever he needed.
Instead, I'd been a mess, an emotional wreckage.
He'd given me the envelope anyway. The thought of it made my stomach twist. Not with disgust, though, but with a strange warmth.
He had seen me at my absolute worst and still thought I deserved payment. Still thought I was worth caring for.
Movement caught my eye. Knox stood at the far end of the room, his back to me as he pulled something from a drawer.
He was already dressed for the day in tailored slate-gray slacks and a crisp white button-down, the sleeves rolled to his elbows again, exposing those forearms that had made me almost drool yesterday.
His hair was damp at the edges, suggesting a recent shower.
How long had he been up? How long had he left me sleeping in his bed?
I watched him, mesmerized by his movements, and felt something unfamiliar bloom in my chest.
Security.
The realization was insane. I was literally tied to a stranger's bed. I should be terrified. I should be figuring out how to escape. I felt... safe. Protected. All along. My wrists were bound, and yet I felt freer than I had in years. So ridiculously cliché. I was such a bottom.
"You're awake," Knox said.
Heat rushed to my face. I was suddenly, acutely aware of how I must look.
Disheveled, restrained, wearing silk pajamas that cost more than my rent, in a bed that didn't belong to me, and really needing to go pee.
The silk had twisted around my torso during the night, exposing a strip of skin above the waistband.
I wanted to tug it down, but my bound hands made that impossible.
"I..." My voice came out as a croak. I cleared my throat and tried again. "Yes. I'm awake."
Knox had an expression that was unreadable, but I could have sworn the corner of his mouth twitched upward for a fraction of a second. He crossed the room. I should have felt vulnerable. Instead, a strange anticipation coiled low in my stomach.
Knox stood at the edge of the bed now, looking down at me. I couldn't read his thoughts. Did he regret bringing me here? Did he think I was weak? Pathetic? Was he disappointed? Why was I getting hard just looking at him there?
"I'm sorry about last night," I blurted out. "I'm not usually... I don't normally..." I trailed off, unsure how to finish. I don't normally what? Fall apart? Cry on strangers? Accept kindness without trying to pay for it with my body?
"Don't apologize. I told you I prefer the truth," Knox said. His voice was calm, gentle, but with that firmness that sent shivers down my spine.
I swallowed hard. Truth. What was the truth?
That I was broke, desperate, and had walked into his house thinking I could trade my body for cash without consequences?
That the moment he'd spoken to me with real kindness, I'd crumbled like a sandcastle at high tide?
That despite everything, despite the cuffs and the power imbalance and the money, I felt safer here than I had in years?
"I didn't give you what you wanted," I whispered, the words scratching my throat on their way out. "What you paid for."
Knox's expression shifted, getting harder, more dangerous. "What I want," he said, each word heavy, "is authenticity. True surrender and trust. Those can't be purchased, Florian. They can only be earned. And you gave me that. Now, I don’t want to hear another word about that. That’s an order."
I stayed quiet, processing the words.
"I'll remove the cuffs now," Knox said, moving closer to the headboard. "Your arms must be uncomfortable after a full night."
Part of me wanted to protest. I, weirdly, wanted to stay bound a little longer, to remain in this strange, suspended state where I didn't have to make decisions or pretend to be stronger than I was. But I just nodded, watching as his large hands reached for the buckles.
I looked at the silver at his temples, the fine lines around his eyes, the strong, straight bridge of his nose.
I wondered if he had Italian blood. He was intimidatingly handsome, not in the soft, pretty-boy way of the guys I usually went for, but in a carved-from-granite way that made my heart race.
This close, I could smell his cologne, something expensive and subtle, cedar.
When he touched me, as he worked the first buckle free, I felt goosebumps. It wasn't supposed to be like this. This was business. A transaction. I wasn't supposed to feel this dizzy rush just from him.
But as the first cuff loosened and blood rushed back into my hand in a painful tingle, I knew I was in trouble.
Because in the clear light of morning, with my mind no longer clouded by panic or exhaustion, I had to admit an uncomfortable truth: I wanted him.
Not for the money, not for the security, but for himself. I was crazy about him.
And that realization terrified me more than any restraint ever could.
The second cuff fell away, and Knox gently lowered my arms, his large hands supporting my elbows as the blood rushed back.
The pins-and-needles sensation made me wince, but his touch distracted me from the discomfort.
His fingers were warm, careful, as they brushed over the slight red marks left by the leather.
I was suddenly aware of our proximity, his broad shoulders blocking the sunlight, his cologne enveloping me.
Oh, I was down bad.
I couldn't look away from his hands on mine. They were so different from mine. His fingers were long and strong, nails perfectly manicured, a dusting of dark hair on his knuckles. Mine looked almost childish in comparison, pale and slender with bitten nails and a small paint stain.
"How did you sleep, mmm?" Knox asked.
I tested the soreness in my shoulders, slowly lowering my arms.
"I slept very well... the best sleep I've had in ages…" I paused, my heart hammering against my ribs, then whispered. "Thank you for asking, Daddy."
The word hung in the air between us. I watched his face, terrified I'd mis-stepped.
Knox went perfectly still. The change was subtle but total, like watching a predator shift from rest to alertness.
His pupils dilated, black swallowing brown.
His grip on my wrists tightened fractionally, not enough to hurt, just enough to remind me of his strength.
The corner of his mouth curved upward, not quite a smile, but something more primal, more possessive.
"Did you now? Good," he said, his voice dropping an octave, resonating in his chest.
I didn't think. I just moved, turning my wrist in his grasp to catch his hand with mine, not learning my lesson, obviously. His skin was warm. My fingers closed around his. I didn’t know how I got the courage to be so bold.
"Please," I whispered, my voice cracking with a need that surprised even me. This wasn't calculated. This wasn't me trying to earn my keep or fulfill a contract. This was raw want flooding through my veins. "Let me please you today. After everything you did for me..."
Knox looked down at our joined hands, his expression unreadable. Then his eyes lifted to mine, searching, assessing. What did he see there? The hungry desperation? The genuine gratitude? The strange, unnamed emotion that had been building since he'd first approached my table in that coffee shop?
"You think you've earned that privilege?" he asked, his voice soft but edged with steel. I knew it was all banter, but it made my heart speed up in a way I thought I’d die.
"I haven't earned anything,” I admitted, embarrassed. “But I want to. I want... I want to be good for you. Please, Daddy, please."
The words hung between us. I hadn't planned to say them.
Knox's expression shifted, something dark and possessive flickering behind his eyes. The businessman in the impeccable shirt receded, making way for something wilder. His professional demeanor cracked. The Dominant appeared.
"You'll have to beg much more convincingly than that if you want the privilege of touching me," Knox said, his voice a low growl that sent heat pooling in my belly. He pulled his hand from mine and stood, creating distance between us.
The loss of his touch hit me hard, a cold emptiness where his warmth had been. I pushed myself up to sitting, the silk pajamas sliding against the expensive sheets, my body trembling with a need I couldn't fully comprehend.
Knox sat on the edge of the bed, careful to maintain the space between us. His posture was controlled, his back straight, his hands resting on his thighs. The sunlight caught on his silver-streaked hair.
"Color?" he asked, the single word bridging worlds.
It took me a moment to understand, even though I had checked with him before touching him last night.
Color. He was checking in, making sure I was truly consenting to this shift.
The care was incredible. Even now, with desire clear in his eyes, he was making sure I was safe, that I was truly willing.
No one had ever been so careful with me before.
"Very, very green," I breathed, the words tumbling out in a rush. "The greenest green. Forest green. Emerald green. Fucking neon green."
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, genuine amusement softening him. "Eloquent," he murmured.
"I mean it," I said, the words spilling out faster now, unfiltered. "Last night, when I freaked out, I was scared. Now I still am. But not of you. Of... how much I want this. How much I want you. I don't know how to handle it."
Knox's eyebrow arched. I looked down at my hands, unable to meet his gaze as I confessed the rest. "When you put these cuffs on me, when you told me I didn't have to do anything but sleep...
I've never felt so safe." I swallowed hard, my throat tight.
"I can't stop thinking about your hands and your voice and the way you look at me like you can see right through all my bullshit.
It would really be a privilege to be used by you.
My privilege." I forced myself to look up then, to meet his dark gaze directly.
"I want to be good for you," I whispered.
"I want to please you. I want you to... to be proud of me. "
The last admission was the hardest.
Knox was utterly still, his eyes never leaving my face. He was studying me. I could almost see him processing my words, weighing them against my body language, my tone, the flush on my cheeks. He was looking for lies, for manipulation.
He wouldn't find them. I was being completely, brutally honest. Those words were my heart and soul.
After what felt like an eternity, Knox shifted his weight slightly. "Come here," he said, his voice low. Commanding.
I moved without hesitation, crawling across the bed until I knelt before him. My heart hammered in my chest with anticipation and nerves.
"If you want to please me," Knox said, "you'll need to prove yourself worthy first."
"I'll do anything," I said, meaning it more completely than I'd ever meant anything before.
Knox smiled then, a slow, predatory curve of his lips that made my stomach drop.
"I know you will," he said. His hand came up, fingers trailing along my jawline, tilting my face up to meet his gaze.
His thumb brushed over my lower lip, the touch feather-light.
"That's why I knew from the first time I laid eyes on you that you were perfect for me. "
The praise sent a wave of heat through my body, a flush that started in my cheeks and raced downward. I leaned into his touch, hungry for more, for anything he would give me.
"Please," I whispered against his thumb. "Tell me what to do. Tell me how to be good for you."
Knox's eyes darkened further. "So eager," he murmured. "So desperate to please." His thumb pressed harder against my lip, not quite breaching my mouth but suggesting the possibility. "I like that. I like you like this, honest and needy and willing."
He withdrew his hand, and I had to stop myself from chasing the contact. The loss of his touch was so sad, but the promise in his eyes kept me still, waiting.
"First rule," Knox said. "I don’t want to hear more apologies or anything similar. You answer questions honestly and completely. You do not hide or deflect or use that sharp little tongue to distract me. Understood?"
"Yes," I breathed. Then, testing the waters: "Yes, Daddy."
"Good boy," he said, and those two simple words sent a jolt of pleasure through me so intense I had to bite my lip to stifle a moan.
"Second rule," he continued, reaching out to trace the collar of the silk pajamas, his fingers running along the edge.
"My house, my rules. That means when I tell you to do something, you do it immediately and without question.
If you have concerns, you use your colors.
Red to stop, yellow to slow down or check in, green to continue. Is that clear?"
"Yes, Daddy," I said, the words coming easier now, feeling right on my tongue.
"Good." Knox stood then, towering over me. “Third and last rule: you won’t cum without permission. While you’re here, your pleasure is mine, your orgasms are mine. Do you understand?”
“Y-yes, Daddy,” I said, already shaking with desire.
"Now, let's see if you can follow those rules, shall we?"