Page 48 of Dirty Damage

If she squirms, all the better.

If she protests—well, that’s what my cuffs and silk gags are for.

I close my eyes, count to three. Self-control and discipline are the bedrocks I’ve built my reputation on. People call me the Beast, but nothing I do is without purpose.

And dragging Sutton to my bedroom to act out my darkest fantasies would only serve to undermine our contract and complicate an already precarious situation.

There’s a time and place for everything.

If blue balls are the price I have to pay to maintain control of this situation, so be it.

She throws her hands over her head, swaying her body like she’s purposefully trying to make my life hell.

“Sutton.” I call her name, trying to get her attention and end my torment.

But she can’t hear a thing over the woman screeching her lungs out on my speakers. The entire building must be able to hear this.

Sutton shimmies sideways toward the sink, pretending to sing into a dirty ladle before dropping it into soapy water with a splash.

Her dancing is atrocious, but I’m getting harder with every move of her body—turned on despite her complete lack of rhythm.

Finally, mercifully, she turns in what might be an attempt at a pirouette. Instead, she stumbles to a stop with a screech.

Her wide eyes meet mine.

I bite back a laugh as she trips over herself to silence the stereo. The sudden silence is deafening.

“You scared the shit out of me,” she gasps, hand to her heart.

“I tried to announce myself, but you were busy.”

She bites her full bottom lip. “How long were you watching?”

Longer than you know.But I decide to keep the security cameras covering every inch of this penthouse to myself. For now.

“Long enough to know why you chose childcare over a career in music.”

“God, this is mortifying,” she groans.

“The singing was rough, but the dancing?Thatwas embarrassing. Bonus points for enthusiasm, though.”

She shoots a glare at me, but it softens with a smile she can’t stop. Her eyes crinkle.

They’re my favorite shade of blue—the Atlantic after a storm. The view of the water is why I bought this penthouse in the first place.

The view ofheris infinitely better.

Our eyes lock and hold long enough that I’m back to thoughts of her in my closet, her hands bound in satin, her body beneath mine.

Like she can read my mind, Sutton looks away. “Sorry about the mess. I didn’t think— I thought I’d be alone.”

“You will be most days,” I admit. “Only three people have access to this condo, aside from you. Me, Uri, and Artem.”

“Artem? Who’s that?”

I drag a hand through my hair. “Artem is?—”

My best friend. Head of security. And my right-hand man.

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