Haze (The Fosters of New York 2)

"What was it for?" I say breathlessly against his mouth.

"You did open your dress for a customer." His smile presses against mine. "Cicely wasn't impressed."

"I give zero fucks about Cicely. Zero."

He laughs then. The sound vibrates through me. How did I get this lucky? What did I ever do in my life to deserve the attention of this man?

"I want the things we do to be just about us." I stop to kiss him again.

He pulls me closer, his hands now wrapped lightly around my neck. "They are, Isla. Everything we ever do will just be about us."

"I bought you a gift."

His fingers run through my hair. "A gift? For me?"

I close my eyes, doubting for just a moment whether this is a good idea or not.

"Show me?" Expectation laces his words. "I want to see what it is."

"Gabriel." I press my mouth against his one more time, reveling in the sweet taste of his breath and the scent of his skin. "My bedroom is the first door on the left. Please give me five minutes. Just five and then you'll come in."

He kisses me then, with a low growl. "Five minutes, Isla. Not a minute more."

***

My heart stops for two beats when I hear the door open and the sound he makes. It's not a moan, it doesn't resemble a word. It's a slow, guttural sound that drives every ounce of desire to my core instantly.

"Jesus, Isla," he hisses as he walks into my view. "This is for me? You did this for me?"

The only light in the room are the vanilla scented candles I've placed around the space. There may be a dozen, maybe less. I lost count when I lit them with my shaky hands.

I'd pulled my dress off then, securing the black fur collar around my neck. I pulled the crop from the box I've kept it in since I bought it. I held it in my palms, imagining his strong hand wrapped around the handle as he pulls it over my skin, before he brings it down in a harsh snap.

"Isla," he says my name softly as he takes off his jacket, tossing it on a chair near the bed. "I've never seen anything more beautiful than this."

My body is completely on display. My thighs spread not more than a few inches, my pussy wet, wanting, aching for him.

He rolls up the sleeves of his shirt, his eyes never leaving mine.

I whimper faintly when he lowers one knee to the bed as he scoops up the handcuffs I'd left on the nightstand. He kisses a trail of soft bites up my right arm before he closes the cuff around my wrist. He wraps them around the post of my headboard before a soft line of kisses dot my left arm. When I'm finally bound he leans down. His index finger loops through the metal ring on the front of the collar. He pulls it up, my neck slowly bending with the movement as he pulls me into his waiting kiss.

"Haze, Isla."

"Haze," I repeat.

He moves back to look at me. His eyes focused solely on my face. "You don't know what you do to me. You can't understand what this means to me."

I nod as I bite my bottom lip, stalling the emotion that I'm feeling. "Please, sir."

His hand catches the handle of the crop. He brings it up into my view. His other hand stroking its length before it settles on the leather tongue at the top.

I moan the moment he lowers it to my cheek. He pulls it along, the leather warm and hard. "Slow tonight, beautiful Isla. We'll go slow."

I nod in response, not even sure that there are words I can form.

The leather glides along my chin, down my neck and across my chest. I stare up and into his face, watching the subtle nuances as his brows lift when the leather circles my nipple. I'm so aroused that they ache, they ache already and he has barely touched them.

I cry out when he slaps my right nipple with the leather. The pain only silenced by the pleasure in his breathing