Chapter 4 Tied in Silk and Secret

Chapter 4

The door slammed behind us.

I didn't speak. Neither did he.

Dante's steps were heavy as he walked ahead, his suit jacket already off, fingers tugging at his cufflinks, his body radiating tension and raw, hungry control.

I stood in the center of his bedroom, my knees still trembling from the hallway.

My skin was flushed. My thighs were soaked. My lips still tingled from the brutal kiss he'd stolen before walking away.

He said nothing when he turned toward me.

He simply raised one hand and pointed to the bed.

"Strip. On your knees."

No hesitation.

I obeyed.

The black dress hit the floor, and I crawled onto the bed like the filthy little secret he made me. I sat on my knees, nude, chest rising and falling, waiting-no, aching-for what came next.

He walked slowly around the bed, his eyes devouring me.

"Hands forward."

I lifted them.

He pulled open a drawer and retrieved a length of black silk rope.

My heart stopped.

"Are you scared?" he asked softly, circling behind me.

"Yes."

"Good."

He tied my wrists with precision-tight, smooth, elegant. The silk didn't hurt, but the knot was firm. Binding. Total.

Then he kissed the back of my neck.

Slow.

Possessive.

"I gave you rules, Ava," he said, tightening the knot. "And you broke one."

My breath hitched. "I didn't-"

"You begged to come."

My stomach twisted.

"I said you could drip. Squirm. Moan. But I didn't give you permission."

I swallowed. "I'm sorry."

"You will be."

He grabbed my wrists, now bound and helpless, and pulled them over my head, tying them to the headboard. My arms stretched above me. My body fully exposed.

"Tonight," he whispered, "you don't get to touch me. You don't even get to speak unless I ask."

He stepped back.

I was helpless.

Open.

Waiting.

He stripped.

Slowly.

Brutally.

And I watched every inch of muscle and power reveal itself.

Dante Wolfe was not just a man.

He was a weapon.

A sculpted, dominant beast with scars on his torso and fire in his eyes.

When he crawled onto the bed, I whimpered.

"Already begging and I haven't touched you yet," he murmured.

Then he did.

Everywhere.

His mouth latched onto my breasts, biting and sucking until I cried out.

His hands bruised my hips as he spread my thighs apart.

His fingers slid through my wetness and coated my folds with deliberate cruelty.

"Dripping like a slut," he said, voice low. "But no release. Not yet."

He teased me for what felt like hours.

His tongue lapped at my clit only to pull away when I arched.

His cock rubbed against my entrance only to retreat again.

And all I could do was take it.

No touching. No pleading.

Just obedience.

"You'll learn, Ava," he said against my ear. "Your body belongs to me. Your pleasure is mine to control."

I whimpered.

"I could edge you all night," he growled. "But I won't. Because you're going to earn it."

He flipped me on my side, one arm still tied, the other trapped under his chest.

Then he entered me with a brutal thrust that knocked the air from my lungs.

I cried out.

He didn't slow.

He pounded into me, hand gripping my bound wrist, forcing me to surrender completely.

His lips pressed to my shoulder.

"This is what happens to girls who forget who owns them."

I sobbed with pleasure.

"Say it."

"You," I gasped. "You own me."

"Louder."

"You own me!"

My orgasm shattered me.

And only then did he come-deep, loud, and possessive.

---

I don't remember falling asleep.

But I remember waking up still tied.

And not alone.

He was behind me, spooning me, his hand between my legs, two fingers lazily stroking me back to arousal.

"You're mine now, Ava," he whispered. "And we both know you like it."

I didn't deny it.

Because I did.

---

Later that day, I made the mistake of checking my phone.

Twenty unread messages.

Three missed calls from Harper.

One voice note:

> "Ava, where are you? You disappeared after the gala and didn't come home. Please don't tell me you went home with someone..."

My stomach clenched.

She didn't know.

But for how long?

I stared at myself in the mirror-hair tangled, throat marked, lips swollen.

I was no longer just her best friend.

I was her father's plaything.

And I didn't want to stop.

---

I slipped into Dante's home office a few hours later while he was on a call.

I shouldn't have been there.

He'd told me his study was off-limits.

But I was curious.

Addicted.

And reckless.

His desk was pristine. Cold. Powerful.

I sat in his chair, heart racing, imagining what he'd do if he caught me.

Then I saw the drawer.

The one with the keyhole.

Locked.

Why?

I tried to open it. It didn't budge.

Footsteps.

I stood instantly.

He was in the doorway, watching me.

Silent.

Still.

Dangerous.

"Get out," he said softly.

I froze.

"Now."

I obeyed.

But as I left, I saw something in his eyes I hadn't seen before.

Fear.

Just for a moment.

And I realized-

Dante Wolfe had secrets.

Not just lust.

Not just power.

Secrets.

And I had just touched one.