Bound and blindfolded, she lay on his bed, her senses sharpened, every nerve alive with anticipation. The world around her had disappeared into shadows; she couldn’t see him, yet she felt him everywhere. The air was thick with expectation, like the charged silence before a storm, and every breath she took seemed to carry both heat and ice, a thrilling contrast that made her shiver.

He was close—she could sense his presence, a force steady and unyielding, holding her in place without a word. She felt the mattress dip - he was here.

Without warning, her pulse raced as his fingers brushed her forehead, light as a whisper, tracing slowly down the curve of her face.

His touch was like fire on skin that had gone cold with waiting, each stroke precise, deliberate, savoring the stillness that stretched between them. She felt his fingers move down her jaw, lingering just long enough to leave a spark before drifting down to her neck, each gentle movement winding her tighter, her breath catching, hitching in her throat, her heart hammering in the dark.

"Lower?" He questioned deeply. "Yes...please.." she mewed.

His hand moved south, slowly, teasingly. His fingers tracing her collarbone, slipping slowly into the band of lacy lingerie. He pulled the strap away from her skin and let it go, letting it snap back.

The blindfold sharpened everything, ecver sense, filling her mind with every slight shift of his hand, every pause. She was wrapped in the sensation, suspended in his control, each new touch igniting a wave of anticipation that left her helplessly caught between the thrill and tension of his presence. His gaze—though she could not see it—felt heavy on her, it was the ice he brought, like a weight pressing against her skin, and the silence between them felt thick with a potent energy that made her heart beat faster. Like an iceberg towering over her frame.

"Lower, still?" He questioned again, his voice dropping an octave. "Please...Sir...please". She cried out. She was already begging, yet she felt no remorse. She need him to tou h her, feel her, claim her.

He paused, his hand hovering, leaving her hanging in exquisite, painful, tantalising stillness. She could feel his smirk, the subtle satisfaction radiating from him as he held her there, on the edge, in his control.

Her heart was hammering, her breath vacant. Slowly she felt his hand cup her breast over the lace. Firm, deliberate, yet tender. He murmured a quiet approval as soft sigh of satisfaction escaped from her lips.

The bond between them felt like a cord pulled taut, filled with a silent, electric intensity that left her both breathless and utterly still, drawn into the stark, thrilling space between them. A space soon to be filled.

The night had just begun, and she could barely wait.