His BDSM Room

I blinked, my gaze shifting around the room as his words settled in. The glass table shone like new, not a scratch on its surface. The couch beneath me smelled faintly of leather polish, too fresh to be old. Even the kitchen counters gleamed in a way that spoke of recent replacement. My eyes darted upward, toward the staircase, toward the rooms beyond–and I knew he was telling the truth.

My cheeks flamed, but I stayed still, secretly savoring the steady thump of his heartbeat against my ear as he carried me up the staircase.

The tone, the phrasing—it wasn’t a suggestion. It was an order, wrapped in tenderness. My wolf stirred, not in defiance, but in… submission? The thought startled me, and I huffed out a nervous laugh.

Before I could even blink, Louis scooped me up into his arms as though I weighed nothing. I let out a startled laugh, clinging to his shoulders. “Louis! Put me down.”

Swallowing hard, I turned to face Louis, my chest rising and falling too quickly, my lips parting around words I almost couldn’t say. But the hunger in me–the desire–was louder than fear.

The floor was covered in thick black mats, clean and seamless, while in the center stood a padded bench with straps tucked neatly at the sides. There was no clutter—every object had its place, as though Louis had curated it carefully, intentionally.

We passed one door on the left. He slowed for a second, then tilted his head toward it. “That’s my bedroom,” he said evenly. “But my tools aren’t in there.”

My throat tightened, my breath hitching as I looked back at him. The jealousy still burned faintly in my chest, but it was slowly smothered by his words.

He continued down the hall until we reached the next door. Setting me gently back on my feet, he pulled a small keypad cover aside and typed in a code, his fingers steady and fast. The faint beep of the lock disengaging sent a shiver through me.

His words sank into me, and deep down I knew they were true. I did know him. I knew the man sitting before me wasn’t careless with his heart. My wolf, restless and protective, eased slightly at the raw honesty in his tone.

A slow smile curved his lips, one that sent heat rushing to my cheeks. He shook his head once, then leaned closer until his breath brushed against my ear. “You’re not my sub, Olivia.” His voice was steady, rich with quiet certainty. “You’re my mate. That’s far more powerful.”

I stepped inside, and my breath caught in my throat.

Against one wall stood a polished wooden cross, its surface gleaming faintly in the light. Beside it, a locked cabinet, tall and sleek, hinted at more hidden inside. On the opposite wall hung neatly arranged racks: cuffs of leather and steel, lengths of rope wound perfectly, a few gleaming chains suspended like art.

“Careful, Louis,” I teased, tilting my head at him. “You sound like you’re treating me as your sub.”

Louis’s hand slipped over mine, warm and firm. “Even my… tools,” he admitted quietly, his cheeks coloring just slightly, “have been replaced. This place, Olivia… it’s for us. For you.”

Louis leaned closer, his eyes never leaving mine. “You are everything. Do you understand? This apartment–every piece of it–it’s yours.” His voice dropped, almost a whisper. “The couch, the furniture, the utensils… even my bed. I replaced everything a week ago. I needed a fresh start. Needed to clear it all. For you.”

My breath shuddered out as I turned slowly, taking it all in. “Louis…” I whispered, my voice trembling, though I wasn’t sure if it was from fear or fascination.

I swallowed hard, my eyes drinking in the sight before me while my thoughts spun recklessly.

“Everything I told you,” he said, his voice low and tense, “was in the past. I swear it. You know me, Olivia–you know me better than anyone, I wasn’t myself then. None of us were. If my head had been clear, if my heart had been… awake, I would never have touched another woman. Never.”

He only gave me that calm, infuriating half-smile, his voice low. “Not until I want to.”

“No.”

He stepped behind me, his presence tall and consuming, his breath brushing against my ear. “Everything here,” he murmured, “is all new…”

Louis’s hand stayed wrapped around mine, firm but tender, his thumb tracing slow circles over my skin as though pulling me back to him. There was something in the way he looked at me–steady, commanding–that made my pulse trip over itself.

My pulse quickened.

The door opened.

Louis’s eyes darkened instantly, hunger clear in every line of his face. For a long moment, I thought he’d close the space between us, claim me then and there.

The air in the room was suddenly different now. Thicker, charged. My nipples tightened beneath my blouse, hardening against the soft fabric, and the sudden ache that bloomed low in my stomach made me tremble. My body betrayed me; even as my mind raced, I felt my pussy getting wet.

My blush deepened, but I lifted my chin, meeting his gaze head-on. “Yes. Show me.”

His brows arched slightly, surprise flashing before it softened into something darker, something dominant. He leaned back, studying me with that calm, unshakable gaze, his thumb still stroking my knuckles. “Are you sure you want to?” he asked quietly, almost a challenge.

The room wasn’t like the others—it was darker, more detailed. The walls were painted a deep shade of charcoal, the lighting soft and dim, creating a cocoon of privacy. Everything inside was precise, orderly, and purposeful.

“Olivia,” Louis’s voice cut through the rage inside me. His hands caught mine before I could pull away. “Please… calm down. Listen to me.” My chest heaved, jealousy and fire still prickling under my skin, but the way he looked at me–steady, pleading–held me still. He guided me carefully toward the couch, his touch grounding, his steps slow as though afraid I’d bolt at any second. I sank onto the cushions, tense, my arms crossed–but I let him sit beside me.

My cheeks flamed, my lips parting as I blinked at him. Heat coiled low in my stomach, my heart skipping a beat at the weight of his words.

“I want to experience this,” I whispered, my voice rougher than I intended. My fingers curled into fists at my sides, as though anchoring me, but my gaze never left his. “With you.”

I tried to cover the fluster in my chest with a playful roll of my eyes, but my voice betrayed me with its softness. “Then maybe I should see what kind of tools you’ve been hiding, Louis.”

Then he leaned in slightly, his voice dipping low, calm but edged with quiet authority. “You’ve had enough chaos today. Sit here. Let me take care of you.”

Then in a corner was the bed… its bedsheet red and white.

But instead, his jaw locked, his hand tightening around mine. His voice came low, rough, but steady–like he was holding himself back with everything he had.