“Or you will learn why people whisper my name,” he said, the words as rough as his fingers on my skin. “Why I’ve never collared a submissive. What it looks like when I decide to have someone as my own.” He lowered his mouth to my ear and murmured, “There would be no politeness, no mercy. Your only recourse would be your safe word. I’ve waited years to have someone belong to me, and I would make you feel every day, every hour, that I’ve abstained.”
