Page 10 of Fall For Me
“Eyes on me,” he demands, and my eyes fly open, locking with his. “Good girl. Now, answer me.”
His tone, the way he commands, reminds me so much of Sean. I came to get over him, but maybe this is what I need—to pretend someone else is him. Yeah, like an ointment to soothe a burn.
“Both.”
“Good. A lot of eyes will be on you tonight.”
Stepping back, he turns and guides me through a dark hallway, then stops to scan his card again. Holding another door open, he allows me to pass. Low amber lights glow from recessed strips along the ceiling, not bright enough to see much of anything, but enough to make out the bed in the center of the room and the objects hanging from brass hooks next to me.
Ropes. Leather cuffs. Silk restraints. From another polished rack hang floggers, paddles, and crops. The room spins around me, and I sway. Placing my hand on the wall to keep myself from falling, my fingers graze the silk restraint.
Ooh. That’s nice.
He steps behind me, plucking it off the hook, and I realize I must’ve said that out loud.
“You like this one?”
“It’s pretty,” I say, swallowing the lump in my throat.
The red silk glides along my skin, and as he begins to bind my wrists, apprehension and guilt stirs in my gut. I feel as though I’m doing something wrong even though I’m at liberty to do whatever the hell I want.
“I don’t touch what doesn’t belong to me,” he says in a smooth, velvety voice, pulling the silk tighter against my wrists. “And you, sweet Hannah, most certainly donotbelong to me.”
“I don’t belong to anyone,” I argue.
“Oh, but you do. Which means you shouldn’t be here.”
What the hell?
“You need to learn a lesson, and as it so happens, degradation is a kink of mine.”
I’m too damn drunk to figure out what the hell he’s talking about right now.
“Sometimes when we’re drunk, we do reckless things. Things we later regret. You don’t want to regret anything, do you?”
“N-No.”
“No, what?”
“No, sir.”
“Good girl.”
He strokes my head, and I close my eyes, imagining Sean’s commanding voice in my ear. The way his eyes hold me captive. The feel of his hands on my body. My throat tightens along with my chest, and my eyes sting, but I suppress the emotion and fight back the tears.
“You’re going to walk back to the bar, call someone to pick you up, and until they arrive, you’ll sit there with your wrists bound.” He lifts my chin with his fingertips, his eyes locking with mine. “I’m going to enjoy watching you squirm on that barstool, feeling every set of eyes on you . . . shaming you for trying to fuck someone you shouldn’t. Do you understand?”
“Fuck someone I shouldn’t? You make money from people fucking. I am people. I want to fuck.”
“No.”
“Nate, for one night, just one damn night?—”
“No.”
“No? Then unbind me and I’ll find someone else who will,” I argue, holding out my wrists. “Take this off. Now.”
He lifts one brow. “There’s not a single soul in my club that will touch you without my permission. I’m not in the business of fucking over my friends, and as far as I’m concerned, you still belong to Sean. Now you will go out there and do as I say or I will call him myself to pick you up, do you understand?”
