Page 61 of His Dark Pact

Good? Had she just said good? The bastard had exploited and denigrated her, and the first time he asked for feedback, she told him it wasgood? Amy must be beyond insane. She must need clinical help.

“Lovely.” He sounded pleased. “And to your question, I call you my little girl because you are.” His alluring eyebrow cocked as though his point was obvious. “You’re so much more fragile than I am...” His focus fell to her chest. “All soft curves and emotions. I think you’re utterly captivating.”

“Do you?” What did that mean? Her hammering heart hoped for more than was possible, but she clutched at the ill-founded desire, anyway.

“I do.” He squeezed her shoulder. “But that does not excuse you from your responsibilities. If you want your money, then you’re going to have to work for it.”

“Yes.” She glanced around, catching sight of the gag still waiting on the sofa. “I’ll get to work, sir.”

“Bring the gag to me.” His hand fell to his side, leaving her bereft.

“What about these, sir?” She motioned to the fabric caught between her stocking-clad legs, longing for permission to pull them up, yet unwilling to do so until he assented.

“Ah, yes. They are rather in the way. Take them off.”

That hadn’t been the answer she’d been hoping for, although as she shuffled them to her ankles and kicked them aside, she wondered if she’d known all along what his plan had been.

“Here.” He held out a palm, his face expectant, and gingerly, she crouched to collect the damp fabric.

Placing them on his upturned hand, she cringed, contemplating if any moment had ever been so shame-inducing, except, she wasn’t half as chastened as she might have been. It seemed every time he disgraced her, he pushed her limits of what she considered embarrassing a little more, and ultimately, he always seemed able to make the act seem hot.

“Thank you.” His fingers closed around her panties, and she watched helplessly as he slid them into his inside pocket. “And the gag?”

His sterner tone sent her scurrying to obey. As she moved, she realized the back of her skirt was still tucked into the waistband of the dress where he’d slid it to spank her. In the course of around an hour, he’d managed to reduce her to wearing only an elaborate silky belt and stockings. Everything else was bared—for him.

Anxiety spiked in her chest as she presented him with the evil-looking contraption. She could scarcely believe he wanted her to wear the damn thing, let alone that she’d yielded on the issue.

“How long will I have to wear it for, sir?” No doubt he could hear the alarm rising in her voice. He probably liked it.

“Until I say you don’t.” His reply was matter-of-fact. “You have plenty to be getting on with.”

He wasn’t wrong. She’d hardly even started work on the dresser of antiques.

She sighed, the sound shuddering. “It’s just... I don’t know how I’ll be if I—”

The light touch of his finger under her jaw silenced whatever she had been about to say. That, it seemed, was another Kyle superpower—the ability to make even the weirdest shit seem tender and logical.

“Trust me.” He lifted her chin, insisting she meet his eyes. “Have I let you down so far, little girl?”

“No, sir.”

He’d taken plenty of scandalous liberties, but he was right—he’d always left her feeling satisfied or at least safe. He might have had the means to get away with outrageous crimes in his country mansion, but she’d never had the sense of real risk with him—only that dizzying awareness that things were lusciously out of her control in the best possible way.

“Then know I won’t start now.” His gaze bored into her. “You’ll wear the gag and dust for me, and when you’ve had enough, I’ll take you somewhere to warm you up.”

To warm me up?

Despite her nakedness, she couldn’t say she felt cold, but she definitely wasn’t going to argue. She had an idea that she’d appreciate whatever he had in mind as a so-called reward, and she still remembered his earlier words—if she complied, he’d give her a bonus.

More pleasure.

She wanted that. She wanted that badly.

Bad enough to assent to the gag.

Bad enough to potentially cede to a great many other obscenities.

“Open that pretty mouth.”

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