Page 28 of Reveal Me
He skims the pages painfully slowly. Is he drawing this out deliberately? Of course he is.
‘I can’t sign this,’ he says darkly, and I hear the paper flutter to the island.
I say nothing, certain it’s a test. I don’t look up. Don’t dare to move even a muscle.
‘Because if I do, you will officially be my submissive.’ I hear the base of his wine glass dragging across the marble countertop as he drags it towards him.
Still, I say nothing. I hear him swallow as he takes another drink. ‘And touching my submissive outside of Reveal is strictly forbidden.’
I suck in a breath. What’s he proposing? The anticipation is killing me. It’s also ruining the lining of my bodysuit.
‘You know, you never did get a proper trial,’ he muses, and I get an idea of where this is going. ‘Would you like the opportunity to show me what a good girl you can be?’
‘Yes, sir.’ Still, I don’t dare look up.
‘I’m going to give you a tiny taste of this life, right now, right here in this kitchen. And when I’m finished with you, if you still want to sign up, I’ll sign the contract.’
‘Thank you, Sir.’
‘Don’t thank me. This is entirely for my benefit, not yours. Take your clothes off,’ he demands. His gravelly tone sends shivers skating over my spine.
‘Yes, sir.’ I slip out of my patent Louboutin peep-toes and line them neatly beside me, wiggle the leather Victoria Beckham pants down over the curve of my hips, then my thighs. I feel the burn of his stare, but I don’t look up. Instead, I revel in the knowledge that I have his undivided attention. Having an audience was thrilling on Friday, but this is next level. When I’m free of the leather, I fold the trousers and place them on top of my shoes, before unclipping the lace bodysuit.
He says nothing, but I don’t miss his sharp inhale as I pull the lace over my head, revealing myself to him. I toss the bodysuit on the pile and kneel before him again. I’m so aroused I’m ruining his expensive flooring, but I’m too turned on to even care. My nipples are furled little buds, begging to be touched, my blood is molten lava pumping through my veins, and the throbbing sensation between my legs is practically painful.
‘How does it feel being on your knees for me? Knowing you’ve relinquished your power—submitted to me.’ His voice oozes raw masculinity, confidence, and control. His patience is remarkable. If he took his clothes off in front of me, I’d have climbed him like a telegraph pole.
I wet my lips. ‘It feels… oddly empowering.’
‘That’s the thing most people don’t get. Choosing to submitisempowering. Surrendering your needs is empowering. As your dom, I’ll take care of those needs. You just have to trust me.’ His fingers reach to cup my chin, and he tilts myface upward until our eyes lock. Electricity pulses between us. ‘Do you trust me?’
‘Yes, sir.’ I nod to reinforce it.
‘Good girl,’ he purrs in a throaty tone. My insides melt. ‘Now, let’s get started. Get up on the table and lie face down. I’ll be back in a minute.’
I glance at the thick, dark wood polished table across the room, and I’m crawling towards it before I’ve had the chance to even think about it. The anticipation of what he might do to me has me salivating. I hoist myself up as gracefully as I can manage and lie as he instructed, with my head in the middle of the table and my feet dangling over the edge. The wood is cold against my breasts, but it does nothing to quell the fire licking every inch of my skin. I press my cheek down and face away from the door he just walked out of and wait for him to return.
Thirty seconds later, the soft thud of his approaching shoes rings through my ears. A shiver of anticipation ripples over my spine. Tonight, I’m not ‘your majesty’, ‘your highness’, or ‘your’ anything. Tonight, I’m just me. And I’m his for the taking.
He prowls around the table, taking in the scene in front of him. I watch out of the corner of my eye as he wraps his fingers around my wrist, lifts my hand, and places it in a loop made of rope, then tightens it to the point it tugs.
‘How does that feel?’ he demands darkly, yanking on it as he lowers himself to a crouching position on the floor beside the table. His hands disappear, and it takes me a minute to realise he’s tying the rope to one of the sturdy table legs.
I sneak a peek at his face while he’s engrossed in securing the rope. ‘It feels… utterly depraved. I love it.’ A flash of approval lights his eyes as he moves around the table and reaches for my other wrist. He binds it equally tight, tugging once again to make sure it’s secure. It is. I couldn’t move if I wanted to, which obviously, I don’t.
He prowls around the table to my feet. I let out a shriek as he grabs both ankles and yanks my legs open. ‘You’re cunt is dripping for me, Princess.’
I can’t even try to deny it.
His hand reaches for my backside, mapping it and squeezing, then releasing. ‘Let’s see if it’s still dripping for me after this.’ It’s the only warning I get before his palm cracks against my bare ass. The sound is almost as shocking as the sting. It wasn’t hard, but still, my skin burns—in a way that I never knew could feel so good. Instinctively I pull against the restraints. The reminder that I can’t get away—that he has me tied and trapped to his table and only serves to soak me further. I’ve never felt more alive.
‘How did that feel?’ He stalks around the table then circles back on himself.
‘It feels like more,’ I admit.
‘It feels like more,please, sir.’ He corrects me, as his palm connects with my ass again. Fuck, there’s something so wanton about writhing naked on his table while he slaps my backside like I’m a naughty girl caught with her hand somewhere it shouldn’t have been.
‘It feels like more, please, sir,’ I pant, pulling at the rope again, purely because I love the sensation.
