Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 121310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
"Really?" I breathe. "We get to try out the newest toy?"
Caleb just had it installed last week, and I've been staring at it ever since, imagining all the ways Domhn could use it to ruin me.
Domhn tilts his head, studying me. "That depends."
Oh, I know that look. My thighs clench.
"Have you been a good girl?"
My mind flickers to my secret headquarters, to the screens still aglow with the digital ghosts of my sins. I don't blink. Don't break from his stare.
"Yes."
Domhn's lips twitch in amusement. "I don't believe that for a second."
Neither do I, but it doesn't matter.
I take a step back, pressing myself against the chains, arms outstretched and legs spread.
An offering.
A dare.
His gaze darkens. He looks back toward where we were just sitting and snaps his fingers.
"Caleb. It's time."
The words send a bolt of heat through my core, a thrill so sharp it almost hurts.
Oh my god.
This sneaky, conniving bastard planned this. For me.
My throat goes tight, my breath catching. As much as I'd love to rip Domhnall's shirt open and sink my teeth into his chest for making me wait this long, the weight of the gesture settles somewhere deep inside me, pressing against something raw.
He sees me.
Underneath everything—the layers of control, the masks, the games—he sees me unraveling at the seams. And he's doing something about it.
He assumes it's just that I need to be fucked within an inch of my life, which—obviously, yes—but it's more than that. The pressure has been building. The anxiety, the waiting, the fraying threads of the past I thought I cut clean.
I haven't gone back into the chat room since the mystery hacker spoke directly to me like he could see right through my screen. I've been more careful than ever, covering my digital footprints, staying silent. But I see the whispers. The theories. The rumors that the Librarian is gone—retired, or missing, or... dead.
I let them think whatever they want. As long as no one comes looking.
I dyed my hair when I first came back to Donny and have kept it brunette. I wear glasses. I avoid cameras.
But Anna, that stupid, naïve little lamb, keeps dragging us into the light. She's helping with a goddamned Christmas gala Donny's company's throwing at the end of the week. Just waltzing right on out into the world with her bright smiles and soft hands, making us visible when we should be doing our level best to stay incognito.
But I can't tell her to stop. She'll ask why. She won't let it go.
So instead, I'm in limbo. Waiting. Trusting Domhnall to quiet the noise in my head the only way he knows how.
Caleb approaches, thin coils of silk shibari rope draped over his arm.
My head snaps toward Domhn. He stands off to the side, arms crossed, watching me with an arched brow.
Oh, he's enjoying this.
Something in my chest loosens. The chaos, the stress, the anxiety—all of it fades into the background.
Because Donny is here.
When he's like this, nothing bad can happen to me. He won't let it.
Caleb tugs me backward, positioning me at the center of the web. The chains clank, a metallic whisper of anticipation. My breath stutters as he starts binding me—silken rope against steel against skin. Each pass is measured and deliberate as I'm secured in place, legs and arms spread so that I'm left wide open. Completely vulnerable.
Domhnall watches.
He doesn't blink as Caleb loops the rope between my breasts in a tight figure-eight, pulling just enough to make my breath catch. My nipples pebble in the cool air. Aching. Straining.
My entire body hums.
Domhnall steps forward and grabs a sleek black box on the table beside him.
I don't see what's inside until he turns, holding up the most beautiful pair of dangling nipple clamps I've ever seen.
Diamond and emerald gemstones swing from the clamps, glittering beneath the club's overhead lights.
My breath locks in my throat.
He steps closer and presses the cold metal against my flushed skin. He doesn't wait for me to inhale before clamping down.
A sharp snap of pain-laced pleasure spears through me, and I gasp, my body arching forward. The chains groan as the web shifts with me.
Domhnall's smirk is pure wickedness. "Perfect."
The second clamp follows, just as ruthless. Again, sensation blazes through me, a raw current of pain that crackles from my nipples straight down to my aching, desperate cunt.
I feel everything.
The bite of the clamps. The constriction of the ropes. The heat of Domhn's gaze burning into me as I dangle—helpless, bound, completely his.
And then he reaches into the box again.
Oh, fuck.
My whole body tenses, a sharp, breathless ache curling in my gut.
What else does he have planned for me?
I shudder, my voice trembling as I whisper, "Donny!"
The clamps—the wicked, gleaming emerald clamps—have dragged a breathless, startled reaction from me, one I didn't mean to give him.