Then with another tug and his chest surrounded by black knots, the air leaves his lungs in a satisfied exhalation. He submits to the binding with a lazy sublime look on his face.
When I’ve finished, Drake appears almost sleepy, and I notice my binds are tighter than Silla’s. I step back and stand next to Isabel as we assess my work.
“It looks so good,” she mutters quietly.
It does. It looks so fucking good.
“Someone gonna untie me?” Drake asks after a moment, and I shake myself out of the hypnosis I’m suddenly under. What the fuck has gotten into me?
“I should leave you like that,” I grumble before walking away. I don’t have the patience to try and keep calm right now, and as badly as I want to tell him what a jerk he is for flirting with Silla right in front of us, I have no place telling Drake what to do. I know that, and yet…I want to. I want to dominate him, and that’s a new feeling I’m not quite sure what to do with at this point.
With a laugh, he calls after me. “What did I do?” But I don’t answer. I leave Isabel to untie him while I head to the bar for a drink.
Rule #15: Strangers are great people to confide in.
Drake
I wish Hunter would just say what’s on his mind. He’s always been like this, sulking and brooding in silence until he just walks away, without ever really expressing himself. It makes me want to push his buttons, which is exactly what I’m doing now. I know what’s got him so pissed off, but if he’s not going to talk about it like an adult, then I’m going to make him suffer for it.
“I should go check on him,” Isabel says after we’ve pulled off all of my ropes and piled them on the table. I pull up my pants, but leave my shirt off for a moment. My skin is still feeling a little sensitive from the rope, and I’m fighting the urge to itch.
“I’ll meet you over there,” I reply. She sends me a tense smile before disappearing into the next room, where the bar is. This club is pretty similar to Salacious. There’s a main room, lots of smaller rooms, and a large one at the end, where they must hold their workshops and shows. It’s making me brainstorm ways we can add a space like this to our club.
I turned the main room into a giant voyeur hallway, so I could easily manage this.
“Oh, look at your rope marks. They’re beautiful.” Soft hands graze my arms and I turn to find Silla inspecting my skin like it’s a piece of art.
“Thanks?” I say with a question.
“Not all skin marks the same from the ropes, but yours turned out perfect. Let me show you.” She pulls out her phone and aims it at my back. When the flash goes off, she lets out a disgruntled noise. “The lighting in here is terrible. Here, come with me. I’ll take you to a room with better lighting, so you can see it.”
“My friends—"
“It’ll just take a second. I need to get a good picture before they fade.”
Letting out a sigh, I take one last glance toward the door before following her. My fingers run over the divots in my arms, where the rope was squeezing tightly against my muscles. It was painful, but in a strangely satisfying way. I almost wanted them tighter. I liked feeling restrained and at Hunter’s mercy. I loved being the center of his attention and so connected to every one of his movements that I could just lose myself in the rope in his hands.
“So, was that couple your…”
“My friends,” I reply, answering her question because I know exactly what she’s asking. Pretty funny that no one has asked that before. We’re always together, and I guess we do sort of look like a throuple. I’m realizing now that a lot of people at the club probably assume we are.
“Oh,” Silla replies with a smile. “They’re a beautiful couple.”
“Yeah, they are.”
“Here we go,” she says when we reach the third door in the dark hallway. It opens to a dim room, and she hits one of the lights on the wall. It’s not exactly bright, definitely no brighter than the other room. It’s ornately decorated with a large bed on one side and a sizeable chair on the other, almost as if it’s made for watching. And there are mirrors along each wall, ornate ones with elaborate brass designs.
“Come here,” she says, dragging me to the wall. As she places my back toward the mirror, she pulls out her phone again, and this time takes a pic without the flash. “Perfect,” she whispers. Holding her phone up to my face, I see the intricate designs across my back from the rope, but I’m not nearly as impressed by it as she is.