Page 98 of Bratva Menace

“Something that is off-limits to you?”

“Fuck no. You want to fuck me in the ass, I’m all for it.”

She laughed. Deep and throaty and utterly tantalizing. “We’ll have to work our way up to that. You won’t be ready to take some of my bigger toys.”

A thought barreled its way into my head. It was born of pure jealousy. “Have you fucked other guys in the ass?”

“Baby,” she cooed, voice soft. “Are you jealous?”

“That depends. Have you?”

“I have.”

I knew it was irrational. What we did with other partners before we met had nothing to do with us. But I couldn’t help it. I wanted to be her fucking first. I did nothing but grunt in response.

“Don’t be jealous, baby. You know you’re my one and only.”

“I better fucking be,” I grumbled back.

Soft lips kissed my shoulder blade. “You are. Now, relax.”

Light flooded the room. I blinked, waiting for my eyes to adjust. The room slipped into focus. Black walls. A king-size bed with red silk sheets. Neon light strips bordering the ceiling. Black, faux leather velvet trunks filled with all different kinds of sex toys. Paddles. Chains. Whips. A bondage restraint table. Long, black leather couch with what looked like metal cuffs strapped to the top of it.

My excitement fucking soared.

“Are those mirrors on the ceiling?” I asked in awe, looking up.

“Yes. So you can watch.”

“Watch what?”

She let go of the leash. “Sit on the couch and you’ll find out.”

Don’t have to ask me fucking twice.

My eyes ran over everything as I made my way over to it. Fuck. I wanted to try it all. Anything and everything.

I plopped my ass down on the couch, trying to contain myself. My cock was rock-hard at all the possibilities that room held. Lyla stood in front of me, completely fucking naked except for the black heels on her feet.

“You. Are. Fucking. Stunning,” I breathed out.

Smirk in place, she picked up her hair, twisting it into a bun at the nape of her neck before shoving a long, red pin through it to keep it secure. “You’re so sweet to me, baby.”

“The things I want to do to you are very unsweet.” They were downright fucking filthy.

The smirk didn’t waver. “All in good time. Now, place your hands in the cuffs on top of the couch.”

I did as she commanded without hesitation. There were also cuffs at the bottom of the couch—I found that out when she shackled me into them, snapping them closed around my ankles. Lyla moved behind the couch next, doing the same thing to my wrists. I didn’t even have to stretch to try to accommodate them.

“How are these the perfect distance apart?” I asked, watching her with fascination.

“I measured the length of your arms when you were sleeping and had it designed to the exact right specifications, of course.”

“Oh, of course.” I chuckled. “How silly of me to ask.”

“Yes, so silly.”

She unclasped the leash from the front metal ring, attached it to one at the back, and pulled. My head tilted back, and I watched her secure the leash around another metal ring on the floor behind the couch. When she stood, I tried to move.