I throw her onto my bed as we enter my room, the soft mattress barely cushioning her fall. She stares up at me, sleep still lingering in her pretty blue eyes, confusion swimming within their depths like lost ships in a stormy sea.
"Did I do something wrong? You look angry," she asks, her voice barely above a whisper as she studies me. I can't help but smile, a mixture of amusement and dark anticipation curling my lips. This f*****g woman couldn't surprise me more. Even in the dim moonlight filtering through the curtains, she reads my emotions like an open book.
“You did,” I reply, my voice steady as I pull out the blindfold, crop whip, and ropes from the drawer. The soft rustle of the materials fills the room, contrasting with the tension that hangs in the air. I’m taking it slow tonight
