Page 16 of How to Belong with a Billionaire

“That’s not what I”—I twined my hands together—“this isn’t how it’s supposed to be.”

“How is it supposed to be?”

“Easy.”

She was quiet for a horrible forever.

“For both of us,” I added quickly. “You shouldn’t have to deal with my…my…whatever is wrong with me.”

“Well,” she drawled. “I’ve never been particularly interested in easy. But I think you need to tell me what you want. As honestly as you can.”

I stared at my feet…which were no help. Damn you, feet. “I’m not sure.”

“Try again.”

God, she could sound stern when she wanted to. And it was super hot.

Closing my eyes, I let the words come before my brain could stop them. Before I even knew myself what they were. “I want to…feel something that isn’t about him. I want to have something that isn’t his.”

Another silence. I risked a peep from beneath my lashes, and found George grinning like a shark. “I can give you that.”

“And w-what would I be giving you?”

“The knowledge that you want this from me.”

I was used to George’s laughter. Her bossiness. The way she teased and flirted. But these glimpses of sincerity were doing funny things to me. Making me feel special.

“I do.” It came out in a rush of longing. And all at once, the world got a whole lot simpler. Because I recognised what George was looking for. It was what I’d tried to give to Caspian. What I’d needed to give. The impossible tangle of strength and vulnerability that was submission.

Dropping to my knees felt like fucking homecoming.

“Please,” I said.

And George made a rough sound of satisfaction, her fingers light in my hair and against my face. “What a gift you are. So very sweet.” Her lips curled into the wickedest smile I’d ever seen. “I am going toruinyou, poppet.”

It took her about ten minutes.

She chained me to the table thing—actual chains that clipped to the cuffs she put on my wrists, and thighs, and ankles. I’d never been so thoroughly tied up before. Apart from some unexpected bow tie shenanigans at Ellery’s birthday, Caspian had always preferred to control me with his hands and body. And I wasfinewith that. But I couldn’t help responding to the novelty, my skin prickling with curiosity as George positioned me the way she wanted—facedown, arse up, legs shamelessly wide—and bound me tight. It was more impersonal than clasped wrists and the heat of someone else on top of me, but fuck, it was intense in a whole different way. When Caspian held me down, I’d always known I was a word away from freedom, but metal couldn’t hear me, couldn’t feel me. I needed George. And that extra layer of dependence made my stomach flip and my heart quicken. It was sexy and scary and everything I liked.

Then came the blindfold and the heat of George’s breath against my ear as she whispered, “Now you’ll feel whatIwant you to feel.”

My answer was a whimper and an involuntary wriggle that made the chains rattle. Normally I wouldn’t have liked not being able to see, but it was a fear-of-missing-out-type deal—especially with Caspian, who I’d always thought was being stingy with me, rather than just painfully self-conscious for reasons that only now made sense.

Sigh. Regrets. I had a few. I got why he hadn’t told me. But why the fuck hadn’t he told me? Instead of leaving me floundering, hurting, trying desperately to understand him. Except then I remembered how much he’d given me too. The trust it must have taken to put himself in my hands and let me coax his pleasure through his fear.

My lashes scraped against the fabric over my eyes. Apparently I was crying again. Oh joy. What a bundle of sexy fun I’d turned out to be. But I was also starting to appreciate the darkness. Partly because, the way I was currently arranged, all I was losing was a sideways view of a bare wall. But also because it felt safe.

It was quiet behind my blindfold, the edges of everything inside mesoftenedsomehow, and everything else magnified until my world was mostly physical. The pressure of the cuffs against my skin. The heat of the leather beneath me. The arch of my spine and the curl of my fingers. The helpless twitching of my toes. Tiny sensations but indisputably there, like stepping-stones leading me back to…me.

“Forgive me a cliché,” murmured George, “but you look good enough to eat.”

Needless to say, I was well up for being eaten. I just hadn’t realised howliterallyshe meant it until I felt the too-intimate ripple of her breath against my…well, y’know, my arsehole.

“Oh…oh Jesus. F-f-fuck.”

Her only answer was a wicked laugh. And something that involved her mouth, like, on me. Right on me. Enveloping me in this wet heat and…God…suction. There wassuction. And it was a good job I was chained down, because otherwise I would have hit the fucking ceiling. It was like my sphincter was Monaco and every nerve in my body suddenly wanted to take a luxury vacation.

I’d done this before. Okay, I’d done it once. Because the other guy had really wanted to. Except we’d both been epically wankered, so the only thing I’d really got from the experience was a hazy memory of it not being all that it was cracked up to be. And the first words out of his mouth the next morning had been “Uhhhhh, what the fuck kind of kebab did I eat last night,” which hadn’t made me feel, y’know, great.

---