Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 130758 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 654(@200wpm)___ 523(@250wpm)___ 436(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130758 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 654(@200wpm)___ 523(@250wpm)___ 436(@300wpm)
It was like I was a teenager on the brink of her first time. Or how they were supposed to feel on their first time.
He came back and every ounce of excitement left as I saw what was in Gabriel’s hands, the ones still stained with the faded pinkness of blood. Ice rushed over my body.
His jaw was hard as he immediately gauged my reaction. “Easy,” he murmured, cupping my face. “Look at me,” he ordered.
Through labored breaths, I did.
“You’re safe with me. Always,” he promised.
I let the warmth in those hazel eyes chase the cold away.
“You need to have control? I’m giving you that. Complete control over this, over me. Though you don’t need these for that.” He pressed the cuffs into my shaking hands. “It’s to show you I’m at your mercy, baby, though I’ve been there since the moment you took the stage.” His mouth brushed against mine as he spoke.
Then he kissed me. Long and slow and gentle. Nothing like before. He let me lead. Let me get my feet back.
And before I knew it, I was so hot I could barely remember the ice anymore.
Through my haze, a thought came to me. I reluctantly pulled back from his lips and I saw he felt the same about the loss as I did. But he didn’t move. He held himself tight, the veins in his neck pulsing.
“I’ve got an idea,” I murmured.
“Please don’t say Scrabble,” he rasped.
I choked out a laugh, then nodded to his dining room chair. “Sit,” I ordered.
Without hesitation, he did so, though his gaze stayed locked on me. It ate me up. Consumed me. And it was so full of heat and hunger it didn’t tarnish me. It gave me power.
I wanted more. More of that foreign yet familiar feeling of power. What I’d been searching for when I tried to take the stage again.
I moved to his stereo system and plugged my phone in. Scrolling through, I found the perfect tune. Led Zeppelin’s “I Can’t Quit You Baby” started to play through the speakers.
Dangling the cuffs in my hands, I sauntered over to him, leisurely and unhurried, finding it. My strength.
“I think I had the right idea,” I purred, leaning over to clasp Gabriel’s muscled arms behind the chair. He sucked in a breath as I rubbed my chest against his face, my nipples standing to attention the second they made contact. “Trying to find my control by doing what I used to do.” There was a metallic click as I fastened his hands and stepped back from him.
He groaned in frustration, his expression cloaked in desire.
I started to move, unbuttoning the top of my shirt. “The stripping, I mean,” I continued. “Reclaiming ownership of what was mine in front of an audience.” I kept unbuttoning until I reached the bottom, letting the shirt fall to the floor so I was in the lacey bra and my jeans and combat boots.
Gabriel’s hiss penetrated the air.
I grinned slyly. “But I think I had the wrong audience. The wrong stage.” Instead of taking off any more, I stopped moving and slid my boots off, kicking them to the corner of the room.
The bass thumped and I moved with it, finding rhythm with my body once more, finding the tune when it had been so out of sync.
“The only audience I need, the only person I need to show the ownership of this?” I trailed my finger down my chest, between my boobs and down to the button of my jeans, undoing them. I glanced up, playing with the waistband of my jeans. “He’s sitting in that chair.” I stepped forward and touched my finger to his shoulder, trailing my hand over the letters on his cut as I circled the chair. I stopped behind him, circling my hands down his arms, tracing the ink and touching where the cold steel met his blazing skin. I bent down, past the skull on his neck so my mouth brushed his ear. “You know who owns this body?” I whispered, pressing my breasts to his back. “Me,” I answered, biting his earlobe.
He let out an incomprehensible grunt as I pushed away and circled back to his front.
I stood in front of him, my hands going to my waistband. His eyes were brands, glued to my body. Slowly, I pulled the jeans down my legs until they were gone and I was standing in front of him in my bra and panties.
I lost it there, a little of my bravado.
Okay, a lot of my bravado. This was the most I’d shown to anyone since then. The skin that was now becoming foreign thanks to the ink I was covering it with was still the same underneath, and I felt a terrible sense of panic at exposing it once more.