“I’m just curious,” Charlie said. “I would like to go once to see it, but maybe you’re right.”
“You’re too curious by far but, of course, that’s what makes you an excellent researcher.” Declan moved his arms, squeezing her closer to him. “A club is quite terrifying and wonderful all in one.”
“Why is it so terrifying?”
“You could get hurt.”
“I know you’d never hurt me though.” Charlie knew this wasn’t exactly what Declan was trying to say, but she wanted more reassurance from him.
“I would never intentionally hurt you, Charlotte. You know that.” Declan spoke quietly. “Most people never set out to hurt anyone, and while I don’t want to hurt you, I can’t honestly say it won’t happen at some point. We are all flawed, and imperfect people do eventually hurt each other in some form or another.”
“Nope,” Charlie said, sticking her tongue out at him. She wanted to lighten the solemn mood Declan had imposed.
“Stop that, will you?” Declan poked her tongue with his finger. “You don’t know that I won’t.”
“Very true, but what if we make some sort of bargain?”
“What sort of bargain?”
“Well, for your side of it, you will do your level best to not hurt me.”
Declan frowned at Charlie, his lips twisting downward, like a petulant schoolboy. “Ms. Flynn, I believe I’ve already stated that I cannot promise that.”
She pouted. “Fine. If you do ever hurt me, you will need to apologize.”
“All right.” He nodded. “Wait, how will I know I’ve hurt you?”
“I’ll make sure to tell you.”
“Oh, you are such an impertinent girl.”
“Will you punish me?” Charlie feigned tears.
Declan laughed, watching Charlie. His eyes twinkled with mirth. “Do you know what we call this, Charlotte?”
“Who is we?” Charlie played along.
“Myself and those who frequent ‘BDSM places,’ as you described them.”
“Oh. No, what do they call it?”
“Topping from the bottom, my sweet girl.”
“We’re both on the floor though.” Charlie couldn’t resist being a bit of a smart-ass.
Declan stared at Charlie for a moment, blinking rapidly, and then he laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
Declan swooped in and kissed her on the forehead, leaving her feeling intoxicated. Her body tingled, ready for him, wanting him. He finished laughing and pressed his lips near to hers. “If I punish you because you ask me to, it’s hardly me controlling you, now is it? The punishment should be about what I want.” His voice was lower, more seductive.
He pushed Charlie onto her back, rolled atop her, pressing her into the floor with the entirety of his body. “I will apologize when I have hurt you, but I will punish you whenever I like, Charlotte. What do you think of that?”
Charlie nodded quickly. “Yes, Master.”
“Perhaps I shall punish you right now,” he growled.
She nodded faster.
“I don’t think I will though. You’d like that too much, and I have no reason to do it at the moment.”
Charlie stilled.
“Though,” Declan’s hand slid down her side and he wrenched the cloth of her pants down. “Perhaps … I’ll have my way with you right here, right now. What do you think of that?”
Chapter Sixteen
Declan grabbed one of her wrists, and then the other with his free hand. He pulled Charlotte’s hands above her head, pressing the backs of them against the floor.
“We’re going to try something new this evening,” Declan said. Charlotte opened her mouth, but before she could respond, he cut her off. “Don’t speak.” He removed a hand from one of her wrists, placing it across her mouth. “Imagine my hand is a gag. I will remove it, but the gag will remain unless you need to tell me no or you ask me to stop. Do you understand? Nod your head if you do.”
Charlotte nodded, and Declan removed his hand.
He pushed her hands to the ground against the floor, her knuckles scraping against the Persian rug. “These are shackles on the ground. I’m binding your wrists with them right now.” He released her wrists and grinned. “That is all, Charlotte. Simplicity works best in some circumstances. You may struggle from side to side if you wish, and you may moan into your imaginary gag, but unless you require me to cease our activities, you will not move your hands and you shall not utter one word. If you do, I will stop immediately.”
Declan leaned back and admired her as she nodded her acquiescence. She kept her hands above her head, clasping her fingers together, and her lips remained tightly pursed together. Spreading her legs with his hands, he held her thighs in place. He then traced his hands upward toward her hips but stopped. He lifted her legs, pushing them forward with his hands until her knees bent. The fire behind them crackled and sparked, heating up the room. Charlotte warmed beneath his touch too. He bent her legs until her knees hovered over her stomach. Her sex parted for him. She squirmed, wriggling back and forth. He held her thighs tight. He leaned down, looming over her. “Stop fidgeting, Charlotte.”
She gifted him a confused look but didn’t speak.
“Stop thinking,” he commanded. “I want you to just feel. I adore your intelligence, the way your mind works, but at this moment, I am forbidding you to think. All I am allowing you to do is feel.”
Declan released one of Charlotte’s thighs and unzipped his pants. He shifted them down until they gathered at his knees. Moving closer still, he touched the head of his cock against her slit, rubbing it up and down. He relished teasing every whimper, every moan, every response from Charlotte. Soon she bucked and spasmed as Declan teased her into submission.
***
Declan watched Charlotte as she lie sleeping in her bed, admiring her beauty. She looked so serene and tranquil. He adored her soft features and the little noises she made as she exhaled during slumber.
He thought of the night before and their game of imaginary bindings in front of the fireplace. He sifted through the images of Charlotte enraptured. The look of unadulterated bliss on her face, and the briefest of gasps at his shaft’s intrusion into her inner depths. Looking down at her while she climaxed, the small pearl of her clit contracting in and out excitedly. He loved the way she gave over everything to him last night. She gifted him with complete control. It was no longer an illusion for him.
For Declan, control had always been a fantasy. For him control came in many forms. In his daily life, the fantasy of control laid within organizational porn he consumed. It was in the day planners, the life hacks, the promise of a fresh Moleskin, and a brand new Waterman pen. The smell of the unused pages, the perfect weight of the pen in his hands all spoke to him. They seduced him with a promise of stopping the chaos. They whispered We are the tools you can use to transform the maelstrom into a beautiful ballet. Declan’s ideas about control fused into one thought—dance, don’t scramble. Dance required precision and control to appear effortless, as did control.
The fantasy took different shapes within his kink. It rested in the ability to lift a finger, give a slight nod, or have another respond instantly and correctly with the outcome he desired. Sometimes it took the form of a position, and the stimulus and outcome were like a finely tuned dance. Sometimes it was a pragmatic result, like a perfectly made espresso or lips wrapped around his cock. Sometimes it was as simple as it was last night; Charlotte’s face registered how much she shared the other side of the fantasy of control.
Declan realized that Charlotte was the only one that could ever bring him back to himself, to give him that fantasy of control. She alone allowed him the full freedom to shape the fantasy of control for both of them.