I smile, slow and sweet. “I’ve always been a good girl.”
I lift my other wrist.
And wait.
He takes my offered wrist, fingers firm, assured, claiming.
Oh. Oh, I like that.
The restraint glides over my skin, soft but unyielding, and I shiver. Perfect. He knows what he’s doing. No fumbling. No hesitation.
He fastens it, then tests it with a slow, deliberate tug.
I exhale hard. Fuck.
He watches my face as he reaches for my other wrist, like he’s expecting resistance. Like he thinks I might test him, might pull back, might make him earn it.
I don’t.
I lift my other wrist immediately, eagerly.
Tie me down, sir.
His eyes darken. A flicker of something sharp, something hungry, flashes across his face.
Oh, he wasn’t expecting this.
The restraint slides against my skin again, and God, I am so in love.
The second it’s secure I flex my fingers. No escape.
Like I’d even try.
Then, he reaches for something else.
Something dark.
Something smooth.
I realize what it is the second before he speaks.
“You trust me, baby doll?” he asks.
My breath catches.
The blindfold.
Oh, my fucking God.
“Yes,” I whisper. “Yes, sir.”
He lifts it, trailing the silk over my cheek, down my throat, over my collarbone.
Teasing me. Testing me.
I’m shaking now. Shaking with need.
“Good girl,” he murmurs.