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He knew a moment of dread, hoping he’d never let her down. Of course he’d never cheat on her, but “trust” was a big, encompassing word, and it covered different things and came with different expectations depending on who was using the term. But, like himself, Arabella was pretty levelheaded and wasn’t one for drama. Whatever happened, they could sort it out.
For what seemed like forever, he fought with the clasps, feeling like his hands were four sizes too big for the task and possibly belonged to someone else. She watched him struggle, her gaze filled with loving amusement.
“If you laugh at me right now, we’ll be adding to our long, long discussion later. This is a very serious moment, young lady.”
She groaned. “A discussion? Do you always have to phrase it that way? When you say we need to have a ‘discussion’ I have the urge to flip over and show you my vulnerable underbelly.”
“That’s the whole point.” He smiled at her and slipped one chain around her neck. “I had a whole speech prepared at one point, but I think you sucked it out of my cock last night. So let me just say this—I love you, Arabella. If I fuck up please tell me and I’ll do my best to fix it.”
“Fair enough.” She bit her lip and ran her fingers under her eye as a tear slipped out. “I love you, Grant. If you fuck up I’ll tell you with my big girl words, and if I fuck up I expect the same from you.”
“Fair enough.”
On the first try, he managed to fasten the chain she’d chosen, and he couldn’t help but hope it was a sign of good things to come. Then, of course, he struggled for a few minutes trying to fasten the one he’d chosen for her, just to keep him humble. By the time he was finished they were both shaking with laughter. Not exactly the kind of smooth collaring a Dominant always assumed they’d be able to manage, but luckily Arabella had never expected perfection from him.
As he helped her to her feet, they grinned at each other. It was nice to see she was as giddy about this development as he was. They had already gone through so much just to get to where they were, that maybe the trials of their relationship would be over for a while.
He touched the crown of her head, love swelling his chest so fully it ached. He’d never collared another woman, and with any luck and a lot of hard work maybe she’d be his indefinitely. It was hard to be sure whether she was ready to think of things as long term yet, but in his heart of hearts he knew she was the only woman for him. She always had been, even before he’d realized it.
Epilogue
Pain seared across Dex’s skin, and her whole body went rigid. Belatedly, she screamed, the white-hot slash too much to process all at once. She strained against the leather cuffs on her wrists and ankles, but her Master had made her chains so short she couldn’t wriggle out of place.
And to think she used to be jealous of the women he played with? Fucking sadist.
Only this morning, she’d been so excited to try out the new dungeon Grant had built in her basement . . . th
e sweet, summer child she’d been two hours ago.
It was hard to believe he’d gotten so much work done over the past month—on top of moving in. He’d had way too much free time since he’d closed Wild for the season. Other than picking up some of the slack at Catacombs, he’d made his time all about her.
His work-roughened hand smoothed over the spot he’d connected with and she hissed in protest.
“You have to stay still, naughty pixie. I wouldn’t want to hurt you . . . by accident.”
She opened her mouth to say of course he’d only want to hurt her on purpose, but he was dragging the end of his single tail whip over her skin, and the feel and scent of the leather made her moan. By the time he got to her pussy, he’d switched the whip for a smooth glass dildo. Ignoring her protests, he coaxed the toy into her slickness—it was damned cold, as if he’d packed it in ice. The strange sensation of cold inside her was only turning her on worse. Whimpering, she rocked on the dildo, unable to help herself even though she needed something on her clit far more than she needed something filling her. He knelt in front of her and fought one-handed to clamp her clit, but she was too wet for the clamp to stay on. Even so, she was shrieking at him by the time he’d given up, and felt raw and sore.
His tongue flicking over the slippery bud did nothing to fix things, but he rose and left her hanging—literally. He yanked the dildo from her pussy, leaving her empty and needy, then ran his thumb along the glass phallus and licked the moisture there.
She pouted at him. “I need that!” Whether she meant the dildo or his tongue was a mystery even to her.
A Dommy eyebrow rose in disapproval, and she shivered at his utter deliciousness.
“What a bad girl. You’d rather have a glass dick than your master’s cock?”
“Nooo,” she whined, thrusting her tits out at him and enjoying the way his gaze went heavy lidded and approving. He caressed her breasts, pinching them far too lightly for her liking, then he was behind her again.
“Choosing a sex toy over your own Master? Tsk. Not a smart move, little slave, considering the single tail is only a few feet away.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but it stayed open in shock at his next agonizing strike. Her scream rent the air. Had his damned whip had split her back in half?
Why the hell had she chosen Indiana fucking Jones as her Master, anyway?
“Fuck, I love making you scream,” he growled.
The sadistic delight in his voice made her body drip for him. She loved that he loved to hurt her. He wasn’t a man who topped to please his partner—he fucking lived for this.
The next slash of the whip cut sideways across her ass cheeks, and she screamed like she was dying.
