WHAT WE DO IN THE NIGHT (Day to Night Duet #1) by STYLO FANTOME

EXCERPT from WHAT WE DO IN THE NIGHT (Day to Night #1) by STYLO FANTOME

Valentine followed Ari’s gaze, taking in the scattered bits of makeup and a pair of emergency panties and all the other odds and ends which had spilled out of her fallen bag. She couldn’t figure out what was fascinating him so much – it was all fairly standard girl stuff.

Then he took a step away from her and bent down towards the mess, and she honed in on what had his attention. She laughed softly as he picked up a pair of shiny handcuffs.

“Got a third job as a cop?” Ari guessed, dangling them from one finger as he stood upright. “Or a dominatrix?”

“I wish. I’ve got all sorts of work stuff in my bag, you know, like a spare outfit, insoles, a wig. My boss has been planning this Cops-and-Robbers themed night, but he keeps changing the date. I finally started keeping the costume in my bag, just in case,” she explained.

“So if I were to search your bag right now, I’d find a sexy cop uniform?” Ari checked.

“Do you want to play Cops-and-Robbers with me?” she teased, giving him a cheeky smile. “Want me to chase you around and arrest you?

Ari didn’t smile back, though. His eyes were back on the handcuffs. They were very authentic looking, she knew; they were shiny and had weight to them, and there was even a key somewhere in the depths of her bag.

“No,” he finally spoke in a low voice. “No, that’s not what I want at all.”

Valentine could feel the mood in the apartment abruptly change. Almost like the lighting had dimmed, or the temperature had risen. The atmosphere became charged, like it some times did before a storm or a natural disaster.

“And what do you want?” Valentine asked, her voice husky. He stared at the cuffs for a moment longer, then turned his gaze to her.

“I want to chain you to my bed,” he said very simply. “And I want to do anything I want to you.”

“Ooohhh, very kinky, Mr. Sharapov,” she breathed.

“I want to have total control over you.”

Ah. The magic words. The poisoned words. Terrifying and exhilarating all at once. To not be in control … what a gift. She let her eyes flutter shut. To have someone else take control, make her decisions, tell her what to do – it sounded like heaven.

But giving someone like Ari control, that sounded like danger. He already had some sort of strange pull of her. If she submitted completely, would she ever be able to get free of him again?

This wasn’t life, though, she was being silly. This was just sex. This was just a couple hours where he could be the person he really wanted to be, and she could just let go of everything. Could just be …

Saint Valentine.

“Then take control,” she finally whispered back.

His hands were on either side of her neck, pulling her into him. He still had a cuff hanging from his finger, and the metal was cold as it pressed against her skin. She trembled when she felt his mouth at her ear.

“I going rip this fucking dress off of you,” he stated. She nodded her head.

“Okay.”

“Then I’m going to cuff you to my bed.”

“Okay.”

“I want to be in total fucking control.”

“Okay.”

Valentine gasped when Ari made good on his word – he grabbed the neckline of her dress and gave a solid jerk, yanking on the material so hard she stumbled in place, her eyes opening wide in surprise. The dress split down the front and she was impressed; he’d ruined it in one shot. The fabric pooled at her feet and she was left in just her heels, a strapless bra, skimpy panties, and the necklace with his key on it. He plucked the key away from her chest, then wrapped the chain around his fist, pulling it tight.

“Never take this off,” he growled, and she managed to nod.

“I won’t.”

He yanked on the chain, pulling her in for a rough kiss. While he staked his claim on her mouth, his hand went into her hair, the metal from the cuffs once again biting into her skin. She hissed, then gasped when he bit down on her lip.

“Move.”

He still had a grip on her hair as he forced her across the apartment and she stumbled along in her heels, wondering if she should kick them off. Then she decided not to because hey, he was in charge, after all. He would decide when she should take things off.

Once they were beside his bed, her bra was discarded. Valentine knew he had a particular fondness for her breasts, but Ari ignored them, spinning her around and shoving her over, instead. She planted her hands on the bed and gasped when he ripped her underwear away from her body.

That’s two pairs he owes me now.

He handled her like she was in trouble. Like she was an object. Shockingly, it didn’t feel degrading at all – it felt liberating. Valentine spent all her time being everything to virtually everyone in her life. It was exhausting.