Page 51 of Compulsion

My fingers shake when I pick up the pen, and I can’t bring myself to look directly at him as I sign myself over to him.

In this moment, I’m choosing to trust that he means it when he says he’ll take care of me. I’m surrendering to the darkest, weakest parts of me that want to be both hurt and cared for. I never dared to dream that I could be with someone who understands my needs but also values my consent.

He plucks the pen from my trembling fingers and places the signed contract on the table. I stare at his slanted handwriting as he adds a final line:

With my signature, I vow to cherish my sweet pet.

The pen indents the paper with the force of his signature.

I take a moment to imprint the scene in my memory. Later, I’ll paint his dexterous hand firmly holding the pen, and I’ll strive to capture the confident strokes as he boldly lays claim to everything that I am.

He turns to me, and his triumphant grin is wickedly sharp, keen enough to cut straight into my chest and reveal my soul.

“You lied to me when you faked your orgasm,” he says, his tone heavy with condemnation even as his eyes glitter with carnal anticipation. “What does our contract say about dishonesty?”

I swallow hard, and warning snakes down my spine. “I’m sorry. I only faked it because I wanted to please you. I wanted you to feel good about our connection.”

He trails his fingers through my hair, the tender stroke belying the dangerous, hungry tension around his lush mouth.

“I know, but your apology won’t spare you. You’re going to suffer for me, and then you’re going to come for me. We won’t stop until you lose count of your orgasms. You will learn that there is exquisite pain in pleasure, and you will beg for mercy before I’m finished with you.”

He stands, looming over me like my own personal dark god. My lips part for an enraptured moment, and I stare up at his masculine perfection with open awe.

“It’s time for your punishment, Abigail.”

21

ABIGAIL

Iplace my hand in Dane’s outstretched palm, and his fingers close around mine in a firm cage. Apprehension flutters in my belly like the frantic beats of a trapped butterfly’s wings. The disconcerting sensation sets my senses on high alert, and my entire focus centers on him.

His handsome face is etched with hungry lines, as though someone has enhanced the sharpness on the world. His eyes blaze with emerald flames, burning with dark fire that entrances me. Our connection is hypnotic, and I rise to my feet as though he’s lifted my limbs on a puppet’s strings.

With no more than a gentle tug at my hand, he pulls me in his wake. I float alongside him, my breaths coming faster as though I’m jogging in the summer heat rather than strolling through his house. He leads me up the stairs, and we enter his bedroom.

The color scheme is vastly different from the sterile, pale tones in the rest of the house. The walls are painted a deep green that’s so dark it’s almost velvety, and the furniture is built in sturdy mahogany. A massive four-poster bed with a black-draped canopy dominates one wall.

My steps falter as my anxiety rises, eating away at my lust.

What if my body won’t relax to accommodate him? What if my inner muscles close so tightly that he can’t penetrate me?

Now that I’m in his private sanctuary, only mere feet away from his bed, my insecurities nip at me with sharp teeth.

As always, he’s keenly attuned to my moods. He pauses and turns to me. Both hands settle on my waist, holding me so close that our bodies are almost touching.

“Tell me what you’re worried about.”

“It’s nothing.” I placate him automatically. I don’t want to ruin this moment with my damage.

I straighten my shoulders, determined to master my own body so that I can be with Dane in every way.

His lips firm to a warning slash that makes my stomach dip like I’m on a rollercoaster. A familiar, giddy thrill fizzes through me. I’m riding the edge of danger, and yet, I’m completely safe with Dane.

I marvel at the dichotomy, the fact that I’m able to indulge in this space where I’m both threatened and protected.

“Have you forgotten our contract already?” he challenges. “Complete honesty, Abigail. I want all of you. That means you will tell me all of your thoughts and feelings. You’re worried about something. Explain.”

“Sometimes, my body gets so tight that I can’t accept penetration,” I admit. “I’m scared that will happen again.”

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