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I took a step back and made sure Harry’s eyes were firmly fixed on me. Knowing I had his full attention, I said, “I’m just a really, really, really terrible sub, standing in front of her master, asking him to spank her for the rest of their lives.” Fighting a smile, I asked, “Is that enough of an answer for you?”
I watched the twitch of Harry’s cheek, the hook of his lip, and suddenly I was being swept into his arms, my legs wrapping around his waist, being carried to the four-poster bed in the chambre. As my back hit the fucking god-awful PVC covered mattress, Harry climbed over me.
“You signed it Anonymous,” he said, referring to my article. “You signed it Anonymous.” He repeated it twice like he couldn’t believe what I had done.
“It seemed fitting.”
He searched my eyes, all humor gone. “But it was your dream to have that feature, to be recognized for your writing.”
I shrugged and wrapped my arms around his neck. “Dreams change.”
“Or sometimes they don’t,” he said, pressing kisses to my cheeks and lips. “Sometimes you have a bloody crazy dream that you think can never come true, then suddenly it does, and it’s right in front of you asking you to spank them for the rest of your lives.”
Loud laughter spilled from my throat. “We’re so fucking romantic it makes me sick.” When my laughter died down, I started taking off his clothes. Harry watched me with blazing heat in his eyes. When he was naked, I bit my lip and stripped down to nothing too.
“I’m naked, Maître. What do you want to do with me?”
Groaning, Harry picked me up and carried me across the room to the St Andrew’s Cross. Without breaking eye contact, he cuffed my wrists and ankles to the cross. Excitement and exhilaration tingled through my body as always. But this was different. As Harry’s bright blue gaze, which I adored so much, devoured me, everything about this moment was different. He was Maître; he was dominant and in control as always. But here, right now, with no masks or cloaks or veils, he was also my Harry. My Harry Auguste Sinclair, the man who I loved more than life itself.
I moaned, feeling every synapse in my body flaring to life as Harry kissed my calf, then peppered kiss after kiss on every inch of my skin. When his lips pressed against mine, I sobbed in happiness. Maître had never kissed me, had never even come close. But now Maître was smothering my lips, tattooing me with his taste, and placing himself permanently in my soul.
“Faith,” he moaned, placing himself between my legs. Hands sliding down my waist, then back north to cup my face, he pushed inside. As our heavy breathing filled the room, I submitted to his touch, to his body, and to his love. Harry kissed me as I moaned into his mouth, feeling the telltale pressure building at the base of my spine.
“Harry,” I whispered against his lips, feeling a stray tear slip from my eye. It was so much, him and me and the future that now lay before us.
“I love you,” he murmured, and I splintered apart. My wrists and ankles pulled against the restraints. Then Harry stilled and, calling out my name, came, his forehead falling to the crook of my neck. We were hot and breathless in the aftermath.
One by one, Harry untied the cuffs fastening me to the cross. When I was free, he carried me to the bed, lying down and guiding me to his chest. When I had gathered strength, I ran my finger down his sternum, smiling as his glistening skin bumped at my touch.
Harry kissed my forehead and ran his hands through my hair, completely contented. “It’s different,” I said, disturbing the pleasant silence of the room. I tipped my head so I could see Harry. He met my eyes. “This,” I continued. “Being in here with you, making love with you like that.” His addictive scent wrapped around me, holding me close. “Before it was fun, it was exciting, now…” I trailed off.
“Now?” he said, voice husky.
“I have always loved this. This side of you, of us.” I saw the stocks and the floggers and canes on the walls. “But just then, trusting you so fully, and having your eyes on me…” I shook my head. “Love,” I said, realizing I was rambling. “It made it different.” I kissed Harry’s cheek, then his lips.
Becoming lost to his taste, I managed to pull away, his hands cradling my face, and said, “It made it so much more. You and me, like this, in here, in love and no secrets between us…” I smiled. “It made it perfect.”
Harry rolled on top of me and kissed me. He kissed me until my lips felt bruised. “I’ll never get enough of you,” he said against my mouth. “In any way. In here tied up, at home in our bed, anywhere, Faith. I just want you.”
