Exposed Exposed (Dom Nation #1) - E. Davies Page 0,83
of my desires: harsh and real, far too raw to plunge straight into. This agonized ecstasy was what I craved. I lapped at it like life force to a vampire.
And I hadn’t realized until this moment that I was starving.
Every instinct in my body wanted to take, claim, and hunt. But I stopped, digging my heels into the floor like that would help me rock away from him. It didn’t, but it grounded me.
This was the moment. The real test of whether we, as a together-We and not just a Daddy and boy coming together, would work. Long term. Maybe forever. Because I couldn’t live without this, as twisted as it was, and if Slate couldn’t take it…
This was the moment where some Doms—terrible Doms, shithead abusers like Isaac—would simply never ask, so they never had to hear an inconvenient answer. But I’d sooner throw myself off this building here and now than be that man.
So I steeled every ounce of courage and resolve I had, fear bubbling as hot as lava in my throat and blooming across my cheeks, stinging in the corners of my eyes. “Red? Yellow? Green? Pineapple?” After all, I couldn’t trust that he remembered his safeword right now.
It took Slate a moment to stop panting for breath, gulp, put together his voice again. It might as well have been a century, every millisecond a painful reminder that what I needed was not normal, and for some—for many—it would be going too far…
But Slate’s response, despite the hazy and broken way syllables slipped from his mouth, was clear. “Greener than your eyes.”
A big, fluttery, stupid grin crossed my face. My grip on his arm loosened for just a second. He knows the color of my eyes without even looking at me, I thought, and I let myself gulp for fresh air to quell the wildfire in my chest. Except, of course, that wasn’t how fire worked.
It danced to life, spreading to the very top of my head and the tips of my toes, until I was full of a restless, quivering joy. Relief—pure relief, sweeping through my tense muscles with strangely agonizing speed.
This would work. We would work.
I gulped hard and shook my head. Slate needed me on the top of my game. Giddy, gooey, romantic Rex—a character I’d never met—couldn’t possibly bring that. So all of that would have to wait until later. Preferably much later, when nobody could hear or see the vulnerability of this moment of joy.
“Please,” Slate begged, and it was just what I needed to sharpen my focus again. Then he struggled, just a little bit, against my grip. Trying to pull his wrist free so he could wrestle me. “No, Daddy.” But his voice was light and wry—playful despite the ferocity of my rage raking his bare skin.
Fuck. My worries dissolved, and I was Master X again. My boy was strong as iron, and he needed me to be even stronger.
So I shoved back against him, overpowering him with simple physics. Hauling him up the bed, one limb at a time, until he was flat on his front and splayed like a starfish, and I crouched over him all hungry and raw.
I bit back my irritation once again at the gentleness with which Slate pushed back against me. I wasn’t the breakable one here. My boy really had a lot to learn about me.
I reached under the pillows, yanking out the handcuffs I’d left hanging around one bar of the headboard, down the back of the bed and under the pillows. Almost invisible, yet ready for just such a moment.
These were well made, to say the least. If he wouldn’t fight back against me, let him try his strength on them.
Slate gasped sharply and went still. “What? No, please…!”
I grinned. It gave me enough time to work unhindered, threading the leather through the buckle of one cuff and fastening the catch. He’d come to his senses by the time I grabbed his other wrist, but it was easy to bend his arm just the right way that he couldn’t resist. I fastened up the other cuff and checked that the chain was still threaded around the bar of the headboard. “Yes, boy?”
“B-Bu-Th-Wh—” Slate stuttered and then whimpered. His wrists were bound by a six-inch chain, however hard he pulled at them. He twisted, trying to see me. “I-You just…!”
“Yes,” I told him, shoving his face back into the pillows. That went some way to teaching him that lesson. “I did.”