He releases his hold on me and brings one hand to my cheek, where he uses the pad of his thumb to carefully stroke my lower lip. Reminded of how he bit me, I flinch, but he kisses away the sting, murmuring an apology. It’s dizzying how he can be so domineering and rough one moment, and then sweet and tender the next.
He leans in close, as calm and collected as ever. “Go into your bedroom, take off your dress, kneel on the floor, and wait for me.”
Despite my intense release mere moments ago, my body is hungry for more. More of everything. Those skillful kisses, rough hands, and the filthy words meant to make me submit.
I reach down to pull my panties back up, when a firm hand on my wrist stops me.
He shakes his head. “Who said you could put those back on?” He helps me step out of my panties and dangles them from his index finger. “My sexy little peach,” he murmurs.
When he tucks my discarded panties into his pocket, I know I’ve been dismissed.
My shaky legs carry me down the short, dark hallway into my bedroom. I’m unsure if I should turn on the light, but decide to do exactly as he asked. With trembling fingers, I untie the strings at the back of my neck and let the dress pool at my feet, then step out of my heels and place everything beside my dresser.
Once I’m completely nude, I kneel in the center of the room with my gaze trained on the floor and wait. My heartbeat is crashing against my ribs, and I’m filled with a strange sense of longing and anticipation. Sex is never like this. It’s always been in a bed, under the covers, without any dirty talk or forceful commands. Simple and straightforward. I know sex with my Dom is going to be anything but ordinary. And that’s way more exciting than it should be.
As I kneel in my darkened bedroom, naked and wet between my legs, the noise in my brain begins to quiet. I’m singularly focused on him. My gaze never strays from its focus on the floor near the door, on the swath of light that comes from the hall. My heartbeat grows heavy with anticipation.
Minutes pass and I hear a door close. Did he leave?
I fight with myself, wanting to stand up and go to the window and see if he’s left, but my body demands I stay put. So I continue waiting in my spot and several minutes later, I hear him. Footsteps coming closer.
When he enters the room, he’s carrying some type of small black leather bag. My heart riots in my chest.
He calmly crosses the room, all but ignoring me, and sets the bag on my bed. I don’t know if I should watch, but I can’t help my eyes from following him. He removes his suit jacket and neatly folds it, placing it on the table beside my bed. He unzips the bag and removes a black strip of fabric, and then turns to face me.
“Those greedy little eyes want to see everything, to form an opinion on it all, yes?”
I don’t answer. My breathing grows shallow as I continue watching him.
“The only thing I want you focused on is sensation, feeling. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“I want to show you what you’re capable of. Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” I say again. I’m not sure why, but I do. And trust me, I’m aware it’s absolutely insane.
He stands behind me and fastens the silk fabric over my eyes, tying it behind my head. It blocks my vision entirely. My heart rate increases as the realization that I’m in total darkness sinks in.
I listen closely and hear him walk toward the bed. Then I hear a match spark to life, and my entire body stiffens. His footsteps cross the room, and I’m about to ask what’s going on when the faint scent of sandalwood and black currant greets me. He’s lit a candle, I’m pretty sure. Maybe this is all part of a ritual for him. Nothing is rushed, everything is calculated and planned out, and I like that he’s taken so much time and care into planning my lessons.
I hear one loud thud and then another. He’s removed his shoes, I think.
“Hands behind your back.” He’s directly in front of me now. I can feel the heat emanating from his body.
I do as he’s asked and lace my fingers together at the small of my back. The new position pushes my breasts forward and out. I imagine what I must look like naked, blindfolded, and kneeling on the floor, bathed in the soft flicker of candlelight. Well, this is new.
“Such a pretty sight, peach.”
As he strokes my cheek with his thumb, I lean in toward his touch, feeling approval in every stroke of his fingertips. His hands continue their soft caresses, trailing down my neck and through the long tresses of my hair. His touch is gentle, restrained, as if he’s holding himself back. For now, at least.
“We need to discuss your limits. Are there things you’re uncomfortable with, Brielle?”