Page 88 of Honey Bee Hearts

He thrusts in one more time before he pulls back out. His fingers curl around the end of the collar and he pulls me up with it, forcing me to scramble to my feet so it doesn’t choke me. He immediately reaches for my clothing, tearing it off of me so fast, I can only stand still as he does so. As he shoves my pants down and reveals my prosthetic, he looks up at me as he carefully removes my pants.

“Do you trust me, Fable?” he asks.

I should say no. That would be smart, but it would also be a lie. “Yes,” I admit.

“How far are you willing to go to prove you trust me?” he asks, standing to full height. “How far will you let me go?”

I tense. “What does that mean?”

“What I said,” he replies, settling his hands on my hips. “Where is your hard line?”

I blink at him. “I. . . I don’t know.”

He nods. “I suspected, so here’s our deal.” He leans down and presses his lips to my temple. “If we reach a hard line, you tell me the word ‘whisker’. That’s our safe word. Anything becomes too much, you say that word and we’ll stop and regroup. Deal?”

How. . . considerate. I nod enthusiastically.

He pushes my hair back from my neck and strokes his hand down my body. “I respect you and I’ll respect your safe word.”

“I understand,” I murmur.

He grabs the end of the chain collar and tightens it just to the point of squeezing without cutting off my air. “Good,” he rasps. “Because to anyone on the outside, it’s going to look like I don’t.”

He grabs me around the neck so suddenly, I gasp. He pushes me backward, forcing me to move until the backs of my thighs hit the table in the room. He shoves everything off of it and forces me to sit, his fingers going down to the edge of my prosthetic sock.

“Is this comfortable?” he asks.

“I’m used to it.”

“That’s not what I asked,” he says dangerously.

I hesitate before slowly shaking my head. “No. It’s not super comfortable.”

He dips his finger beneath the edge of the plastic top. “May I?”

Slowly, I nod and watch as he starts to unbuckle things before pulling it free. He sets the prosthetic on the table beside me and reaches for the sock layers. Slowly, he pulls each one off, until he reveals the mangled flesh beneath. I flush, feeling exposed, but he strokes his fingers along my scars, tracing each one as if he’s memorizing them, before he leans down and presses a kiss against my skin. He straightens and reaches forhis shirt. He jerks it open, sending the buttons flying around the room, uncaring. His pants and boots go next, leaving him standing in nothing in front of me. As for me, all I wear is the collar.

He traces his hands down my chest, across my ribcage, groping my stomach, before he strokes his fingers through the wetness between my thighs. He purrs when he realizes how wet I am.

“Stand up,” he orders.

I blink up at him. “What?”

“Stand up,” he repeats, pulling at the chain.

I jerk up, balancing on my right leg, my hand holding onto the table, so I don’t topple over. His hand comes out to steady me despite the command. He leans in and runs his teeth along my neck, his breath fanning across my flesh.

“Is it wrong of me to enjoy this?” he growls.

“Which part?” I pant, my fingers tightening on the table.

“That you need me right now,” he groans, before pushing my prosthetic further away. “The fucked up things goin’ through my mind right now should send me to hell.”

I swallow thickly. Whatever he’s thinking, it has to be bad. “What things are you thinking about?”

“You sure you’d like to know, Annie Oakley?” he groans. “If I say them out loud, I may wanna act on ‘em.”

“Just say it,” I grunt, my fingers going up to dig into his sides.

---