One second I was lying in the middle of his bed, naked, dazed, still sore from everything he did to me last night. The next, I felt the cold touch of leather snapping tight around my wrist.
“What the hell—?” I gasped, trying to sit up, but he shoved me back down with one hand, strong and firm against my chest.
“I’m not asking tonight,” he said lowly. “I’m taking.”
My heart slammed in my chest. His voice was darker than usual—like something in him had snapped. My other wrist was strapped down before I could blink. Then my ankles, spread wide. I was fully exposed. Helpless.
“You wanted to act like a brat this morning,” he muttered, pulling something from a drawer beside the bed. “So now I’m going to remind you who you belong to.”
He climbed up between my thighs and dropped a small silve
