The blindfold stayed firm, keeping her world in darkness. But she could feel everything. The silk binding her wrists, snug yet careful. The cool trail of the feather, teasing along her stomach, barely there but leaving heat in its wake. Then, the sharp contrast. A gentle slap of leather against her thigh. Not harsh—just enough to make her gasp, the sting blooming into warmth. And then his lips—soft, soothing, pressing into the same spot he’d struck, his tongue tasting the heat he left behind. "Good girl," Malik whispered against her skin. "You feel that? The way your body responds... so perfect for me."*