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“I could have hurt you that time.”
“You’ll never hurt me. You took care of me. But I might be a little sore tomorrow.”
He pulled out of me and patted my welted ass as he sprawled beside me on the floor. “More than a little sore tomorrow. I have to take things slower. We can build to these kinds of sessions over time. Maybe we can even build to The Gallery.” He frowned at me, his head propped on his hand. “I’m sorry I flipped out and dragged you out of there tonight.”
I stroked his cheek. “You can’t do this every time things get intense. You can’t feel guilty for the things you do to me. You’re not a monster or a predator. You’re the man I love, and there’s nowhere else I’d rather be than here on…on your dungeon floor.” I looked down at my wrecked, exhausted limbs and laughed. “With my ankles bound and my chin full of gag drool, and my neck full of bruises.”
“There won’t be bruises,” he said quickly. “I’ll never choke you that hard.”
We both laughed then. How many lovers had these kinds of conversations?
“Just don’t worry so much,” I told him. “I have a great time with you in this dungeon, even when things get intense. I’ve always wanted to be close to you, crazy close, even when we were kids and I didn’t know what my feelings meant.” I took his face and made him look at me. “So I love your roughness now. I love your edge, your passion. I love that you want to hurt me.”
“You little pervert.”
“I love it all, because I know you’ll never hurt me too much. I want you to teach me, to train me to do even harder sessions than these. You started, and I want you to keep going. I want us to do this together, violent sexual urges and everything. It makes me feel very…well…very wanted and desired.”
“You are very wanted and desired.” He traced the lines of my Gallery uniform, over the garter belt lace and beading, and down the suspenders to the silk tops of my stockings. “And I love you for doing these things with me, Alice. I never would have thought you’d allow me to…” He gave a rueful laugh. “I’ll get used to it. I’ll get over the guilt thing.” He sobered and kissed me, lingering over my lips. “I never thought I’d be able to debase you this way, and have you enjoy it, but you’re full of mystery and surprises, Lala Nyquist. You’ve always accepted me as I am. Why would this be any different?”
“It’s possible there was a secret masochist inside me, waiting to be let out.”
He laughed, one of the loud, raucous laughs he rarely shared with the world. “I’m sure there was some masochist inside you. Otherwise you would have run far away from me by now.” He traced my leg, down to my ankle, his beautiful lips pursed with a combination of embarrassment and joy. “I guess I should let you go.”
“Maybe. As much as I enjoy playing in here with you, the floor gets kind of hard.”
“We’ll have some soft carpets installed,” he joked, leaning to unbuckle the cuffs around my ankles. “Anything for my masochist’s comfort.” He took off one of my shoes with a whistle. “You did a number on these, baby.”
The toes and sides of my patent leather stilettos were scuffed to the point of disaster. “I may have kicked around a little while you were riding my ass. I’m surprised the stockings made it through intact.”
He took off the other shoe and looked at them together as I stretched my legs and sat up. “Well, we can get you another pair of stilettos if we ever want to go back to The Gallery.”
“It’s okay if you don’t want to. Or…” I forced the words out, out of love for him. “If you had to go with someone else, you know, to do your sharing thing without me.”
He was already shaking his head. “I don’t have to go to The Gallery. You’re more important in my mind.”
“I just don’t want you to feel like you’re missing out.”
“How could I feel that with you?” he asked, cupping my chin. His fingers strayed down to my neck, where he’d gripped me so possessively. “We’ll be away next weekend anyway.”
“I’m so excited for Italy,” she said, her eyes shining. “And seeing the Fierro castle again.”
“It’s not a castle.”
“I like to think of it as a castle. It’s so stony and rocky and rugged.” I took his hand as he helped me up. “Like you.”
He held me against him and I buried my face in his neck, reveling in his warmth and scent, and the closeness I’d dreamed of for so long. “And I’m excited to play my violin for everyone,” I added. “The violin with your heart.”
He probably thought I meant the heart he’d hidden in the wood grain and varnish, and I did, but I also meant the heart of his efforts, building it to fit me perfectly. Everything about us fit perfectly, and the violin would always stand as a symbol of our love, even if we fell out of love, or didn’t stay together.
But that wouldn’t happen. I held him tighter, drifting in his protective embrace, listening to the steady beat of his heart.
Chapter Nineteen: Milo
Iwent toThe Gallery on my Monday lunch break to meet with Fort about the clock. He claimed he could fix it, even though it had stubbornly resisted working for years. It was strange to walk through the rococo lobby during daylight, without Rene manning the door. I let myself into the inner sanctum, winding up the stairs, hearing only silence rather than the screams and moans of normal Gallery operation.
“I’m over here,” Fort called as I appeared. He was doing pull-ups on the square rack I’d attempted to use over the weekend. He jumped down and crossed the empty dungeon floor. “Just checking the racks for stability.”
“It’d take an earthquake to bring those down. The clock, on the other hand…”
