Page 129 of Dance of Devils

“Remember your safe word, little sinner.”

My breath catches as he wraps a strip of what feels like leather around my wrist and buckles it tight. He slowly walks around the bed to the other side, doing the same to the other wrist. I tremble when I hear what sounds like a small length of metalchain being fastened to each cuff.

Heat ripples down my spine.

He moves to the foot of the bed and runs a finger down one leg, teasing it down the back of my thigh, over my calf, then sliding it to my ankle.

“Spread your legs, little sinner.”

My face is throbbing, my body almost spasming with flickers of anxiety and anticipation. I do as he says, parting my knees, feeling my body heat as I sense his eyes sliding over my ass and my pussy.

“Remember that safe word,” he growls quietly.

Another cuff goes around my ankle. There’s something heavy attached to this one. He fastens the cuff, then moves around to the other ankle, buckling a leather strap around that one, too. I shift, but stiffen when I realizeI can’t.

“It’s called a spreader bar,” Kir murmurs, his voice like leather and smoke. “You’ll be able to open your legs…like this…”

He wraps his fingers around one of my thighs and opens my legs a little more. There’s a dull metallicclunk, like a lock ratcheting into place.

“But you won’t be able to close them.”

I try to do so, and more heat surges through me. The heavy bar attached to the ankle cuffs is indeed keeping my legs spread apart.

Wordlessly, Kir moves back up the side of the bed and takes one of my hands. He pulls it back, tugging my wrist down to my ankle with the cuff wrapped around it. With another soft metalclick, that arm is instantly immobilized.

He’s just chained my wrist to my ankle.

He does the same on the other side, and suddenly, I’m on my knees on the bed, cheek against the duvet, ass in the air, my wrists bound to my ankles.

Pure heat explodes through me. I feels so unnervingly exposed and trapped. But there’s no fear or panic, like I’d have expected. Just simmering, achingneed.

My skin breaks into gooseflesh, my nipples tight points against the bed.

I bite my lip when something that feels like silky rope brushes my wrist. Kir loops it through what must be a metal ring attached to the wrist cuff and then pulls it tight, tying that side of my body to…what, another ring set in the side of the bed? He does the same thing to the other wrist, and I gasp when I feel the spreader bar notch open a bit more and then lock in place.

My pulse roars as I try to imagine what I look like: on my knees, cheek to the bed, my wrists pulled back and cuffed to my ankles;the spreader bar keeping my legs immobilized; and ropes tying my wrists to the sides of the bed. I'm utterly bound in place.

A low whine rings in my ears as my body flexes against the binds, heat teasing over my skin as I try to stop my breath from racing out of control.

With some of the things that have happened to me in the past, or more recently with Lou, this should be the world’s biggest trigger. But Kir’s words drift through my psyche, calming me even as my heart pounds.

Even though I’m the one tying you up and dominating you, you are in control here, Brooklyn. You set the boundaries, and you decide when you’ve had enough.

I hear him pause, and anticipation settles over me in the silence.

“How do you feel,” he murmurs.

“Pinned,” I whisper, my voice shaking. “But not in a bad way.”

Quite the opposite. The feeling of my arms and legs being restrained sends a shiver of heat through me. It’s like the removal of my control has me melting against the bed, eager for him to take it over.

Not just because he’s hot and makes my heart skip whenever I see him, but because I trust him—possibly more than I’ve ever trusted anyone in my life.

My pulse races when I hear him taking off his clothes—fabric hitting the floor, his belt clinking. It suddenly hits me that I’ve never actually seen himnaked.Parts of him, of course…largeparts of him. But never completely without clothes.

I bite my lip, imagining what those hard, grooved muscles will look like, willfeellike. The bed shifts as he moves onto it behind me, and my breath catches when a low growl rumbles in his throat.

“You look so beautiful,” he murmurs, trailing a finger down my hip. “All trussed up and spread open for me.”