The Good Girl Effect (Salacious Legacy, #1)

by Sara Cate

Suddenly, I’m standing half-naked in front of him while he’s fully clothed, and it’s incredibly vulnerable and uncomfortable. I can practically feel my nipples tighten under my thin bra. He must notice too, because his attention lingers there as if briefly hypnotized. I grow warmer with every passing second that his eyes are on me. Shaking himself out of it, his gaze finds mine. “Before we start, I need to know you understand that this requires a great deal of trust between both of us. You trust me to keep you safe, and I trust you to communicate with me if anything feels wrong. Nod if you understand.”

As vulnerable as I feel giving my trust to him, I know he feels twice as vulnerable by letting me in.

“Normally, I’d want you blindfolded. It will heighten your senses and build trust, but I don’t think the first session is the right time to do it.” My brows soften as I stare at the black ribbon. “I can handle it.” Reaching out, he touches my chin. “Not yet.”

“We’re going to start with a basic tie, just so you can feel what it’s like. Hold out your wrists,” he says. His voice is soothing yet rough, and I find something like peace in his commands. He’s not bossing me around or barking orders at me. He’s giving me guidance, making his instructions easy to follow. Suddenly, I am eager to please. So I hold out my wrists. He steps away to pull a bundle of black rope from the wardrobe. My heart picks up speed at the sight of it. A second later, two strands of the rope are draped over my arms. He winds them around again and again, moving at a pace that is not rushed but not slow either.

my curiosity gets the better of me, and I close my eyes, eager to feel what it would be like. The moment my vision is gone, the rest of my senses heighten. The scent of his cologne becomes more potent, and the feel of his fingers on my skin grows warmer. It’s the same feeling I would get as a child when I’d fall asleep in the car, and my father would bring me into the house, barely waking me as he set me into my bed. It’s a feeling of safety.

“Open your eyes, Camille,” he says, and I do, taking a deep, slow breath, realizing that I have been holding it. Why? I don’t know. Our gazes meet, and I worry that he’s about to scold me. Instead, that hint of a smile reappears on his lips, and he shakes his head. “You never listen.” “Yes, I do,” I argue. “Fine,” he says, tugging gently on the binds around my wrists. “Prove it. Keep your eyes open and your mouth shut.”