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“Thank you,” I say again. “Because you trust me. You believe me. You accept that my life is mine, that my body is mine, that I’m the only person in the world who truly knows what I need.”
My voice shakes. My eyes sting. But I have to say the rest. I have to let him know the truth. I have to free him.
“I said those things because I believed them. Because everything I’d lived through showed me one dark path. But now I’ve seen more. I have so much to tell you, so much I need to say. But this is the one thing that’s most important: I was wrong.”
He freezes. He’s suspended in a space outside of time. I feel it in his fingers. I feel it in the sudden pulse that leaps above his throat.
“I was wrong,” I say again. “I was so hurt, so broken, so confused… Seeing Jonas and Ansel at the club… Losing control on the auction block… Looking for you… Needing you…”
I can’t build a sentence, can’t say what I want to say. Trap swallows hard. His eyes are gleaming. He’s straining to hold back, to keep from speaking, to give me the time and space I need to find my words.
I accept his gift. I steady myself with a single breath. And then I leap into the future becausehewas brave, because he went first. “The things we do here, the scenes, the play… you opened that door for me. You taught me what my body needs to be alive.”
His lips part. He starts to speak, but I settle a finger across his lips. He waits, because that’s what I ask him to do. He waits because he loves me. And I tell him the rest, because it’s what he deserves to know. “So when I was back in that house, when I was swamped by the memory of pain I couldn’t control… I thought you could help me through it. You could be my guide. You could be my angel.”
“A— And now?” Trap’s voice is stretched.
“Now I know I was wrong. Herzog hurt because he could. Because he made an art of cruelty. Because he had no limits.”
I’m so close to the end. So close to what I need to say. If I wanted to, I could close my eyes now. I could step off the edge and fall and fall and fall and know Trap will be there when I land.
But I don’t want to close my eyes.
I don’t want to step off the edge.
I want to stand here, to be here, to own the words I choose to say.
“I was wrong to push you. I was wrong to think you’d be like Herzog. You have limits. That’s why I trust you. That’s why I’m a stronger person with you. That’s why I love you.”
I can’t help it. Tears spill over and start to run down my cheeks. But he gave me the words I need, the words I want to share forever.
“I love you, Travis Prince. And I’ll be the woman you need me to be for as long as you’ll have me in your life.”
I think his kiss will steal my breath away. Instead, his lips are tender. Sweet. He tastes me like I’m the most precious nectar from the rarest flower in the world.
He eases me to the side of the bed. We sink onto the mattress together. He pets me, strokes me, worships the lines of my body. I quiver beneath his palms, humming with an inner light.
I want to feel the weight of his chest. I need to feel his legs tangled between mine, his knee pressing mine to the side. I sink back on the bed, pulling him with me, never wanting to let him go.
He leans on one forearm. He traces my hair across my forehead, around the curve of one ear. He bends forward and lowers his lips to my breasts and settles the softest kiss in the world against the cane’s angry mark. He traces the line end to end, his fingertips as soft as feathers.
“It’s okay,” I whisper. “I won’t break.”
“You’ll never break,” he growls. “You’re the strongest woman I know.”
His eyelashes are frosted with unshed tears as I pull him close for another kiss. His thighs press against mine until I shift my hips. My knees spread to carve a basket for his weight. Keeping one hand cupped to the back of his neck, I reach between us. My fingers find his ready cock and guide it to my deep wet heat.
I gasp as he enters me. He shudders as we fit together. I rock my hips to build a better angle, and he sinks all the way home.
His hands are planted on the mattress, on either side of my head. My palms flatten on his back, feeling his muscles ripple, measuring his restraint. I tighten around his heat, squeezing to set him free.
He swears because he’s Trap. He whispers filthy things as he reads my eyes. He rides me, steady and hard, each thrust finding some new way to bring us closer together.
There’s nothing between us—no condom, no leather, no toys to break our focus. There’s only his body and mine, moving together, giving and taking, mastering perfect balance. This is more intimate than all the screaming orgasms we’ve ever shared. The intensity is a furnace blast, so strong, so pure, so intenselytruethat the rest of the universe spins away to nothingness.
He’s pumping faster. Thrusting harder. Spinning tighter, with every muscle in his body. I’m matching him, push for push, taking everything he has to give. His face pulls tight. His neck arches back. He rises up one last time and he’s framed above me, poised inside me, and I catch my breath to hold with his.
He shifts his weight to one strong wrist. He reaches down between us, to our perfect meld. He sets a fingertip against my thrumming clit, and he grits a single word: “Come.”
