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“You can’t ruin this,” he told her, keeping her face close to his. “It’s not up to you. If you want to go and do this thing, I want you to do it. Not everybody gets the opportunity to reset their past. I’ll support you completely.”
“My God,” she said, there against his mouth. “Do you have any idea how much I love you?”
He did. But he used his whip that night anyway, to measure it.
They found a flat in Oxford, and they made it work. Sometimes she flew out to meet him at his various business affairs. Other times, he came to her. And it wasn’t the same as living together 24/7, but it was fine. It was temporary, and they made it good.
And one night, when he waited for her in a pub not far from her last lecture of the day, he patiently turned down the advances of several women. And when he looked up, he found her watching him.
“Jealous?” he asked when she came to him, an odd look on her face.
“As a matter fact...not at all,” Erika said, and then she laughed. “I’ve worried so much about our separations, but I see now that I shouldn’t have.”
He traced her lips with his thumb, and felt himself harden, right there on the bar stool.
“Because you trust me implicitly?” he asked.
“That, and the reality of what we are to each other.”
She smiled at him, and he felt it then. That she finally saw what he’d seen in her, and helped her bring to the surface. Real power. Their power. And damn, if it wasn’t beautiful.
Just like her smile. “A random girl in a bar could never give you what I do.”
“Amen,” he said, drawing her closer. He made sure to pull her hard against his thigh, so he could press into her pussy, right there where anyone could see them if they looked hard enough. “And remember, please, that your flat is not soundproofed. I wouldn’t want your neighbors to call the police this time.”
And she still blushed, which was yet another reason he loved her to distraction. But these days, she also smiled. Wickedly.
“Promises, promises,” she said.
And then paid for that impertinence, later.
Dorian was there, along with Conrad and his wife—but mercifully not her mother—when Erika walked across the stage and got her degree at last.
Because she could do anything, and would, and he would be right there with her every step of the way. He would put his rings on her finger. She would make him some babies. He knew what he wanted his happy-ever-after to look like, because he was already living it.
She was his. And she was perfect.
Especially when he knew that underneath her graduation robes, Erika wore nothing but his favorite plug that he’d greatly enjoyed inserting earlier—and his handprints, all over her extraordinary ass.
