Preface

Maya spent her days preaching control—alignment, breath, balance. She spoke of chakras and mindfulness, of letting go without truly letting anyone in. Her yoga studio was her sanctuary, her armor. But no mantra could quiet the ache she carried between her thighs, the whisper in her mind that wanted her bent, tied, owned.

She didn't know his name when she first saw him. Just his presence.

Tall, dark, and carved like violence in motion, Rico worked the door of Club Ash like a panther on watch—still, unreadable, always ready to pounce. One night, she lingered too long in his gaze. He didn't smile. He didn't flirt. He just stared.

And she came back the next weekend. And the next.

She didn't need a safe word. She needed someone who didn't ask for permission.

And Rico never did.