CHAPTER 058: The yroom


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    ~~SLOANE


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    22


    My hands are wrapped around Knox''s neck as he leads me back into the house.


    I''m clinging to him with trembling legs. My skin is damp from everything he just did to me outside. I don''t know how I''m even conscious right now. My body feels wrung out, like someone twisted every drop of strength out of me and still left me


    wanting more.


    He only pauses once, just inside the door. He leans forward, reaches down, and slides off his house slippers with the same precision he used yesterday when we came in through the other door. Neatly. One foot, then the other. Perfectly lined beside the door.


    And I just... watch. Not because it matters. But because I can''t figure him out.


    I''ve seen him walk into other ces without blinking. His parents'' house. My apartment. A hotel room. He never gave a damn where he tossed his shoes. But here? In his own home, he does this.


    Why?


    Not like he''ll answer.


    If I had to put pennies in a jar for everything I couldn''t exin about Knox Hartley, I''d need a goddamn barrel. He doesn''t like talking about himself.


    Whatever his history is, it definitely includes learning how to give the kind of head that makes a woman see stars. My thighs are still shaking. My mind''s still spinning. I''ve nevere so hard in my life.


    He walks us past the living room and then up the stairs. The hallway is dim, lit only by low recessed wall lights that cast soft shadows on the hardwood floor. The master bedroom is on the right.


    But he passes it.


    My brows knit. "Where are we going?"


    "Somewhere interesting."


    The hell does that mean?


    I don''t ask. I just tighten my grip around his neck and try not to overthink the fact that I''mpletely at the mercy of this man I know so little about.


    He stops in front of a door at the far end of the hallway. His hand shifts beneath my legs, supporting me with one arm while the other reaches toward a ck keypad near the doorknob.


    A keypad?


    "Please tell me you''re not about to take me to where you keep your guns or drug stash,” I say. “That would make me an aplice if you ever get arrested.”


    He chuckles low in his throat. "You''d make a fine prisoner, don''t you think?"


    "Is that your n? To lock me up?"


    His breath ghosts the side of my neck. "Don''t give me ideas, Bunny. Nothing


    would please me more than to know you''re exactly where I want you, whenever I want you."


    Something in me stutters.


    A tiny shiver.


    Equal parts fear and desire.


    Before I can think of a smart response, he sets me down. My legs wobble but hold. I adjust the hem of the shirt instinctively, like it offers any real protection.


    He keys in some digits so fast that the only number I catch is 8. The door clicks open.


    It''s pitch dark inside.


    Before I can ask questions, he pulls me into th


    Sessfully unlocked!


    ind us.


    My heart taps against my ribs. "Um..."


    He reaches past me and flicks a switch on the wall.


    Light spills into the room. If you can call it that.


    CHAPTER OS8 The yroom


    It''s not bright. It''s red.


    Deep, sultry red that washes over everything.


    I don''t realize I''m holding my breath until I feel him behind me.


    He slides my sses gently back onto my face, and now I can see everything a lot clearer.


    He stays there, one hand snaking around my waist and pulling me flush against him. I feel every hard inch of him. His mouth dips to my ear.


    "Wee to my yroom," he whispers.


    I swallow hard.


    yroom is a mild word for what''s before me.


    Now that my eyes are adjusted to the dimness of the room, what I see makes blood rush to my face.


    There''s a massive four-poster bed on one side-except the bed isn''t just a bed. There''s a thick metal bar hanging across the footboard, almost like a guillotine with extra spaces for caging two hands alongside your head. Beneath it is a cage. Like, an actual cage.


    Not decorative. Not metaphorical. A cage with iron bars and atch.


    To the left, a long padded bench sits beneath mounted metal rings. Its purpose is far too obvious, the spanking bench. Chains hang from the ceiling. Leather straps. Padded cuffs. Paddles of varying thickness line the far wall beside something that looks suspiciously like a crucifix. An X-shaped frame. A cross. I don''t know.


    I''m walking forward before I realize it, unhooking myself from Knox''s grip.


    My fingers skim the bench as I pass. The leather is cool, slick to the touch. There are buckles at each corner.


    "This is a yroom?" I finally manage.


    "Beautiful, isn''t it?"


    His voice is amused, soft behind me.


    Beautiful is not the word I''d use.


    Terrifying. Yes.


    Overwhelming. Yes.


    Sexy in an ''I might die here, but what a way to go'' sort of way? Absolutely.


    I walk further in. The walls are covered in shelves-rows and rows of toys in shapes and sizes I didn''t even know existed. Some are curved. Some straight. Some shaped like animals. Some as thick as my wrist.


    I pick one up. A dildo the size of my forearm. Veined. Ridged near the base.


    I turn around, holding it up like a sword. "Do you use all of these?"


    He leans casually against a pir near the cross, arms folded. "Not exactly. This


    room contains a sample of every product mypany has designed and produced."


    "The toypany?"


    He nods.


    "And what exactly do you do here?" My heart''s pounding. "You test them out?


    Like... personally?"


    "What do you think?"


    I raise the monster in my hand. "Is this even practical? Where exactly in the body


    would it go?"


    Hisugh is low and deep. "You''d be surprised what your body can take."


    He stares at me for a short while, and I can see the amusement on his face


    changing into something darker, something


    dangerous. And then he moves,ing for me.


    口


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