Page 104 of Pack of Crooks
“You’re doing so good,” he murmurs, moving the rope behind my body. His words almost sound distant. Like there’s a thick layer of soundproof glass between us. “We’re almost done.”
I only have the strength to hum, too lost in the sensations that this experience is creating. I’m in no hurry to be free of these bindings. The rope presses into my skin, tightening ever so slightly for a second before relaxing just enough. It’s still tight and secure, but it’s not painful.
Kill moves in front of me, eyes heating as he takes in his work, the ropes crossing over my stomach. I follow his gaze. The red leans more toward crimson and is striking against my skin. The knots are centered on my torso, and the ropes are placed in a way that gives the illusion of four loops. . . No, that’s not right. It’s— “Wings.”
“A dragonfly,” Kill corrects softly, shuffling toward me, cupping my face in his hands and gazing at me with so much pride my chest warms. “I knew you were perfect,” he says before capturing my mouth, tongue sweeping inside to steal both my breath and the soft moan that rolls out of me.
He pulls away too soon, but when his thumbs stroke over my cheeks, my eyes flutter closed, and a lazy smile cuts across my face.
“You did so good for me, pretty thief.” He runs the pad of his finger over my lip. “So good.” His fingers thread through my hair, and he massages the back of my head, whispering praises that I savor, that I’ll hold close and cherish for those days when the world is too hard to handle.
I don’t know how long we stay like that, him keeping me in some trance-like state, but when he releases the first knot, I almost want to cry in protest.
“Why?” I complain.
“Because it’s your first time, and as pretty as you look, I’m worried you’re going to crash hard.”
“I won’t,” I swear. “Please.”
His gaze finds mine, so serious and severe, and I snap my mouth closed, swallowing the rest of my protests. Nodding, he carefully undoes the next knot, holding my gaze. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes.” The answer is instant and to my surprise, completely honest.
“Then trust me to ease you into this, okay?”
“Okay,” I whisper.
He kisses me, and releases more of the bind, but with his tongue caressing mine, it doesn’t feel like he’s robbing me of my peace. It still doesn’t feel right, but I have to trust Kill. He’s way more experienced with this stuff than I am.
When he slides the last of the rope down my arms, my cheeks are damp. He sets the rope aside and cups my face, concern creasing his brow.
“You’re okay.”
“I know,” I confess. “I don’t even know why I’m crying.”
“How did it feel when you were tied up?”
“Like a dream.”
He nods. “That’s subspace. You’re coming down.” Gathering me in his arms, he lies back and cradles me, running his hands down my back in soothing strokes. “It’s normal. Almost like the same type of crash you might experience after running from the cops.”
I snuggle into his arms, suddenly really cold. “How do you know I’ve run from the cops?”
“You’re saying you haven’t?”
I press my lips together.
He chuckles. “Exactly. Whenever you go into subspace, it’s my job to help you out of it. If I don’t, then I’m not worthy of your trust.”
“So what, you’re like a dom?”
“I don’t really use that title, but yeah, right now, we have a sub/dom relationship.”
Oh. I’ve never been in this dynamic, but I know I need to make sure I’m a good sub. “Did I really do okay?”
“Baby, you did great.” He pulls me closer. “Did you see how pretty you were? Pure fucking art, Hazel.”
What if he’s lying? “Promise?”
