Page 34 of His Atonement
Boxes of shit I definitely didn't order because my equipment is still a couple days away and I know what those packages look like.
Curiosity wins out though, because if I don't bring them in and open them up, I'm going to fixate on it all night and I'll end up dragging this downward spiral out even longer.
Once I take them inside, I line the three boxes—thank you OCD gods—up from smallest to biggest and start there.
It's a pair of boots.
A pair of boots I'd never buy for myself, not in a million years because my five-foot-eleven and three quarters ass does not need six inch stilettos of any kind.
I pull them from the box, the faux leather incredibly soft under my fingers despite the fact that they look like they were made to be worn by a dominatrix.
All black. Spiked heel. Probably stop just above the knee. They lace up in the front but also have buckles and chains on them, little studs along the back seam and across the toe.
They're actually kind of badass, to be honest, but I have no idea why they were sent here. So I set them aside and move to the medium sized box.
A corset.
An absolutely gorgeous corset the color of a dark red wine, black lace over the middle panel under the lacing, more along the bottom edges and the top.
It's beautiful and so sexy but again, no clue why it's here.
The third and smallest box, that's what gives away the sender and their purpose.
Black fishnet stockings. A faux leather choker and bracelets that connect with chains like shackles to the collar. A leather riding crop and cat-o-nine tails.
A very sleek looking black paddle with holes cut out in the shape of pitchforks.
A black satin blindfold, silk ropes and a ball gag.
And tucked underneath the stockings is a handwritten note.
My darling girl,
I thought it only appropriate that you have a uniform to match the she-devil that you are, a few tools of the trade in your possession. It is rather unfortunate they will go unused, but I wished you to have them all the same.
Sincerely yours,
Z
For the first time in days, I actually smile.
Zan finally fought back against the goats and he went in a pretty odd direction.
Clearly this was meant to either make me super uncomfortable because it's obvious I've had nothing but vanilla sex, or it's a jab because he really does view me as the devil, both valid reasons for all of it to go unused.
Regardless of his intent, this shit just backfired big time because I know exactly how I'm going to get Zan back for it.
I see the way he looks at me when he doesn't think I'm paying attention.
His stare practically sears my skin, burns in the most delicious way when his eyes linger on my body.
I see the way his pupils dilate, the sharp intake of breath, the bite to his lip or how his fingers flex at his sides.
It may have been a while, but I'm not stupid; I know what it looks like when someone is attracted to me and Zan is definitely attracted to me.
If he wasn't such an asshole I'd suggest an entirely different game for us to play, one that involved both of us naked, one that took care of a few bullet points on my bucket list.
Unfortunately, I don't think that's in the cards, simply because Zan is in fact an asshole. Probably fantastic in bed, but still an asshole.
