Page 38 of Absolution
Something hot and savage heats my chest, an almost feral possessiveness I’ve never known before. It’s probably twisted and toxic, but I don’t care.
Dane ismine.
He takes my hand and helps me to stand up from my perch on the edge of the bathroom counter. We walk into the bedroom side by side, and I can’t stop staring at his perfect profile.
He shoots me a devastating grin and opens his sock drawer.
“Really?” I ask. “That’s where you’ve been storing a tracking device?”
He shrugs. “I don’t expect my wife to wash my socks for me. I wasn’t concerned about you rummaging around in here.”
He retrieves what he needs and then leads me to the bed. We both sit on the edge of the mattress, and I watch with rapt fascination as he sets up the syringe and tiny bead that will allow me to track his every move.
The moment seems surreal, but when he presses the syringe into my hand, I don’t hesitate.
He rolls up his sleeve and indicates a spot on his upper arm. “Right here. Not too deep.”
His long, elegant fingers gently close around mine, and he directs the needle to the correct location and angle.
Then his emerald eyes meet mine. “Are you ready?”
I nod. “You’re mine, Dane Graham.”
He grins at me, and he appears almost drunk on pleasure.
“Oh yes, my queen,” he agrees. “All yours. Forever.”
I flush with my own pleasure, and then the tracker is lodged beneath his skin.
“Perfect,” he praises. “Good girl.”
The dichotomy of the diminutive term with the reverent endearment of being his queen makes my insides molten. With Dane, I’m worshipped and cherished, but I’m also owned, body and soul.
Now, I own him too.
Our bond is twisted and probably wrong, but I don’t care. As long as I can have my dark god, that’s all that matters to me.
He sets the syringe on the nightstand so that he can pull me in for a deep, hungry kiss. I stake my claim with my teeth, and he groans against me. He doesn’t rebuke me for my ferocity; he seems to revel in it.
We tear at each other’s clothes. Within a few frenzied minutes, I’m naked, and he’s shirtless. Before I can remove his pants, he places his big hands on my shoulders and breaks our kiss with a firm shove. My shocked gasp turns into a delighted giggle when my back hits the soft mattress.
I reach for him, but he shakes his head with a small, regretful smile. “Patience, little dove. I don’t want to fight you today.”
“I don’t want that either.” I relax, waiting for his next move.
After the intense fear and anguish of the afternoon, I want to be intimate with my husband. I don’t feel like engaging in a power struggle with him right now. All I want is to hold him and have him hold me, but he has other, more wicked ideas.
He ducks into the closet for a moment, and when he comes back to me, he’s holding a thick, black wand with a cord attached. At first, I think it’s a vibrator, but it doesn’t have a rounded head. Instead, he inserts a narrow, rounded plug into it that’s attached to a long cable that ends in a metallic silver plate.
“What’s that?” I ask, curious but also slightly anxious.
The little thrill of fear fizzes through me, fueling my mounting lust. I’m already wet and ready for him, and my inner muscles contract in anticipation of his cock.
“It’s a violet wand,” he replies, as though that explains everything.
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“You’ll see, my curious pet.”
