42. Chapter 42
Chapter forty-two
I’d put a ring on her finger, and she’d set me on fire.
Isabella stiffened against me at the mention of the pictures, but I kept my arm firm around her waist. She’d spent hours testing my control with those damn things. I wasn’t letting her slip away now—not until she understood exactly what she’d done to me.
The amount of restraint I’d shown since that first fucking picture landed on my phone at Xyst should’ve won me an award.
Judging by the looks on Nik’s and Lucian’s faces when their phones went off at the same time, the whole thing had been cooked up during the girls’ spa day.
We’d arranged it because we wanted to spoil our women, and somewhere between the massages and champagne, the spoiled brats had decided to turn the favor around on us.
Isabella had known exactly what she was doing.
She’d sent those pictures while I was trapped in public, first at Xyst and then in the SUV with two of my security men sitting up front.
She knew I wasn’t going to throw her over my shoulder in the middle of the club or start anything in the back seat with a security detail listening three feet away.
Under any other circumstances, that kind of provocation deserved an immediate response.
But I’d planned this night long before Mouse decided to make a sport of tormenting me.
The flowers, the candles, the ring—I’d wanted her first real Valentine’s Day to be something she’d never forget.
More than that, I’d wanted to ask her to marry me without my cock or my temper hijacking the moment.
Making her happy had mattered more than my protective fury, my raging hard-on, or the very real urge I’d had to drag her into the office at Xyst and fuck her against the one-way glass.
Now the ring was on her finger, and I had no reason left to behave.
She was still wearing the dress she’d bought with my card, her cheeks flushed from the proposal and a satisfied little smile playing around her mouth as she watched me in the reflection. She looked entirely too pleased with herself.
I opened the first photograph and brought the phone around in front of her so we could both see it.
Goddamn.
The deep red velvet chaise only made the image more obscene.
Isabella lay sprawled across it in black lace, one cup of her bra pulled low enough to bare a breast while her legs were spread wide with nothing covering her pussy.
One hand cupped her breast. The other rested between her thighs, one finger pressed directly to her clit.
I’d already seen the image more times than I cared to admit, and it still hit me like a fist to the chest.
“God, look at that pretty pussy,” I said, roughly.
The confidence in her expression faltered.
Not shame. Isabella had nothing to be ashamed of, and she knew it. But hearing me say it while I held the photograph inches in front of her was different from pressing send and watching me open it at Xyst as if she hadn’t a clue in the world what she’d done.
A flush climbed from the neckline of her dress to her cheeks.
I leaned closer to her ear. “Did you like being on display like that?”
Her eyes found mine in the window.
“Having another woman focused on your cunt while you lay there spread open for her camera?” I lowered my voice. “Did you show her how you like to touch yourself?”
Her face went scarlet.
“No. It wasn’t like that.”
“No?”
“The only thing I was thinking about was surprising you.” She looked back at the picture, her voice dropping a little. “I kept wondering what it would do to you when you opened it.”
A low laugh escaped me.
“Oh, you got my attention, all right.”
That might have been the understatement of my life.
If Aria hadn’t arranged the photographer herself and had her vetted through DarkMatter, there was a fair chance someone would’ve been digging a grave by now.
Isabella had already tried to reassure me in the SUV that the woman was completely professional, did this all the time, and photographed famous clients who expected discretion.
None of that changed the basic problem.
Somebody else had seen my girl like this.
Knowing Nik, every copy outside of our phones had probably already disappeared into the digital abyss.
I still didn’t like another pair of eyes on her pussy.
That privilege belonged to me.
I released her waist and stepped away long enough to lock the phone and set it on the nightstand, then loosened my tie.
Isabella turned slightly from the window to watch my hands.
I pulled the tie free from my collar and tossed it onto the bed before starting on the buttons of my shirt.
“You’ve been a naughty girl, haven’t you, Mouse?”
Her mouth curved into that quiet, wicked smile I was learning could get a man into all kinds of trouble.
“Naughty?” She tipped her head. “Playful? You tell me.”
“Definitely naughty.”
I untucked my shirt and shrugged it off as I walked back toward her.
For all my irritation over the photographer, I couldn’t pretend the pictures weren’t hot as fuck. They were. I intended to keep every one of them.
Next time, though, I’d be the man behind the camera.
I could already see a new hobby in my future.
“So you’re saying you didn’t like them?” Her lower lip pushed out in an exaggerated pout. “That’s unfortunate. I suppose I’ll never send you pictures of myself again.”
I stopped in front of her.
She continued, far too innocently, “And sexting should probably be ruled out too. I wouldn’t want to get you flustered while you’re working.”
I stared at her.
So my girl had attitude tonight.
She wanted to poke the bear.
Fine.
I could give her that.
My original plan after the proposal had been considerably sweeter. I’d intended to take my time with her, make love to her slowly, and worship every inch of the woman who had agreed to become my wife.
That plan had changed.
Isabella needed a small lesson in prudence and a little sweet punishment, enough to teach her that being spoiled and behaving like a spoiled brat were two very different things.
And judging by the spark in her eyes, she was going to enjoy finding out exactly what the difference was.
Mouse had surprised me from the first moment she slipped into that dungeon. I suspected she would keep surprising me for the rest of my life, and now I had all the time in the world to learn just how far she wanted me to take her.
I smiled and tipped my chin toward the glass behind her.
“Hands on the window, Mouse.”
Her eyes widened, but she didn’t hesitate. She turned back toward the glass and spread both palms against it, the city glittering beyond her reflection.
I moved in behind her and gathered the skirt of her dress slowly, lifting the fabric until her legs were bare and the hem rested high over her hips.
She watched me in the darkened window, her breathing changing when I pushed the skirt over her hips and exposed the narrow scrap of lace between her cheeks.
My fingers followed the curve of her ass, tracing the same skin I’d been dying to get my hands on since that last photo hit my phone.
“What do you think happens to a naughty girl who spends Valentine’s Day teasing the fuck out of the man who only wanted to spoil her rotten?”
Her gaze stayed on mine in the reflection.
“You did say you wanted rotten.”
Then she had the audacity to wiggle her ass.
The little menace.
“Oh, you’re definitely testing me.”
Her mouth curved. “Maybe.”
I reached for my belt.
The buckle opened with a metallic click that wiped some of the mischief from her expression. I drew the leather through the loops in one quick pull and folded it in half, never taking my eyes from hers in the glass.
She started to turn.
“You wouldn’t.”
“I said hands on the window, Mouse.”
She slapped her palms back against the glass and lifted her chin, but the challenge had already returned to her eyes.
“I know you won’t hurt me. You love me too much.”
“Aye. I do.”
I stepped close behind her until my bare chest nearly touched her back.
“And I’ll never give you pain you don’t want.” I bent to her ear. “But don’t mistake that for a promise that I won’t make you hurt in ways you enjoy.”
Her breath caught.
“I think you may find there are a few kinds of pain you like very much.”
I stepped back just far enough to give myself room, drew the belt back, and brought it down across one cheek.
The crack cut through the bedroom.
Isabella jolted against the window with a sharp gasp. A red line rose almost immediately across her skin.
For several seconds, neither of us moved.
Then her thighs drew closer together, and her hips tipped back the smallest amount.
Well, fuck me.
Her hand left the glass, reaching instinctively toward the burning mark.
I caught her wrist before she touched it.
“I said hands on the glass.”
I brought her arm back up and pinned both wrists against the window with one hand, caging her between my body and the glass. The folded belt remained in my other hand.
Her breathing had quickened, but she wasn’t trying to get free. If anything, the subtle press of her ass against me said the opposite.
I put my mouth beside her ear.
“If you want to play naughty games with me and pout when I don’t give you what you want, you need to understand the rules before I give you any more consequences.”
She turned her face slightly toward mine.
“Do you know what safe words are?”
Her brows drew together. “No?”
There was no fear in the answer. Only curiosity.
“Then listen carefully. Green means keep going. Yellow means I ease up or change what I’m doing. Red means I stop. Immediately. No arguments.”
Her eyes stayed on mine in the reflection.
“And you pick another word that belongs only to you. Something you’re never going to say by accident. If I hear that word, everything stops.”
She nodded once.
“I’ll push you, Mouse. I’ll find your limits. But I won’t cross them. There’s a difference.”