Page 39 of Coerced Wife

Not completely.

Do I trust him with my heart?

Not at all.

Do I trust him with my body?

Utterly.

He’s proven time and again that he doesn’t want to hurt the baby, that he wants me healthy and happy. Well, as happy as I can be in our twisted situation.

“It depends,” I say.

“Right here, right now, do you trust me to take care of your pleasure?”

I don’t have to think twice about that. “Yes.”

His voice drops an octave, hunger resonating on the deep, raspy timbre. “I’m going to tie you up, and I won’t untie you until you come for me, even if you beg.”

My heart starts racing, and the reaction isn’t negative. I can’t deny that the thought of being so helpless beneath him scares me, but that only makes me burn hotter.

“You’re going to lie real still,” he says, wording the command like a warning, “and continue being a good girl for me.”

The fact that he’s not asking isn’t lost on me. He’stellingme what’s going to happen.

I swallow against my fear. “Are you going to hurt me?”

“Only if you want me to.”

“Will you stop if I tell you to?”

“No,” he says without as much as blinking. “That’s not the point of tying you up. If I restrain you, you give your control to me and trust that I know what’s best for you.”

“What about a safe word?”

His lips tilt in one corner. “I’m not into the kind of kink that plays by the rules.” He adds with meaning, “Not with you.”

“What if I don’t want it?”

He bends down and sucks a nipple into his mouth, inviting a gasp when he swirls his tongue around the aching tip. “I know what you want, and I know what you need.” He lifts his head and looks at me with something like wicked sympathy before promising, “You’re going to love everything I’m going to do to you.” His order is brusque. “Stay.”

He gets off the bed and walks to the dressing room with the ease of a man who’s comfortable in his naked skin.

My heart keeps beat between my ribs. I’m both apprehensive and excited about this new game. If I were wise, I’d never let him make me that helpless, but he does things to me, pulling me deeper into his darkness and corrupting me a little more with each passing day.

He returns a short while later with some of my silk scarves in one fist and a black velvet bag I know only too well in the other.

My cheeks heat at the sight of my vibrator.

“You did go through my things,” I say when he stops at the edge to the bed and drops the bag next to me.

He only smiles, not bothering to deny the accusation. He works quietly but efficiently, tying my wrist to the bedpost with one of the scarves before doing the same with my ankles. When he’s done, I’m almost spread-eagled, having both my legs and one arm secured while keeping one hand between my legs as he ordered. The silk is soft enough not to cut into my skin, and the knots are loose enough not to stop my blood flow.

He steps back and studies his work. My gaze is drawn to the thick length of his cock that’s already rock-hard again. My heart pounds a little faster when he opens the nightstand drawer and takes out a box.

“I like your toys,” he says, “but I got you a new one.” He opens the box, showing me something that looks like a butt plug, only bigger. “This will fit snugly in your pussy, keeping my cum in when you climax for me.”

I gasp when I understand what it’s for.

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