𝐂𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐘

[17] Kinky Talk

k i n k y  t a l k
COVEY'S POV:

Conrad picked me up today. I was in the middle of my run when he called and told me to meet him at the park, so I went and he drove us back to his place. But might I say, I was not ready to be seen by the living Greek god himself. 

Which is why he let me take a shower. Without him. It took a lot of convincing. But I locked the door, so we're safe. I don't need his grubby hands on me when I'm dirty—dirty, hehe. 

Oh no, what has he done to my brain?

When I get out, I dress into a change of clothes he let me borrow—we're going on three pairs of his boxers, one shirt, and two pairs of sweats, and three hoodies now—and I walk out of the ensuite, trotting into his room.

He eyes me, smiling lightly. "You look cute."

"Cute?" He just said cute. Holy dinos. I let out a tiny laugh. "Well you're cute too."

He stops smiling, his lips turning into a pout. "I'd prefer to be called hot, but okay."

"Yessir, hottie," I say, walking over to him. "Oh, by the way, I finished Fifty Shades of Grey last night and I want the sequel. There has to be a sequel, right? She didn't just leave him. He apologized, and besides, she asked for him to show her his worst," I stutter. "I mean, is she that dumb?" When he doesn't reply, I say, "It's just—Christian Grey seems like the guy you'd do anything for in order to keep."

Conrad stares at me blankly, a mixture of shock and amusement flickering across his features. "You liked the book, I'm presuming, then?"

"I think I have a newfound obsession for that kinda stuff," I mumble, my words all running together.

He chuckles, pulling me to his lap. "So you like kinky stuff?"

"Well, I wouldn't know because I—uh—you know..." I internally slap my hands to my face. Dummy. 

"We can find out," he whispers, raising an eyebrow at me as his eyes turn a devilish, dark gray.

I grip his bicep ask he leans me back against the mattress. "Oh." Oh. Ohhhh.

"Yeah?" He tilts his head to the side in question.

I watch him intensely, getting lost in the mesmerizing effect of his face. He pulls away from me to get off the bed, walking around and into his closet. Conrad comes back a minute later with a tie in his hand, a cherry red one with darker red patterns woven into it. Oh. Ohhhh.

"Trust me?" he asks, positioning himself above me once again.

"Okay," I say, the same sort of adrenaline from the other night coursing through my veins. Anticipation. "I trust you."

He leans down to peck my lips. "Good girl." 

Goodie, goodie.

He takes off the hoodie and bra I just dressed into, and grabs my hands and puts my wrists together, binding them up in a knot with the tie. Tugging at it to make sure it's secure, he looks down at me dangerously, a sense of accomplishment behind his irises. Conrad moves my hands above my head and nibbles on my earlobe.

"No moving, alright?" he instructs, his tongue trailing down the side of my neck. 

I nod. "Okay, no moving."

"If you move, I'm going to pinch you," he mutters, his voice coming out huskier than usual. "Be a good girl."

I shiver at his words.