Gleam (The Plated Prisoner 3)

My ribbons come up instantly, two of them unthreading the braids they created. A gentle comb through, and then my scalp is relaxed, my golden tresses hanging down my back in gentle waves.

“I can’t wait to thread my fingers through every strand,” he tells me. “To twist it around my fist and tip your head back so I can look you in the eye as I take you from behind.”

A stuttering breath slips past my lips at his wicked words, and I watch as his eyes dip lower. Lower.

Slade hums. “I’m inclined to agree with you about the corsets, but I have to say, Fifth’s undergarments are a different matter entirely.”

A nervous laugh comes out of me as his gaze settles on my ass that’s currently encased in gold lace. Glittering stockings hug my legs, the tops stopping at my thighs. His hands move to the armrests, his fingers curling over the ends to give it a white-knuckled grip, as if he has to hold himself back, or else he’ll pounce on me.

“Turn around for me, Auren.” His voice simmers and strokes.

I don’t know how he can affect me so much, but every gravelly instruction he speaks adds weight to the lust that’s already piled inside of me. I step out of the dress and turn in a slow circle until I’m facing him fully, in nothing but my gloves, stockings, underwear, and boots.

His lips quirk up when he sees my long hair hanging perfectly down in the front to cover my breasts. “Tease.”

“I’m only following directions,” I say with an impish grin.

Movement on the floor has both of us looking down at the same time where we see my ribbons trying to slither closer to Slade.

“Now these, on the other hand, seem to be quite brazen,” he says, sounding entirely too pleased about that.

I give them a tug. “They’re just trying to get closer to the fire.”

“Liar.” With a smirk, he tips his head. “Come here.”

My eyes narrow. “Slade.”

“I won’t touch your skin, I promise. Put your foot right here,” he says, widening his legs and tapping the spot between.

A hard swallow travels down my throat when my gaze drops down to the very visible bulge in his pants. Walking forward, I carefully lift my foot and brace it on the edge of his chair, right between his muscled thighs.

There’s a slow drag of his gaze that goes up the entire length of my leg. Slade hums, and the noise seems to settle right in my core, making it pulse. “You are the most stunning female I have ever seen.”

His compliment sends butterflies fluttering past the crevices of my chest. I don’t look away from his face when he lazily trails my every curve as if he’s taking his time to see every part of me. I have the sudden urge to reach down and thread my hands through his hair, so I hold them behind me instead, my fingers tangling into the base of my ribbons.

With my foot propped up like this, Slade has the perfect view of, well, everything. I suck in a breath at just how intimate this is, and he looks up at me with a glint in his eye.

We’re so incredibly close, and even though my lace panties cover me, and my hair hangs over my breasts, I still feel so exposed. In the firelight, my skin gleams, the tight weave of my stockings glistening.

“Don’t move,” he tells me, and then his hands come down to the laces of my boots.

Transfixed, I watch his deft fingers untie the knot and then begin to meticulously loosen the ties. When he’s slackened them all, he gives my boot a tap, and I carefully switch legs until my right foot is propped up. He does the same thing to that foot, and then he looks up at me again.

“There,” he says quietly.

Setting my foot down on the floor, I back up and slip out of my boots, and then I back up a few more steps, putting some safe space between us before one of us pounces on the other.

“Go sit on my bed.”

I shake my head. “I’ll gild it.”

“I don’t care,” he says roughly.

“I do. The servants will see.”

“They’re not allowed in here.”

Looking around at the messy space, I smirk. “Maybe they should be.”