Page 62 of Plaything

Taking in her beauty for another second, I gave her an approving look. Good girl. I walked around the counter, past her, and started up the stairs.

Water droplets fell from my hair as I put on shorts after my shower. I felt refreshed, having washed the day away in a cold shower. Odette’s shower was running across the hall, and I knew she was doing the same.

Standing at the end of my bed, I looked down at the black silk sheets. Truth be told, I’d never had a woman in my bed—or even in my room, for that matter. This space was mine, and I didn’t care to share it with anyone. We typically used a spare room whenever hooking up.

If I was going to make this work, I couldn’t take her into some random empty room. I’d probably end up hurting her feelings if I insisted on doing this in her room or another room. As much as I wasn’t a fan of having people in my room, I’d make an exception for her.

My bed was made to the best of my ability; the corners were slightly wrinkled, and the pillows were dented from the months of use. The walls were painted gray, with one painting to decorate them. It was a skeleton, hand drawn with charcoal and colored pencil. I found it a few years ago while attending an anatomy event. It amazed me that someone had drawn a skeleton so accurately with mediums that weren’t easy to work with. The artwork represented the beauty of human anatomy, even the delicate movements of the hands of the artist who made it.

A soft knock at my door broke me from my thoughts. I glanced at my closed door before looking my bed over once more. Running my hand over the silk edge, I smoothed the crease of one of the corners. I didn’t know why I cared so much about the small wrinkles. My room was orderly, and there was no clutter. I suppose it was because she was always so put together; I didn’t want her to feel unwelcome here.

Opening the door, my gaze immediately zoned in on her. She undressed nicely into tiny blush shorts with a floral design and an incredibly sheer white top ending just below her ribs. The sleeves were much too long for her arms, going over the palms of her clenched fists, leaving her fingers sticking out. The collar or the shirt beautifully displayed her shoulders and collar bones, complimenting her features.

Only she could make an otherwise innocent-looking outfit alluring. The shorts were short, and her top didn’t cover much of anything with its sheerness.

I had to commend her on her ability to tease with minimal effort. There was no doubt in my mind about the reason why she wore this—both of those reasons were beckoning my eyes downward. Her nipples were hard under the thin fabric, the swell of her breast outlined a few inches above where the flimsy top ended. I only looked for a second as my eyes ran down her body.

Her legs were stunning—any model would be jealous. Long, toned, tan, and smooth, they perfectly complimented the rest of her body.

My eyes met hers after five seconds of gawking. To my surprise, she looked satisfied.

So she was feeling brave tonight? I knew she must have spent time contemplating what to wear. She chose this. Despite her nerves, she knew that sleeping wasn’t our intention—not immediately.

I stepped aside, allowing her into my room. I smirked behind her; oh, how that braveness will crumble.

Her plump ass—my favorite physical feature of hers—caught my attention like it always did. The shorts she wore covered her, although when she walked, I was able to see the slightest amount of her ass cheek.

Did she want me to spank her? I’d given her a little tap a few times—nothing compared to the hand marks I’d like to leave her with. She always seemed surprised and jumped, but she’d ask me to stop if she opposed it. So again, I ask, did she want me to spank her?

I wanted to know what she expected from tonight—not that she’d ever tell me. Even in her outfit that screamed ‘touch me,’ she was too shy to express her wants. She wasn’t good at communicating with words; her facial expressions and body language gave everything away. I understood this because I wasn’t the best at communicating either, but I could hide my other tells.

The door thudded against the frame as I closed it, making her turn to me. She stood, looking out of place in the center of my room. Her sleeves were pulled over her wrists and palms, and she fidgeted with them nervously.

I was going to make her talk. Something that Niko and Wyatt hadn’t done when they were alone with her. I wasn’t nice enough to give her that courtesy.

This relationship would never work if we couldn’t communicate. I didn’t care how uncomfortable it made her; she’d get over it. She had enough emotional intelligence to understand why it was necessary; she just needed to be pushed in the right direction.

I stood at her parallel, “Since you’re the one doing the bondage tonight, I’ll let you make the call,” I started. “Do you want to tie me up now, or would you like to have a conversation about what you think is going to happen tonight first?” I questioned.

I saw her neck turn a few shades darker, but it didn’t reach her face as she shifted her weight from one leg to the other. “We can talk,” she agreed, probably taking the opportunity to stall again.

Good girl. I sat on the end of my bed, gesturing for her to sit beside me. She sat down, one leg tucked under her ass and the other resting on the floor. Personal space and touch weren’t an issue for her—she was sitting close, and her knee was brushing against my thigh.

The simple knee touch made me happy. Odette was nervous, but I wasn’t making her anxious. She felt comfortable enough to be close to me, which wasn’t something I was used to.

She leaned her weight back on one arm and smiled at me, almost sarcastically. “What do you want to talk about?” Humor was her way of coping with uncomfortable situations. As long as she was open to having this conversation, she could cope how she’d like.

“What are you planning on doing after you’ve tied me up?” I asked, selfishly wanting to know.

She averted her eyes, and I saw a creeping blush again. She pierced her lips before she met my eyes, “That depends,” she raised her eyebrows at me. “Am I allowed to take your shorts off?” She asked boldly.

A smirk escaped my void expression at her forward counter-question. I thought my answer would be obvious to her. “As much as I appreciate you asking, Darling, that answer will always be yes.”

“Noted,” she laughed.

“Will yours be coming off?” I continued. This answer would tell me all I needed to know. She could use her hands, mouth, or grind on me through her shorts. She could do nothing with my dick at all and tease me for all I knew. But if her shorts were coming off too, we would end up a sticky mess—which I was sure she knew.

Her eyes stayed locked on mine like she hadn’t given this much thought. “I’m not sure,” she shrugged. “Truthfully, I don’t have a plan. I figured I’d give spontaneity a try,” she answered shyly.

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