Billionaire's Captive Complete Trilogy - Stasia Black Page 0,37

leather cuff on the end. I clutch my wrist.

His gaze never leaving mine, he heads to the foot of the bed, leans down, and reveals a second restraint. There’s one at each corner of the bed. He ends up beside me again, unbuckling the leather cuff for my left wrist.

“Submit, Daphne.”

After a deep breath, I do. I could tell myself I have no choice, but it’s not true. I could’ve protested when he announced it was time for my punishment, and he would’ve backed down, tucked me into bed and coddled me like an invalid. It was my curiosity as much as his depravity spurring us forward. I don’t want to stop. I’m in too deep.

I scoot down and lie back. After a pause, I slowly spread my arms and legs. The ultimate submission. That fact that the position makes my pussy throb has nothing to do with it.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, taking my left arm and securing the cuff around my wrist. “Flex your fingers for me?” I do and he strokes the tips. His dark eyes bore into mine and my core clenches. He only has to touch my fingertips to turn me on.

“Too tight?” he asks. I shake my head. His cheek curls—another smile!—and he heads down to cuff my feet.

“You’re being so good, Daphne. You know what that means?”

“What?” My voice is husky. The sound of it surprises me—I’ve turned into a sexpot. I’ve never felt like this before, but this moment is one of many firsts. He’s still dressed like always, but this time, I’m unafraid as he strips me bare. Lying down and letting him restrain me with an excited willingness.

I’ve never been more turned on. My nipples are crinkled peaks, begging for attention.

“It means you get a reward.” He turns and walks away, leaving me helpless and bound. My arms are stretched over my head, my legs able to bend a little but not move much more than that. What is he going to do to me?

When he returns, I’m almost panting, my heart fluttering in the cage of my chest like a captured bird. But my nipples are harder than ever. And my pussy aches…

“Shhhh.” He lays a large hand on my chest, splayed over my breastbone. “Calm, Daphne. I won’t hurt you.” A quirk of his lips, a crooked smile. “At least, not more than you like. Because you like some pain, don’t you?”

“I…don’t know.”

He reaches behind his back and I cringe, expecting an implement of torture. When he shows me what he’s holding, I almost laugh.

“A rose?” The petals are dark red, just beginning to unfurl.

I crane my neck and he brings the bloom to my face. I inhale the scent. This time memory brings me back to the first time I found the rose—on my pillow in my room at Thornhill. It was a week after my mother died. I was eighteen, almost nineteen. My childhood room felt like it belonged to a stranger, the walls, the bed no longer familiar. Everything had changed. I’d stepped over the threshold from girl to woman, and I would never be the same again.

Deja vu. I’m standing at another threshold now.

The Beast uses the rose to trace the contours of my face. Up one cheek, down the other. Over my lips and down my sternum. He trails the rose between my breasts. The petals tease my already peaked nipples.

“I thought this was punishment?” I manage breathily.

“It is. I’m going to teach you not to be so reckless with what belongs to me.” The rose brushes lower, teasing the taut plane below my belly button. When did my skin get so sensitive?

I hold my breath as the rose dips lower.

“One day, Daphne, I will call and you will run to me.” It’s a promise, a threat, a vow.

I shiver and get that sense of deja vu again. Or maybe a premonition.

He grabs a pillow and slides it under my bottom, propping up my hips. Gods, I’m fully on display now, my labia slick and plump.

“You poor thing. So very needy.” He tickles my folds with a forefinger. “Shall your Master make you feel better? Here?”

I whimper.

“Or maybe you want me here.” He probes my entrance gently. I clench my thighs, drawing them together as far as they can go. Which isn’t very far. The Beast smirks at me, teasing my slick hole as my knees tremble, trying to close to keep him out.

A petal breaks from the rosebud. He rubs the bloom over