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Grigory gets up behind me and places his hands on my shoulders. “You may not like Bach, but you sure have no problem playing him.” He leans down and presses his lips to the top of my head, and there’s that pang again.
I want a real kiss.
— CHAPTER 14 —
MARKUS
Clara meets me at the airport onSaturdayafternoon. I almost told her she should save the long bus ride, but I sensed she really wanted this extra time with me. And when I see her waiting at the terminal, I’m more than glad she did.
My heart swells at the sight of her. She hasn’t noticed me yet, and I stop to take her in. She’s femininely dressed in a lively skirt and a cute blouse—like she knows I like—and her hair is loose, except for the small braid at the side. She’s a breathtaking vision. Innocent on the outside, yet everything but on the inside. My cock swells just at the idea of what I plan to do to her tonight, and it grows even more when I think about how much she’ll like it.
Her eyes trail over the terminal and light up the moment she spots me, glittering with happiness and brimming with tears. She starts running and I set off at a brisk pace, badly needing to feel her in my arms.
She crashes into me, making me stagger a step back from the force. Good thing she’s such a small woman. I wrap her in a tight hug and have to blink back a few tears myself as I pepper tiny kisses over her soft hair. “God, it’s good to see you.”
She’s right about me getting so caught up in work that I barely have the time to miss her. But the moment I leave the bubble, my heart aches for her, and I feel like an idiot for not seeing her sooner. I always do. Balancing my career and her—my lifelong dream and the woman I love—is a struggle I might never win.
She sniffles a little, pressing herself tighter against me. “It feels like it’s been forever.”
“I know.” After spending the whole summer together, we both got used to having each other around. For once, I actually think the transition when we parted was harder on me. She was with Grigory, but I was alone in my apartment for two weeks before leaving town for work, and the silence was blaring. No piano playing drifting from the music room, no bubbly laughter when she tousled my hair, or babbling chatter about whatever composer she was obsessed with. I even found myself missing her crying—just holding her and being there for her when she needed it.
But now I have her. And I hate that I have to leave again tomorrow. I wish I could take her with me, but she needs to focus on her studies and get back into a routine. It would be selfish to drag her away to another country when she’s just started to find her footing again.
I inhale a deep drag of her flowery scent before leaning back and taking her face between my hands. Mascara is smudged under her eyes, but she only looks more beautiful because of it. Vulnerable. A proof of the deep emotions she holds for me.
I lean down and press a long kiss against her lips. As her tongue darts out to intertwine with mine, I can’t help myself. Fisting her hair, I deepen the kiss, invading her mouth with a force that renders any movement on her part all but impossible. I love taking her like this. I love the feeling of her surrender even more.
She melts against me, pliant in every bone and muscle as she opens up for my dominance—welcoming it. Submissive to the bone, my lovely Clara.
When the first moan leaves her mouth, I break the kiss. Otherwise, she’ll be moaning loudly in a few seconds. Sometimes, she doesn’t even realize it until the kiss ends and she looks around and sees someone staring. That’s how much control I have over her. And despite loving her blushing, this is not the right time with her being emotional from our reunion.
I wipe the mascara from her cheeks—for her sake—and take her hand. “Let’s go.”
She beams up at me as we start walking, her lips deep red from the force of our kiss, her eyes slightly glazed from the submission I’ve roused in her.
“Was it a good trip?” she asks.
I steer her out through the revolving doors to the front where the buses stop, and we both set into a run when we see that our bus is about to leave.
We make it just in time, and when we sit next to each other on the moving bus, both panting, I pull her close and kiss the top of her head. “Now it is.”
***
Clara has prepared a hearty beef stew—one of my favorite dishes—before I came, and she starts heating it on the stove and setting the table once we get to her place.
I take my time getting settled, unpacking a few things and getting comfortable after not having been here for almost five months.
I’m lying on the bed, resting my eyes for a minute, when she suddenly asks, “Have you ever played with gags?”
I chuckle at her abrupt question. “Nah, I find them crude.”
“Oh, okay,” she mutters, sounding unsure.
Her reaction makes me realize my mistake. Clara only blurts things out of the blue when she’s nervous. This was not just a curious question. My little sub wants to try being gagged. I get out of bed and walk up behind her, slipping my hands around her waist as I softly say, “Was it something that you wanted to try?”
“No,” she says too quickly, revealing her true answer. “I was just curious.”
“You know, Grigory loves gags. I think you should talk to him about it.”
