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Smirking, I push open the door to reveal my bedroom. She steps inside, her eyes roaming the shadows and contours, the bed that soon will bear witness to our unraveling. My heart thunders in my chest, a rhythm that syncs with the sway of her hips as she approaches the edge of the mattress, reaching for the lamp on the bedside table. Switching it on, the room becomes bathed in light.
I love that she’s a light-on kinda woman.
“Turn around,” I command softly, my voice laced with the promise of all the things I intend to show her tonight.
She complies, and I strip away my clothes without ceremony—each piece hitting the floor with a whisper of fabric against fabric, a sound drowned out by the increasing cadence of our breathing.
Naked, I stand before her, exposed and raw. Her gaze sweeps over me, hesitant at first, then she really takes her time, studying my tattoos.
“Jesus, Soren.” The words escape her in a hushed reverence, her lips parting as she takes in the breadth of my shoulders, the ink that crawls up my neck like dark ivy.
She reaches out a tentative hand, tracing the spider web at my throat, tracing lower across the expanse of my chest, lower and lower she goes, until her fingertips skim the edges of the tattoo that boldly reads “Have Fun”.
“So itisreal,” she laughs incredulously, tracing the letters at the base of my already hard dick. “I almost convinced myself that I made it up.” I know this isn’t the first time she’s seen this tattoo, but it’s the first time she’s commenting on it.
Her touch is electric, sparking a wildfire through my veins, igniting a primal need to claim her. To show her the beast she’s unleashed with her soft caresses and bold gazes.
Smirking, I say, “It would be a travesty if you didn’t have fun.”
Her response is a gasp, a flicker of excitement in her eyes that tells me she’s ready to dive into this abyss with me. “Show me,” she urges, her voice a seductive melody that plays right into my darkest symphony.
“Patience, Gail,” I murmur against her ear as I guide her backwards toward the bed. “I plan to savor every second of your unraveling.”
“Unravel me then,” she challenges, and I can’t help but smile at her courage, her willingness to meet my darkness head-on.
“Believe me, I will,” I promise as we reach the bed, the last barrier to the night’s transgressions. Tonight, there will be pain mixed with pleasure, dominance entwined with surrender, and by dawn, we’ll both be completely satisfied.
“Are you ready?” I ask, watching her intently for any sign of hesitation.
“More than you know,” she answers with a confidence that fuels my own.
“Good,” I say, my hands finding her waist. “Because I’m going to worship every inch of you, Gail. There’s no turning back now.”
I guide Gail’s trembling form to the edge of the bed, my fingers grazing her skin with the promise of what’s to come. “Are you sure?” I ask, even though every cell in my body screams for her. I need verbal confirmation—one word from her lips to set this into motion.
“Yes,” she breathes out, her voice laced with desire and determination. “Undress me, Soren. I want you to use me tonight.”
“Fuck!” I growl. Bending down, I capture her lips with mine. While our tongues tangle, I push her PJ shorts and… ending the kiss, I pull back, resting my forehead against hers. “Seems you forgot to put underwear on.”
She moans as I skim her heated cunt, unable to help myself. I graze the folds and accidentally-on-purpose push against her clit. “Soren!”
Chuckling, I quickly strip away the rest of her clothes, each piece discarded feels like peeling back layers of her soul, revealing the raw passion underneath. When she finally stands bare before me, I take a moment to drink her in—the curve of her hips, the rise of her breasts, the vulnerability etched in her expression.
This isn’t the first time I’ve seen her naked, far from it. So why does it feel like it? Why does it feel like I’m seeing her in a different light? Maybe it’s because she’s not wearing the mask she always wore at Cupid’s Court, so she’s watching me watch her.
“Are you ready to play?” My tone is husky with need.
“Yes.”
I reach for a length of silk rope from the drawer—soft yet unyielding, much like my intentions tonight. “Lift your arms, whore,” I command softly, and she extends her arms above her head. I wind the fabric between her wrists, tying them together. It’s more than restraint—it’s a symbol of trust, which is why I can’t resist using it tonight after she said she doesn’t trust us. “Beautiful,” I murmur as I make sure both wrists are secure. Her pulse flutters beneath my fingertips, a delicate thrumming that syncs with my own heartbeat.
“Please, Soren…” Gail’s plea slices through me, igniting a primal urge I’ve kept at bay. But no longer.
“Patience,” I tease, but my voice is strained, thick with need. I reach for her chin, tilting her head up to meet my gaze. “Look at me, Gail. I want you to see who’s in control.”
But it’s not just about control; it’s about connection—the way her blue eyes darken with arousal, how she responds to my slightest touch. It’s power and surrender, woven intricately together.
Taking a step back, I admire her as she stands there, completely naked, with her arms hoisted above her head. Despite the precarious position she’s in, she looks regal as ever. I wonder if she understands who really has the control here, because it’s sure as fuck not me.
