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He’d thought for a moment that she was going to call the scene, safeword out and be done. If she had, that would’ve been fine with him. He had no expectations for the exercise except to discover if she liked it, and if she didn’t, then no harm done. He’d hidden his amusement at her reaction and waited patiently for her to decide what she wanted to do. She’d studied his face so intently, her eyes narrowed as she’d searched every nuance of his expression, and it had gone on so long he’d been on the verge of calling it himself.
But she’d surprised him then, lifting first one hand, then the other, so he could remove the mittens, sitting quietly while he’d slipped off the booties and knee pads and unclipped her tail from the plug. Then she’d turned and, moving carefully over the hard tile, crawled into the shower.
Her face had gotten red then, blazing red, and she’d looked away. He’d crouched down, cupping her face in both hands so she had to look at him, and waited. He could see the struggle on her face, the fight between the basic physical need to pee and the desire for the privacy she was used to. He’d kept his eyes on hers, his expression calm and his voice soft and encouraging, and after a long moment, she let go.
Her cheeks had been bright red the entire time, her skin so hot it burned under his fingertips, but there had been relief in her eyes, too, and gratitude. He’d been shocked to find himself blinking back tears, touched and moved by the trust and faith it had taken for her to expose herself so fully in front of him. He’d kissed her, soft and sweet as she’d finished, and lovingly rinsed and dried her off. He’d replaced each piece of puppy gear, whispering words of praise and pride, and by the time he was finished, her face had been glowing with quiet pleasure.
Even now, hours later, the impact of that moment hadn’t faded. It had lingered throughout the day, while they played and while they rested, when he’d fed her dinner and fucked her afterward. It was there now, while she slept curled at the foot of the bed as a puppy would, her ears askew and her tail drooping, and even though he’d planned to officially end the scene at midnight, he suddenly very much wanted his wife back.
He rose quietly from the bed to walk to the bathroom for a wet washcloth and a towel, then came back to perch on the side of the bed. He pulled her booties off first, letting them fall to the floor, then tugged the headband free. She stirred, her lashes fluttering, and gave a quiet, inquiring yip that made him smile.
“Puppy time is over, Amanda,” he said softly, and freed her hands. He stroked a hand down her back as she flexed her fingers, wiggling them around. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” she whispered, her voice a little rusty from lack of use. “What time is it?”
“Just after ten.” His hand settled on her lower back. “I have to take the plug out.”
She winced, but nodded. “Okay.”
“Deep breath, love,” he instructed, and got a firm grip on the base. “And out.”
He tugged it free when her breath whooshed out. He pressed a soft kiss to her mouth, set the plug aside for later cleaning, and picked up the washcloth.
“Stay still while I clean you up,” he said, and she lay quietly until he was finished.
“What do you need?” he asked her, brushing her hair away from her face.
She sighed, turning her face into his hand. “I’m thirsty,” she admitted. “And I have to pee again.”
He chuckled at that, then slid off the bed and reached down to help her up. “You can do that by yourself, if you like.”
The look she gave him when she stood made him laugh again. “I’m going to take that as a yes.”
“It’s definitely a yes,” she muttered, and took a wincing step toward the bathroom.
“Joints a little stiff?” he guessed, and she nodded. “Want me to carry you?”
She shook her head. “I need to stretch a little.”
“Okay. While you do that, I’ll get you some water.”
Her smile was sleepy, her eyes soft. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
He waited to make sure she made it to the bathroom okay, then trotted downstairs for a bottle of water. He took a minute to shut down the house, turn off the lights and lock the doors, and by the time he made it back to the bedroom, Amanda was already climbing into bed.
She took the bottle of water gratefully and sipped steadily as he shed his clothes and slid under the covers next to her. When she’d drunk about half the bottle, she set it on the nightstand then lay down with a sigh.
“All right?” he asked.
“Hmmm.” She curled up next to him, her head on his shoulder. “Tired. A little sore.”
“Want a hot shower?”
She shot him a look. “Nobody’s getting in that shower again until it gets scrubbed,” she said drily, and he shook with laughter.
“I’ll do it in the morning,” he assured her, still chuckling.
“Good,” she said, and yawned, and closed her eyes. “I want to sleep, now.”
“Go right ahead, love. Will it bother you if I read for a while?” he asked.
She shook her head, her hair sliding over his skin. “Nope. Love you.”
He leaned down to press a kiss to her hair. “Love you too, Mandy-girl,” he whispered.
Her eyes stayed closed, but she smiled, and he watched her drift off to sleep. He put his book aside, no longer interested in reading, and clicked off the light. He lay in the dark, listening to her breathe, feeling it against his skin, until he drifted off, too.
