Page 24 of Hateful Prince

It sounded rather pleasant when she put it like that. “That sounds like a scene from one of your books.”

“I haven’t... uh, CNC isn’t something I’ve written yet.”

“Why not? You’ve clearly given it a lot of thought.”

As have I, ever since the seed had been planted.

She blew out a breath. “I wondered if you were going to bring this up again.”

I cocked my head. “Why? I told you I wanted to have a discussion with you before we explored together.”

She didn’t want to meet my eyes; instead she focused on her fingers and twiddled the pen. “Because you changed your mind? I dunno.”

“I am a man of my word, darling. Besides, anything that makes you that horny is something I want to do over and over. But we have to set some ground rules. You have to trust me before I can make certain every dark fantasy you’ve ever had comes true.”

“You already know the big one,” she murmured, finally risking a glance.

“Taking you in your sleep?”

She nodded.

“And what else?”

“Kidnapping. Captivity. But I don’t want to be bound. I need my hands and feet free.”

My throat was fucking dry. “What about sensory deprivation? Blindfolds specifically.”

“As long as I can hear your voice.”

My voice. Not anyone else’s. Fuck, this woman was made for me.

Her gaze lingered on my mouth before she asked, “Is that something you’re interested in?”

“I’ll kidnap you better than anyone ever could, love. But I won’t be physically violent. I can’t.”

“You’re a pirate,” she teased. “Isn’t that part of the job?”

“I’m your lover first. Pirate second. I won’t hurt you. Nothing outside the realm of a good rough fuck. Fingerprints, bite marks, sure. But hitting you? Purposely drawing your blood? No. It’s a hard limit for me.”

Her breath hitched, and my gaze dipped down to her chest, a groan catching in my throat at the sight of her hard nipples pebbling under the fabric of her shirt.

“Sounds good to me,” she managed.

I had to force myself to drag my eyes back to hers. This was important; I needed to stay focused. “And the element of surprise, that’s crucial for you, right? You don’t want any indication that it’s coming?”

She bit down on her bottom lip and nodded.

“How will I know if I’m not welcome?”

Her brow furrowed as she considered my question. “I don’t know.”

Glancing around the room, I looked for some sort of identifier for us to use. Hair ties littered her small dresser, but those were too common. I stopped, holding out my right arm, which sported three different bracelets. Perfect.

Removing my favorite, a whiskey-brown braided leather, I secured it on her wrist. “As long as you’re wearing this, the door is open. If you’re ever not willing, leave it off, and I’ll know.”

As I stared at the piece of jewelry adorning her skin, a loud, persistent ticktock infiltrated my joy.

Ticktock