Chapter 81
Noah
His hand left my back, and for a second the air felt colder. I stood
still, the blindfold snug against my skin, listening for the smallest
shift that meant he was moving again.
“Turn left,” he said, voice low and even.
I obeyed, each step deliberate, my body tuned to every sound, every
faint current of air that might give me a clue. The floor changed
under my feet, from hardwood to rug, and then his fingers grazed my
hip–light, brief, and enough to send heat crawling up my spine.
It wasn’t the usual kind of heat he gave me. This was… different.
Softer. And maybe that’s why I noticed he wasn’t holding me as long
as he could, wasn’t lingering the way I wanted him to. It was
tempting as hell but just out of reach–like he’d drawn a line and was
determined not to cross it.
Fine. I could work with that.
No kissing today? No problem. That didn’t mean it was going to stay
that way.
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I felt him step behind me again, the faint brush of air shifting as he moved. Another command. Another precise touch to adjust me. We’d
been at this long enough for the room to feel warm, my skin
humming with the attention.
When he stepped back this time, I turned my head toward him
without thinking, blindly reaching out until my shoulder brushed his
chest.
His voice sharpened instantly. “What are you doing?”
“I thought-”
“You thought you could touch me without permission?”
I hesitated, grinning a little even though I couldn’t see his reaction.
“You always say I should want to be closer to you.”
“That’s not what I said.” His tone was low and dangerous in a way that made my pulse jump. “This is not about you getting what you want. This is about you learning to give me what I ask for… and
nothing else.”
I shifted my weight, impatient but once more seductive. “I can do
that… I can give you what you want… Sir.”
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“Apparently not,” he said, moving away from me. I caught the faint jingle of keys and the creak of the basement door. “If you could, you wouldn’t have just tried to push for more.”
“What are we doing?” I asked, following the sound of his footsteps.
“An exercise in full trust,” he said. “One you won’t forget.”
**
The basement was cooler than upstairs, the faint hum of the
dehumidifier in the corner blending with the low music Aiden had
left playing. I couldn’t see much under the blindfold, but I could
smell leather, faintly metallic chains, and the faint spice of his
cologne clinging to the air.
“On the table,” he said, guiding me, voice even. Not sharp. That was
almost worse. I held back the urge to grab onto him for comfort, for
that safety he always made me feel no matter where we were.
I lay where he told me, the padded surface cool against my bare back.
Without another word, he buckled cuffs around my wrists and ankles,
securing me to each corner until my body was stretched open
in a
star. My arms ached slightly from the angle, my legs wide, completely
exposed.
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“This isn’t a game, Noah,” he said quietly. “It’s an exercise in trust.
You give it, or you don’t. There’s no in–between.”
He tightened the blindfold, sealing out even the faintest trace of
light. The darkness was instant and absolute, and my breathing
quickened before I could stop it–because not seeing meant not
anticipating.
I heard him move away. I waited for the soft jingle of a chain, the
click of a drawer, or the brush of fingers on my skin. Nothing. Just his
footsteps fading.
At first, I stayed relaxed. Or as relaxed as you can be, naked and tied
up in your Dom’s basement. Despite the edge of unease coiling in my
gut–born from the dark, the blindfold, and the walls I knew were
close around me–I was almost giddy with anticipation. Sexual
stimulation? Teasing? Hell, even the crack of a spanking would’ve
been welcome right now. Anything that meant he was still there,
watching, planning what he’d do to me next.
I listened to the faint bass line of the music, imagined his hand on
me, the edge of a smirk when I reacted. Minutes passed….
Then I thought I heard the door open and close.
He’s left. He’s testing me. Wants to see if I’ll freak out.
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I won’t.
Time blurred. My muscles loosened. I almost drifted off, letting the
music wash over me.
The door again. This time, a smell slipped into the air–clean, crisp,
like the faint incense from the tiny chapel my grandmother used to
drag me to. It didn’t belong here. It made my skin prickle.
Nothing happened. No touch. No voice.
What if it wasn’t him doing it? What if it was some automatic spray
to give me the illusion he was still around? My pulse sped up, a hot
knot forming low in my stomach. I couldn’t hear movement, but I
could feel someone. Or thought I could.
An hour? Two? All day? I had no idea. My mouth felt dry, my
shoulders sore. I wanted to move, but the cuffs held me tight, leather
digging against my skin. Every bruise and scrape from the week’s
practices and his punishments seemed to flare up against the table’s
thin padding.
Why was he doing this? I hadn’t done anything wrong. Unless this was his way of reminding me he was in control even when he gave me some of it. Or… maybe he thought I hadn’t given him enough.
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The need to speak swelled up in my chest. But asking for help would
feel like failure. Like I didn’t trust him.
And wasn’t that the point?
God, I had to pee. And the second I thought it, every other bodily
need I could possibly have seemed to hit at once–heat, thirst, the
strain in my limbs, the ache in my jaw from clenching.
I gritted my teeth. Relax, and you’ll pass whatever this is. Relax.
I couldn’t.
“Aiden…” My voice cracked. “Sir… Are you there?”
Silence.
“Sir–please…”
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
