“I’ve thought about some pretty hardcore things, too. I want you to hurt me. I’m sure I want that. I want you to play me hard, like Paganini with his violin. Just once, if that’s all you’re okay with. But I’d like to work out this energy with you.”
“Sado-masochistic energy,” he murmured. “That’s what it is. I felt it for you even before I knew…”
She thought back to the way he’d held her at the party in L.A., the way he’d kissed her. “So…” She had to control her voice so it didn’t tremble. “How do we start?”
“Come here,” he said.
He started with a kiss. It was perfect and hard and fast as he slid his palm over the back of her neck. He tasted like wine when he gave her his tongue. She opened for it and melted against him when he pulled her closer. When she needed air, he nipped at her upper lip, not hard enough to bruise, just hard enough to give her some pain. She moaned, wishing she could hump against him. Yes, this is what I want. This intensity. Yes.
He pulled back at last and stood, holding out a hand. “Come on.”
Come here. Come on. She was into his bossy energy. She needed it so she didn’t lose her courage. Where was he taking her? What would his dungeon look like?
As promised, there was no cheesy decor. He’d converted a large guest suite into a multifunctional room. There was traditional furniture—a bed, a chair—but also some tables, ottomans, and racks that were definitely “convertible.” It was all smooth blond wood and burnished iron, classy but utilitarian, and definitely perverse.
He kissed her again now that he’d dragged her in here, even more roughly than before.
“You’re in for it,” he said, brushing fingers down her cheek. “I’m warning you, I like giving orders. I’ll ask you to take some pain, and I’m going to want to fuck you, probably in multiple ways. Fucking, pain, and bondage go together for me. Is that okay?”
“Yes,” she said. Yes, rip my clothes off. Make me hurt.
As if he’d read her mind, he started taking off her clothes, pulling off her shirt, pushing down her pants, exposing the skimpy lingerie Ethan had gotten her into wearing. He plucked the side of her black velvet thong.
“This is nice,” he said, before he tugged it down her hips. “I appreciate it, but I want you naked. It always starts with you completely naked, completely exposed.”
Oh, she felt exposed. And excited as hell.
“Jesus, Ruby. You’re beautiful.”
He stood back and gave her an appreciative once-over that shored up her bravery. Now that she was nude, he started undressing. No black vest, no pleather chaps. He got as naked as she was, and in his powerful, hard body, she saw the courage she lacked. He was so bold, so virile, so damn hard all over that it took her breath away.
He lowered the lights, giving her some time to breathe, and picked up a condom from a bowl beside the bed. The bondage bed. Would they start there? What would he do to her first?
“Get on your knees,” he said, and it wasn’t his usual voice. It was something deeper and harsher, and sexier. He went from the bed to a chest of drawers closer to the door, and started pulling out sexy looking shit. Cuffs, straps, something that looked like nipple jewelry. She sank to her knees, fighting the urge to cower. Within a minute, he had set the dynamic between them, and he was undeniably in charge.
He returned to her, throwing everything down in front of her, including the condom. His cock was inches from her face.
“Your safe word is Stravinsky,” he said. “Got it? Say it back to me.”
“Stravinsky,” she repeated, stifling the urge to smile. She knew Stravinsky was Jonathan’s least favorite composer.
“You don’t have to only use it to end things.” He tipped up her chin to look into her eyes. “You can use parts of it to tell me if you need me to slow down, or hold back. You can start with ‘Stra’ as a caution word and move to ‘Stravin’ if things start to feel too bad, like if you need a temporary break. ‘Stravinsky’ will stop everything, okay? The whole name stops whatever I’m doing to you. Do you understand?”
She nodded. It was a more musical system than the traditional green, yellow, and red. She wouldn’t forget.
“Don’t be afraid to use it, girl.”
Girl. Just like that, she was his sub, his kneeling object. It was exciting and scary and crazy.
“Listen to me. I’m in charge now.” He tapped her on the cheek, a firm touch, a warning. “I want you to open your mouth. Keep it open.”
She obeyed, knowing she was about to get fucked, and wanting it really, really bad. But first he needed to bind her. He’d told her that—fucking, pain, and bondage, and the items were right in front of her. The condom, cuffs, O-ring collar, a thin whip, and a thicker strap.