“It’s beautiful,” I said, coming up behind him and wrapping my arms around his shoulders. He smiled but said nothing, continuing his simple melodic expression.
“You know what to do, Mrs. D’Arcy,” he said without looking up. “Wait for me, and do not touch yourself.”
“Yes, sir,” I whispered, trailing my fingers along his shoulders as I walked toward the fireplace and kneeled. It was my favorite game: the waiting, the watching, the anticipation. It was intoxicating, and I was already dripping as I waited for the silence.
As he finished, I closed my eyes and listened to his footsteps as he approached where I sat. He ran his fingers through my hair as he tugged back my head, forcing me to bare my throat and meet his stormy gaze.
He brushed the pad of his thumb across my lips, smearing the dark red color I’d painted them before coming down. “So fucking beautiful,” he murmured.
I nodded my head, sucking his digit into my mouth before letting go. “And all yours,” I agreed.
“Mine,” he whispered, still lost in thought.
I bit down on his flesh, earning a slight smirk. “Perhaps you should remind me what it means to be yours, husband.”
He chuckled, tightening his hold. The sting was gloriously painful, and I had come to crave the sharp way he played my body. “That smart mouth will get you in trouble.” He leaned in and kissed me, drawing my lip between his teeth. I groaned as he pulled away, mourning the loss of the brief contact. “But then again, you have been trouble since the day I met you.”
The End . . . for now
