Skye lay motionless.
Sweat glistened across her skin. Her thighs were trembling. Her lips were parted, dry from panting, her n*****s raw and hard from overstimulation. Her wrists were red where the rope had dug into her skin.
And still…Xavier wasn’t done.
He stood at the foot of the bed, eyes raking over her destroyed body like a man deciding what piece to taste next.
Then, slowly, methodically, he turned to the drawer.
Opened it.
Pulled out a black leather harness.
And something else.
A steel bar with ankle cuffs on either end.
Her breath caught.
A spreader bar.
He walked back toward her. Dark. Silent. Dangerous.
“Get up,” he commanded.
Her limbs were jelly.
She tried.
Fell.
He caught her by the throat. Not choking. Just holding.
“You don’t move until I say. You don’t bli
