The Six: Genesis | A Reverse Harem Novel

Ninety-Eight

Author's Note:

There are no words to express how grateful I am for every one of you! Your support is everything as well as your patience. 

I don't get a chance to reply to every comment and I am so sorry for that; I did want to take a moment and say thank you to those who comment, vote, and read. If you haven't heard it today, you're awesome. I hope you have an amazing day!

"Are those... chains?"

Chris' finger necklace forgotten, I trace my vision upward until I meet the exposed beams above. Twin steel cuffs hang from the ceiling, softly swaying on braided metal. They're centered above the center mattress, and it's painfully obvious who they're for. His dark chuckle makes my stomach flop.

"Why... How... Chains?" I sputter, squirming as his other hand slips across my hip and downward to my pussy. "Chris! You were here for—ah—six hours. How did you have time to install cuffs for my wrists so quickly?"

His head tilts as his fingers continue to explore, lightly rubbing my clit into circles. Groaning, I arch my back and lift my hips. I want more.

Pressure steadily pulls taut in my abdomen. I've missed his touch. I've missed his everything.

I'm halfway to coming when he pulls away, a satisfied smirk on his face. His blue eyes gleam mischievously. "Who said the cuffs were for your wrists?"

"Wha..." Confused, I drag my gaze between him and the cuffs. "What else would they be for?"

"I suppose we'll find out how much you learned from Lewis." A mysterious smile overtakes his face as he stands and motions to the open bathroom door. "Care to join me?"

Dumbfounded, I follow. "How much I learned?"

What the hell does that mean—oh! The chains aren't for my wrists. Gulping, I trail Chris as he enters the bathroom.

They're for my ankles. And no, despite Lewis' attentiveness, I still struggle with keeping my legs open. Something I know Chris is going to love to deal with while using those chains.

Arousal spikes hard as we come around the door and a familiar object rests against the wall. Spreader bar. Black calligraphy loops along the side. Curious, I move closer and pause.

"It has my name on it?"

Chris throws a look over his shoulder. "Who else's name would it be?"

His muscles roll as he walks. Completely naked, Chris is a work of art. Hard muscle strains under his skin, winging his broad shoulders and tapering at his narrow waist. Firm enough to bounce a quarter, his ass has starred in many of my wettest dreams and he hasn't skipped leg day.

This man is fine.

"Like what you see, Hawthorne?"

Rolling my eyes, I continue to shadow his footsteps, "Love it. You know I do."

The polished marble floors are cold to my bare feet as we enter the bathroom. Bright lights shine from above, dousing us in what I can only describe as a hazy memory from an opulent hotel. Gold filigree runs through the cracks of the marble, leading straight to an egg-shaped soaker tub.

Sitting behind a behemoth of a marble stall shower, it frames a massive window peering through to the other side of the mountain. On either side of us, mirrors rise from the black iron countertops to the ceiling with matching black facets. At each vanity, a swiveling chair awaits—calling to me.

Exhaustion pulls at my bones and joints. I don't want to take a shower. I want to go back to the nest in the bedroom and pass out for a few days, but I know sleep is the last thing the guys want—especially Chris. His cock is rock hard, curving upward toward his belly button, with a vengeance.