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Summary
In the center of the dimly lit room sat the Lieutenant.
He was stripped of his tactical gear, wearing only his dark combat trousers. His massive chest rose and fell in a slow rhythm that belied the immense tension locking his frame. A thick, black strip of fabric was tied securely around his head, blinding him to his surroundings, forcing his chin slightly upward. Behind the heavy wooden chair, his thick wrists were bound tight, the coarse rope biting into the skin slightly.
Simon Riley was a man who survived by controlling every variable in his perimeter. Right now, he had nothing but the dark.
And oh, how the feeling made his cock ache.