?” he asks authoritatively.
I frown slightly at his question, and his face hardens perceptibly.
“What are the safe words, Anastasia?” he says slowly and deliberately.
“Yellow,” I mumble.
“And?” he prompts, his mouth setting in a hard line.
“Red,” I breathe.
“Remember those.”
And I can’t help it… I raise my eyebrow at him and am about to remind him of my GPA, but the sudden frosty glint in his icy gray eyes stops me in my tracks.
“Don’t start with your smart mouth in here, Miss Steele. Or I will fuck it with you on your knees. Do you understand?”
I swallow instinctively. Okay. I blink rapidly, chastened. Actually, it’s his tone of voice, rather than the threat, that intimidates me.
“Well?”
“Yes, Sir,” I mumble hastily.
“Good girl,” he pauses as he stares at me. “My intention is not that you should safe-word because you’re in pain. What I intend to do to you will be intense. Very intense, and you ha一ve to guide me. Do you understand?”
Not really. Intense? Wow.
“This is about touch, Anastasia. You will not be able to see me or hear me. But you’ll be able to feel me.”
I frown – not hear him? How is that going to work? He turns, and I hadn’t noticed that above the chest is a sleek, flat, matt-black box. As he wa一ves his hand in front, the box splits in half: two doors slide open revealing a CD player and a host of buttons. Christian presses several of these buttons in sequence. Nothing happens, but he seems satisfied. I am mystified. When he turns to face me again, he wears his small I-ha一ve-a-secret smile.
“I am going to tie you to that bed, Anastasia. But I’m going to blindfold you first and,” he reveals his iPod in his hand, “you will not be able to hear me. All you will hear is the music I am going to play for you.”
Okay. A musical interlude, not what I was expecting. Does he ever do what I expect? Jeez, I hope it’s not rap.
“Come.” Taking my hand, he leads me over to the antique four-poster bed. There are shackles attached at each corner, fine metal chains with leat
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