Page 92 of Sovereign

“I feel like you are not a good man, Sovereign,” she says. “And I shouldn’t want you.”

My mouth turns up. “But you do.”

“I do,” she whispers.

That’s all I need to hear. I pull out the leather play collar next. Her eyes widen as I unfurl the rows of bluebells engraved and polished into the dark leather. The edges are smoothed and the inside is soft fabric so it doesn’t irritate her skin.

I fit it around her throat, over the discreet collar, with the soft inner lining against her skin. She shivers and her eyes widen. It’s engraved and sealed so it looks like glossed wood. In the front is the Sovereign Mountain Ranch insignia and at the nape of her neck are my initials in gunmetal gray.

A little tag hangs between her collarbones. I tap it and it jingles.

“What is that?” she asks.

“Name tag.”

“What does it say?” Her gaze is wary.

“Sovereign. I want my whore wearing my name.”

Heat floods her face and she tugs the metal tag. “Is that how you think of me?”

“When you’re on your knees with my cock down your throat, yes.”

I’m trying to keep things light. But seeing her in my collars is pushing me to the point she was at when she said she was falling for me.

Feelings aren’t my strong suit. I know how I feel for her, but I’m not good at saying those words aloud.

So I swallow past the lump in my throat. And take her own words.

My hands come up, cradling her face. Her eyes are huge.

“Maybe…I’m falling for you,” I say.

Her lips part and her breath catches. Her lashes flutter and I know tears simmer right on the edge.

“Really?” she whispers.

I open my mouth to tell her more, but I find I don’t have the words to describe what I’m trying to say. She doesn’t know everything I’ve done to get her, and when she finds out, she’ll know just how obsessed I am.

But for right now, I just kiss her. So hard I swear I feel her heart beating in my mouth.

When I pull away, she’s flustered. She pushes her hair back.

“That’s it?” she asks.

“That’s it, redbird,” I say. “For now.”

I put her on her feet and slap her ass hard enough the recoil shivers down her thighs. She gives a little huff, but when I swipe my finger over the seam of her pussy, it’s soaked.

She makes eggs, naked except for both my collars. I wash up and sit at the table to soak in the view. She’s so fucking beautiful it feels like a physical ache in my chest just looking at her.

Every little dip, every curve, every soft line, every dimple in her thigh—a work of art.

I could spend my lifetime tracing the lines of her body with my tongue and never get tired.

We eat and then we fuck. In the loft, the bed thudding against the wall so hard it leaves a dent in the wood. I wrap my belt around her wrists and bind her to the headboard. Her hips barely touch the bed while I eat her out until she comes over and over. The sheets are soaked after the fifth orgasm.

“Stop,” she begs, trying to kick me off her. “Fuck you, Sovereign, I need a break.”

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