(KRYSTAL'S POV)
The cold air kisses my skin, raising every tiny hair on my body. The black leather straps are wrapped right around my wrists and ankles, the buckles secure. I'm laid out before him on the dark silk sheets, my legs pulled wide apart, my arms stretched above my head and tethered to the bedposts. I can't move an inch and my body's completely on display for him.
I'm his tableau… his canvas… and he's the artist about to make a mess of me.
Valentino stands by the bed, his cock already a thick, erect, and throbbing between his legs. He uncaps a bottle of oil and pours the slick, warm fluid into his palm.
"Tonight, your body doesn't belong to you," he says, "I own you."
His oil-slick hands land on my breasts first, cupping their full weight, making me gasp. He kneads them, his thumbs circling my nipples until they're hard. Every pass of his fingers is a spark, a tiny shock that makes my back arch as much as the restraints allow.
