Chapter 99
Noah
I couldn’t, for the life of me, figure out what had possessed me to
agree to this outfit. A ridiculous leather… what did he even call it? A
g–string? Cock pouch? Whatever the hell it was, it should’ve come with a warning label that said, “Guaranteed to humiliate the wearer; may also cut off circulation if improperly adjusted.” Add the collar strapped tight around my throat, and I was suddenly one of those
little dogs people dressed up and paraded around–except this
particular owner wasn’t the type to coddle.
I’d opened my mouth to complain-again–only to be met with another strike, bringing my running total into a range that made me
question whether I’d live to see tomorrow. When he handed me a
long black trench coat as the only thing to wear over the damn pouch, I almost laughed out loud. All I could picture was that old cartoon of the creepy flasher who opened his coat to traumatize unsuspecting girls on the street. That was me now. Some pervert in a collar and
cock pouch, hiding under a trench coat like I was on my way to a
police lineup.
After that, I decided it was safer to shut the hell up. One more strike
and he probably would’ve told me to go without the coat entirely, and
my dignity was hanging on by a thread–literally. So, I buttoned up,
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Chapter 99
kept my mouth shut, and tried not to trip over my own shame.
The drive took about forty–five minutes, and the silence was worse
than the outfit. My brain did what it always did when left
unsupervised: spiraled into a string of bad jokes and even worse
scenarios. I glanced out the window as the city rolled,by, the lights
shifting from familiar to wealthier districts I never had business in.
River Oaks? Galleria? Hell, maybe even one of those fancy glass
warehouses downtown disguised as something boring like “storage.”
Wherever we ended up, it was clear Aiden wasn’t taking me to Olive
Garden.
When he finally pulled into a gated property–huge, secluded, with
stone walls that practically screamed, “You don’t belong here“-my
stomach did a backflip. He entered some kind of code, and the gates
opened with a slow, mechanical groan that sounded way too much
like a villain’s lair for comfort.
I followed him down into an underground entrance, my boots clicking
on the ramp, the air growing cooler, heavier. My nerves caught up
quick, and the sarcasm came with them.
Okay, Noah, this is officially the part in the movie where you start yelling
at the dumb teenagers not to go into the creepy basement in the dark
after hearing a strange noise. Well… congratulations. You are the dumb
teenager. And yes, this is the creepy basement. Also dark. Also
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Chapter 99
suspicious. Great job, man. This is your chance to run. Except… nope.
You’re leashed to your own bad decisions and that gorgeous bastard
leading the way.
The doors ahead opened into a smaller reception area. Sleek.
Minimal. A desk. Two attendants who looked like they were born in
black suits. Aiden stepped forward with all the confidence in the
world, gave his invitation code, and we were instructed to wait a
moment while they checked it.
Then came the words I dreaded: “You may remove your coats.”
Aiden unbuttoned his trench and shrugged it off, smooth as if he’d
been waiting his whole life for this moment. He gleamed leather and silver and silk, looking every inch the dark prince he thought he was.
Me? I froze. Coat still firmly buttoned, heat creeping up my neck. “No
thanks,” I blurted before I even thought about it.
The attendant blinked. Aiden didn’t. He just turned his head slowly,
that killer glare locking onto me, a look that promised the number of
strikes I had tonight might soon require a calculator.
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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.
