Page 106 of Dark Billionaire Stalker
"I said stand up."
A moment of hesitation. Then she sets the book aside and rises, her movements uncertain. She's wearing a simple dress—soft fabric, easy to remove—and her feet are bare against the hardwood floor.
"Gabriel, what—"
"Don't talk." I close the remaining distance between us, stopping close enough to feel the heat of her body. "I don't want words right now. I want you."
Her breath catches. I see the pulse jump in her throat, the way her pupils dilate despite herself. Whatever secrets she's keeping, her body still responds to me. That, at least, hasn't changed.
I thread my fingers through her hair and pull, tilting her head back, exposing the long line of her throat. She gasps but doesn't resist.
"You've been keeping things from me," I murmur against her ear. "I can feel it. I can smell it on you."
"I don't know what you're—"
"I said don't talk." I tighten my grip, just enough to make her wince. "You're going to listen. You're going to do exactly what I tell you. And by the end of tonight, you're going to remember who you belong to."
I don't give her a chance to respond. I kiss her—hard, demanding, my tongue claiming her mouth the way I intend to claim the rest of her. She moans against my lips, her hands coming up to grip my shoulders, her body melting into mine despite whatever resistance her mind might be mounting.
This. This is what I need. This is the only truth I know how to speak.
I pull back just long enough to see her face—flushed, dazed, her lips already swollen from my kiss. Then I grab her hand and drag her from the library, down the corridor, toward the bedroom.
She stumbles to keep up, her bare feet slapping against the floor. "Gabriel, wait—"
"No waiting." I push open the bedroom door and pull her inside, kicking it shut behind us. "I've been waiting for days. Watching you retreat into yourself, watching you hide from me. I'm done waiting."
I release her hand and move to the bureau where I keep certain items—things I've collected over the years, tools for the kind of pleasure that lives in shadows. I pull out a length of black silk, soft but strong, and turn to face her.
Her eyes widen when she sees what I'm holding. "Gabriel..."
"Take off your dress."
Her hands tremble as she reaches for the hem. She pulls the fabric over her head in one smooth motion, letting it fall tothe floor. Underneath, she's wearing simple cotton underwear—white, innocent, a stark contrast to what I'm about to do to her.
"All of it."
She unhooks her bra, lets it drop. Slides her underwear down her legs and steps out of them. Then she stands before me, naked and vulnerable, waiting for whatever comes next.
I take my time looking at her. The curve of her breasts, fuller than they were when we started this—or is that my imagination? The dip of her waist, the flare of her hips, the dark triangle of hair between her thighs. She's beautiful. She's always been beautiful. But there's something different about her now, something I can't quite identify.
"On the bed. Lie down on your back."
She complies, climbing onto the mattress and stretching out, her dark hair fanning across the pillows. Her eyes never leave mine.
I approach slowly, the silk trailing from my fingers. When I reach the bed, I lean down and capture her wrist, lifting it toward the headboard.
"I'm going to tie you up," I tell her, my voice low. "Both hands. You won't be able to move, won't be able to touch yourself or me. All you'll be able to do is feel."
Her breath hitches. "Okay."
I secure her wrist to the headboard, wrapping the silk around the iron bars, testing the knot to make sure it's firm but won't cut off circulation. Then I move to her other wrist and repeat the process.
When I'm done, she's spread before me like an offering—arms stretched above her head, body open and exposed. The sight makes my cock throb painfully against my trousers.
But I'm not done yet.
I return to the bureau and retrieve another item: a blindfold, the same black silk as the restraints. When she sees it, her breath quickens.
