Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 120475 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 602(@200wpm)___ 482(@250wpm)___ 402(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120475 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 602(@200wpm)___ 482(@250wpm)___ 402(@300wpm)
Nope. No. Absolutely not. That way lies madness.
I shift again, pressing my thighs together in desperation, but the belt mocks me. My body is soaked, needy, screaming for something I can’t have.
“Moira.” Bane’s voice is a warning.
I snap my head up and glare at him. “I can’t help it. I’m losing my goddamn mind down here.”
He pauses, his pen hovering above the page, and finally—finally—he looks at me. Those storm-gray eyes are infuriatingly calm. “That’s the point.”
“The point?” I sputter. “The point of what? TORTURING ME?”
“The point of teaching you patience.”
I scoff so hard I nearly choke. “I have patience! I’ve been sitting here for forever while you scribble away about god knows what—”
“About God, actually,” he says, his lips quirking.
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
I growl and rock forward slightly, chasing even a whisper of relief. The belt presses against me—too much and not enough—and my hips jerk involuntarily.
Bane’s chair scrapes against the floor as he stands and looks down with that infuriating calm control. “If you can’t control yourself, I’ll do it for you.”
My breath catches. Oh.
Oh, I like that.
My heart pounds as he hauls me up and leads me to the bed. My body is screaming yes, finally, please, but instead of pushing me down and giving me what I need, he sits me on the edge and holds my shoulders firmly in place.
“Stay.”
I stare up at him, vibrating with frustration. “What are you going to do?”
He doesn’t answer. He just walks to the chest at the foot of the bed, pulls out a length of silk rope, and turns back to me, his expression utterly composed.
I swallow hard. Oh, fuck.
“You brought this on yourself,” he says, taking my wrist in his strong, steady hand.
“You’re tying me up? Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“No!” I fight against him, but he easily subdues me, grabbing both wrists and pinning them to the bed, his chest holding my body down. We’re both breathing hard even though we barely wrestled. I struggle against his hold as his dark eyes skewer me.
“Do I hear a safeword?” he asks, chest heaving against mine.
My lips clamp together as I search his eyes. I feel a wild elation suddenly as I realize…
Oh shit, I feel safe. Even as he holds me down and subdues me with his superior strength.
There’s no background thrum of fear like there is with random men I fuck outside the club. Like there was with that pissant, Jeff.
But I’m also not feeling that sense of bored safety I usually do within the club because I know bouncers are near if a guy steps out of line.
I feel safe because of Bane himself.
Well, fuck. Is this what trust feels like?
He’ll stop if I safeword. There’s not a bone in my body that doubts it.
“You fucking bastard!” I scream again, but only because it feels good to fight like hell as he smiles down at me, working quickly to secure my wrists to the headboard with practiced ease.
The silk is soft against my skin, but the restraint is firm. Unyielding.
My heart races as I tug against the bindings, testing their strength.
“There,” he says, standing back to admire his handiwork. “Now you can’t get yourself into trouble.”
I glare up at him, my chest heaving with emotions I don’t understand.
I’m giddy and furious and wildly excited. And I really, really want to be fucking Bane right now instead of being tied up, helpless, on his bed.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
His lips curve into a slow, dangerous smile. “Immensely.”
“You’re the devil,” I spit.
“And you’re beautiful when you’re helpless,” he replies, his voice soft but deadly. He leans down, his face inches from mine, and I hold my breath. “You’ll thank me for this one day, Moira. When you finally understand.”
“I hate you,” I whisper, even as my body burns for him.
“No, you don’t,” he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “But keep telling yourself that if it helps.”
Oh, I am so fucked.
FOURTEEN
BANE
The afternoon sun filters through the curtains, casting soft, golden light across Moira’s skin where she lies on my bed. Her wrists are still bound to the headboard, her body humming with defiance even in stillness. She is a study in contradictions—soft yet unbreakable, restrained yet entirely untamed.
My pen rests against the pages of my sermon, the ink flowing easier than it has in weeks. There is clarity in domination, in the simple purity of control. And yet, Moira—
Moira is an anomaly.
She watches me now, dark green eyes flicking toward mine before darting away. There is no pretense with her. No coy games. Everything about her is raw and unfiltered.
And that, more than anything, is why I can’t stay away.
She isn’t like the women from my past. I’ve known too many who smiled at me with hungry eyes but cared nothing for the man beneath the wealth and power. They wanted the Blackwolf name, fortune, and proximity to power. My cruelty turned them on only because it meant access.