Page 137 of Their Arrangement
I stared at my reflection in the glass. Lips parted. Chest rising too fast. The lace of the corset was visible beneath the blouse now. The outline of my nipples. The strain of silk across my hips. Every inch of me bared without a button undone.
And then?—
“Breathe.”
His voice was low. Like a blade drawn slow from its sheath. I did. Barely.
He stepped closer. His breath ghosted along the back of my neck. Fingers reached up. Brushed my hair to one side. Slidover the first button. Then the second. He didn’t shake. But I did.
He didn’t speak. Didn’t ask. Just opened me. Unbuttoned silk. Parted lace. Made me available.
His hand hovered above the corset. Didn’t touch. Just traced the outline of the restraint he’d wrapped me in. Fingers brushed the edge where fabric met skin. My breath stuttered. His mouth hovered at my ear.
“You think the clothes make the role.”
My knees buckled slightly. A flicker. A reaction. He pressed a hand to the small of my back. Not hard. But firm. Guiding. Corrective.
My spine arched—just slightly.
“They don’t,” he said.
His voice was quiet.
Final.
“The obedience does.”
My chest squeezed around the inhale I hadn’t taken. His hand slid higher. To the nape of my neck. Warm. Heavy. Grounding. And then?—
Gone.
Just like that.
The absence hit harder than the touch.
I stayed bent over the desk long after the door clicked shut behind him. Still. Silent.
My chest tight. My thighs slick. My whole body trembling—not from fear. Not even from shame. From want. From hunger sharpened by denial.
I buttoned my blouse with shaking fingers. Every press of silk against skin was a reminder. Of where he’d touched. And where he hadn’t.
I should’ve felt relief. Should’ve felt power. But all I felt was the void. The echo of something I wasn’t sure I couldname. The office floor felt colder when I stepped out. Or maybe it was me. Stripped. Raw. Carrying the ghost of his fingers like a second skin.
I walked through the bullpen like nothing had happened.
But everything had.
Royal looked up from his phone. Smirked. His eyes slid down my frame. Paused at the top of my blouse. Still undone. Still marked. He didn’t speak. Didn’t need to. His smirk said it all.
Good girl.
Loyal passed me in the corridor. Didn’t meet my gaze. But he paused. Long enough. His jaw tight. His eyes sharp. His silence louder than anything Royal could say. He knew. They all did.
When I reached my desk, I sat carefully. Too carefully. The corset bit deep into my ribs. The lace was soaked through. My hands hovered over the keyboard. But they didn’t type. Couldn’t. Because I could still feel him. Not his fingers. Not his breath.
Him.
The gravity of the moment. The power in restraint. The way he didn’t need to fuck me to take me apart.
