Chapter 19
Bastien Montclaire
Patience is a dangerous kind of foreplay.
Laurette spent the afternoon on her couch with case files balanced on her knees, glasses sliding down her nose. Her laptop glowed against the dimming light. She never looked up. Never glanced at the camera. Never sensed my eyes tracking her every move.
The light fades by degrees, the sky blushing, then bruising, then vanishing into shadow.
I go through the motions of bedtime—lights off, teeth brushed, shirt discarded. But my pulse remains steady with desire. I stretch across the bed, one arm dropped over the space where she’ll be soon.
I imagine her here in my bed, the shape of her, and how she’ll come apart.
My burner phone buzzes.
I’m thinking about you.
Her text is more than a message. It’s a match struck in a gasoline-soaked room. A flame in the dark—immediate and consuming.
And I don’t hesitate. My fingers move before thought can catch up.
I’m ALWAYS thinking about you.
It’s a confession, simple and raw. No shadows to hide behind.
I’ve given her time—more than I probably should have. Time to turn away, rethink, close that door and pretend none of this ever reached her. But she’s still here. Still reaching. Still sending messages that spark with intent, impossible to ignore.
And I’m done pretending I’ve got the patience to play it slow.
I’m done circling.
I want you.
Fuck.
You have my attention.
Her message hits like a live wire, short-circuiting my thoughts, my breath, and the last of my restraint.
I sit up, the force of her words slamming through me. Heart pounding. Cock hardening.
No fantasy has ever burned this way.
I want you.
Three words, and she lays herself bare. She opens the door wider and invites me in.
But it’s more than words. It’s permission… and surrender.
And fuck me, I’ve never wanted anything more.
Call me if you mean that.
Her name lights up on my burner—Babygirl—and everything inside me stills.
Not calm. Coiled.
My pulse surges as I hit Accept, jaw locked with every filthy thing I want to do to her.
I bring the phone to my ear. My voice comes out rough, weighted with need I’m no longer bothering to hide. “Do you mean that?”
There’s a pause, heavy and charged, then her voice slides through the line, wrecking me with its honesty.
“My head’s still asking questions, but my body has already decided. I want you.”
The leash I’ve been holding snaps. Dark hunger, wild and unrestricted, floods in.
It’s the green light I’ve craved.
“I need you to be certain.” My voice is edged with my final shred of self-control.
Her breath hitches. “I want you, My Wolf. Tonight. Now.”
Fucking confirmation.
Almost.
“You know the words I need to hear from you, Babygirl.”
I won’t come to you without hearing them.
She hesitates, and I can hear her breath catch.
“Do you remember the words?”
A beat of silence. Then—
“Fuck me,” she whispers. “I want your cock inside me. I need your cock inside me.”
The line goes quiet, but her words don’t. They sear, echo, and brand. They strip me down to my most primal instinct.
My voice drops, steady and sure. “Leave your front door unlocked. Turn off every light in the house. Burn one candle in the bedroom, enough for me to see you. Put the blindfold on again. Wear only the necklace.”
“And?” Her voice is soft but certain.
That single word hits, a fuse burning at both ends.
“Wait for me on the bed. Face down. Ass up.”
She doesn’t answer.
“You still won’t see me, Laurette. Not until I decide it’s time. Do you understand what you’re saying yes to?”
A pause.
“I do.”
“All right then. I’m coming for you, Babygirl. Be ready.”
The house is still when I slip in. I close the front door softly and melt into the dark. I move like a ghost. My shoes don’t even whisper against the hardwood.
The hallway is pitch black, but I don’t need light to find her. My fingertips brush the wall as I move, counting the doorways. When I reach her bedroom, I pause.
The door is cracked. Inside, a single candle burns low, painting her in soft gold and shadow.
She’s there, blindfolded and waiting.
“Perfection,” I say, more to myself than her.
I push the door open without a sound. There she is—facedown and ass high—naked except for the necklace I put on her.
My eyes adjust to the candlelight, and she doesn’t move. The flame paints slow-moving shadows across her skin.
A low growl curls up my throat, wordless and feral.
This is it.
The beginning.
I step into the room and shut the door with a click. She doesn’t speak or move.
My cock throbs at the sight of her, laid out for me in silence, offering herself without hesitation or question. Every line of her body screams trust and need.
I cross the room in a few slow strides. She startles the moment my finger touches her spine, and a sharp inhale reaches my ear. A shiver ripples through her—nerves or anticipation. Maybe both.
I drag my touch down the ridge of her back, savoring every inch.
“Such a good girl,” I tell her, my voice edged with praise.
She gasps, a sound caught somewhere between surprise and surrender.
“You listened and obeyed so well.” My hand flattens across her lower back, firm and possessive. “You look exquisite this way.”
A soft tremor travels through her body. I let my fingers trace the swell of her hips and the curve of her ass, delighting in every twitch of muscle.
My fingers move higher to the base of her neck, grazing the skin beside the necklace. She exhales, as if she’s been holding her breath for me.
I lean in closer. “You want this, don’t you? You want me to take you?”
Her body answers before her voice does with a trembling that isn’t fear. Not quite. It’s something sharper, something aching.
“Yes, I want you.”
I grip her hips, guiding her just a fraction, letting her feel the strength in my hands and certainty in my touch. “Good. Because I didn’t come here to admire how pretty you are. I came to fuck.”
My mouth closes over her neck, tongue and teeth working in tandem. She arches with a soundless gasp, letting me know what she wants without saying a thing.
“I own this moment,” I breathe against her skin. “The way your spine bows under my touch. The hush that settles in your lungs when you’re waiting for what comes next. That’s mine too.”
She doesn’t speak, and she doesn’t need to. Her body answers me in ways that make the heat under my skin flare, driving me forward. I want to pull her as close as I can get without taking her apart.
And in that moment, quiet and burning, she waits. Exactly where I told her to be. Perfect and ready.
I stalk around the bed and drop to my knees, face-to-cunt—raw, swollen, leaking. She’s soaked. Fucking dripping. Her thighs twitch, seconds from snapping, that tight little pussy gleaming in the candlelight, begging to be ruined.
“Look at you,” I whisper. “Pink and slick and desperate for me. Begging to be touched.”
She shifts, subtle and desperate. A tiny grind, her cunt crawling toward my mouth. She can’t even help it. A sound escapes her—half whimper, half broken sob.
“Arch your back. Show me more of that ass. Let me see that pretty little hole.”
She obeys instantly, spine curving. Her ass tilts up, slick cunt on display. Fuck, she’s glorious this way—trembling and needy.
The blindfold strips away inhibition, leaving only instinct. No thoughts, no defenses. Just raw, primal need. Her body responds without hesitation.
“Fuck… you don’t know how pretty you are like this.”
I dip my thumb into my mouth, wet it, then drag it over her puckered hole, tracing slow, feather-light circles around the tight ring. She jerks, a moan snagging in her throat, broken and helpless.
“This is beautiful.” I press in, just the tip of my finger. “So tight.”
The muscle clenches instantly.
“Has anyone ever fucked your ass?”
“No.”
Untouched, as I had hoped. Perfect and pristine, a secret the world hasn’t gotten its hands on yet.
Mine to discover.
Mine to open.
Mine to change forever.
“One day, Babygirl, I’m going to stretch this with my cock. I’m going to make you cry and come at the same time.” I pause, finger still, letting the promise sink deep. “But not tonight.”
A whimper escapes her, hips twitching, as she chases something just out of reach.
She can’t see me watching her and doesn’t sense the lack of patience inside me.
“You belong to me.”
I allow the words to sink in, settle into her blood, and brand themselves somewhere permanently.
“No one else touches you. No one else hears the sounds you make when you fall apart. Every moan, every broken little noise belongs to me. Do you understand?”
Her body shudders, wound tightly.
“Yes.” Her voice is muffled by her face pressing against the sheets. “I belong to you.”
She can’t see me reach into my pocket and pull out the strip of black silk I brought for this moment.
I move over her, straddling her body, chest brushing against the curve of her spine as I gather her wrists in one hand.
“Again.” My voice is darker now, soaked in command. “Say it like you understand what it means.”
“I belong to you, My Wolf,” she whispers, shattering into something precious.
She doesn’t understand what she’s promised.
I press my mouth to her ear. “That’s my good girl.”
I kiss each wrist before binding them. Her arms stretch forward, her body bowed beneath me—offered and open. My fingers glide down the curve of her hips, lower, teasing the slick heat between her thighs without touching. She squirms, her body reacting.
“You’re everything I want. You don’t even know how fucking good you are for me, Babygirl.”
A low moan slips from her, soft and wrecked. Her back arches deeper, a silent offering. She trembles with her arms bound and eyes covered.
She looks like devotion incarnate.
But tonight, she’s the one being worshipped.