Page 71 of Always

“What question?” she interrupts.

“I see you glancing around. Wondering what I’m going to do to you with these restraints. You’ve underestimated me, Skye. Remember that evening when you turned off your phone so you wouldn’t get my email?”

She nods.

“I had some time here alone, and I looked around this place.” I glance to the hanging planter in her kitchen. “That hook is secured by a molly bolt. It can support at least fifty pounds.”

“I appreciate the compliment, but I weigh a lot more than that.” She gives me a teasing smile.

“That doesn’t matter, because your feet will be on the ground.The hook will simply hold your bound wrists above your head. All I need is to slide your table to the right slightly.”

The table still holds some of our dinner dishes, but with a flourish I slide it over without so much as jarring them.

“Your ceilings are low as well.” I step on a chair and grab the hanging plant, setting it gently on the table. “Where’s that crème brûlée?”

“In the fridge, but I have to do the topping.”

“Not tonight. Tonight, I want only the cream.” I raise an eyebrow. “Though I know it won’t be as delicious as your cream.”

She squirms, squeezing her thighs together. Her nipples are so hard they may pop off.

“Hold out your wrists.”

She obeys. I wrap the bindings around them in an intricate pattern, securing her tightly but not so tight as to be uncomfortable. Two strips of silk—a little over two feet long, by my estimation—hang from her wrists to secure her to the hook in the ceiling.

“Don’t you need to measure?” she asks.

I shake my head and then meet her gaze. “I never miss.”

I step on the chair once more and secure the other ends of the restraints to the hook.

“Good?” I ask.

She has a little slack, and her feet are flat on the floor, about fifteen inches apart. “Yeah. Good.”

I move the chair out of the way. “You’re going to stand there, Skye. You’re going to stand there quietly. No talking. And you’re going to take what I dish out.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

I walk around until I’m out of her vision. Then—

“Oh!” she squeals as my palm comes down on her ass.

“No talking!” I slap her harder this time, making my hand sting in that way that coils through me and lands in my groin.

She presses her lips together.

“You have the most beautiful ass, Skye. I still haven’t had the pleasure of fucking it.”

Does she remember? That night, we were supposed to…

“Not tonight,” I say. “Soon, but not tonight.”

I pick up the dish of crème brûlée. I stick my finger into the cream, swirl it around, and then hold it to her lips. “Taste.”

She licks my finger clean. Her tongue is soft against my flesh. My whole body responds with a shudder as I imagine the lushness of the dessert in her mouth, sliding down her throat.

I twirl my finger in the cream again, and this time I taste it. A low growl rises from my chest. It’s delicious. The only thing more creamy and delectable is Skye herself.

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