Page 60 of Prized Possession

Marcus looks at our conjoined hands again, before lifting his gaze to meet mine. His eyes darken and a mischievous look spreads across his face. “We’re having our first check-in dinner with your family tomorrow, so we can make a start then.”

I narrow my gaze at him, wondering what it is he’s not saying. “Why do I get the impression you’re deliberately not saying something?”

He chuckles before leaning over the table until he’s so close I can feel his breath against my cheek. “Because that’s exactly what I’m doing. You didn’t think I forgot about your punishment, did you?”

My eyes widen as my brows shoot to my hairline. “What?”

His lip tilts into that fucking devilishly sexy smirk of his, and his lips flutter beside my ear. “Get plenty of sleep tonight, Mio. You'll need all your energy for your punishment tomorrow.”

“Get plenty of sleep tonight, Mio. You’ll need all your energy for your punishment tomorrow.”

Those damn words were on repeat in my head the whole fucking night. Every time I closed my eyes, just to get a little bit of sleep, I was consumed with thoughts of what that might mean.

I may not be the most sexually experienced person in the world, and my past sexual history has all been distinctly vanilla, but that doesn’t mean I don’t read the odd spicy book, or watch porn.

But the problem with doing either of those things is that it doesn’t exactly help me narrow down what the word ‘punishment’ means to Marcus.

According to some people on the internet, it may be a much worse version of the edging he taught me the other day, with a bit of spanking thrown in—which I can honestly admit I’m intrigued about.

However, that does seem to be a somewhat mild form of punishment, and there are a million different forms on the punishment scale. I sawone video where the woman was completely tied up, dangling from the ceiling wearing nothing but rope.

Her tits were roped together, she had a ball gag in her mouth, and her hands were tied behind her back. Her hair had been tied back, but not in a normal way.

The tie seemed to be connected to something, and as I followed it, my eyes nearly popped out of my head when I saw it connected to the hook in her arse. So, every time she moved her head, it jostled the hook that was deep in her arsehole.

While the guy was swinging her around, flogging and whipping different parts of her, he’d be teasing her pussy. I have to admit, when he started hitting her clit with a riding crop, I was cringing and rubbing my thighs together in sympathy, while she cried and shook with what looked to be an earth-shattering orgasm.

I quickly realised that watching porn was only going to terrorise me. And that’s how I found myself struggling to sleep, wondering how to tell Marcus that I don’t like the idea of having a hook in my arsehole, or being suspended from the ceiling while he tortures my clit.

It may do it for some women, and I’m not above experimenting, but there are just some things I’m already certain I won’t enjoy.

Aren’t people in BDSM relationships supposed to have contracts or something?I think to myself, before chuckling as I remind myself that the only experience I have of BDSM relationships is through books and the internet, which can be vastly inaccurate.

The problem with staying up all night, looking at porn while panicking, is that eventually my mind drifts away from worrying, and that’s when I started thinking about all the things I might enjoy trying with him.

I should have known watching porn was a bad idea. Now I’m horny as fuck, and I daren’t touch myself. I’m already being punished, I don’t want to make it worse.

So, naturally, when I wake up in the morning, having only got a couple of hours of interrupted sleep, I’m tired, cranky, and unbelievably fucking horny.

I have a couple of hours before we’re scheduled to leave for my parents’ house, and I should probably get a little more sleep, but now that I’m awake, the nerves are back.

I’m a little surprised when I stomp into the kitchen to get my morning coffee to find that Marcus isn’t there, though my usual mug is next to the coffee machine waiting for me. Next to it is a note explaining he went for a run and will be back soon.

While I’m waiting for the coffee to brew, I pop some bread into the toaster.My parents will have had the chef go all out with a big Sunday lunch, so I don’t eat much.

Once I have my coffee and toast, I take a seat on one of the stools at the island and begin reading a cake decorating book I bought the other day. It has some interesting techniques I want to try for creating more realistic sugarpaste flowers.

I’m so lost in reading the instructions, I don’t hear the door to the apartment click open. It’s not until one of the stools opposite me scrapes on the floor that I flick my gaze up to see what made the noise.

My mouth drops open at the sight of a very sweaty, topless Marcus who has his head thrown back as he gulps from his water bottle. I watch the way his Adam's apple bobs as he swallows, and I find myself swallowing hard too. His hair is wet with sweat, making it look darker, but it still flops around in the most unbelievably sexy way.

I watch as sweat droplets make their way down his face, along the curve of his throat, down to his very naked chest. I’m sure my eyes look like something out of a fucking cartoon as they pop out of my head at the sight of the drops trailing over his ripped abs.

Don’t even get me started on his Adonis-like V that disappears below his running shorts. The guy is literally a god walking amongst us mere humans here on Earth, and given the way his lips curve into that fucking smirk of his when he catches me staring, he knows exactly the effect he has on women—me specifically.

“See something you like?” he drawls, winking at me when I finally drag my gaze up to his face.

What I bloody hate the most is that whilst his body is a work of art that I’d happily stare at for all eternity, it pales in comparison to his face.

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