Later, she falls asleep with her head on my pillow, her breath against my lips, and her leg hooked around my hip.
I watch her sleep, unwilling to close my eyes, refusing to erase the sight of her.
During my darkest moments, my love for her kept my mind from sinking into the mire. As deep as I fell, she was my solid ground, steadying me, lifting me back on my feet.
The feelings I harbor for her will never end. Not when my body ceases to function. Not when my soul releases for whatever comes next. Even in death, I won’t let her go.
She’s my serenity and my fire, my first and last breath.
Lying beside her is my favorite place, and for the rest of my life and into the next, she’s all mine.
The next night, Maybe stands naked in the stable with her forehead against the wooden support beam. I prowl a circuit around her, fingers clenching the crop, heart thumping, and adrenaline coursing through my veins. This must be what a cat feels like while waiting to pounce on a mouse.
My belt binds her wrists in front of her, preventing her from pushing me away. My rope binds her ankles, restraining her from running. Not that she would. She wants this badly, evidenced by the wetness glistening on her inner thighs.
“Tell me why we’re here.” I pause behind her.
“Because it pleases you.”
Goddamn, I love this woman. “Not a lie, but it’s the wrong answer.”
“Because you’re cruel.” She shifts her weight, wagging that gorgeous ass at me.
I burn to welt all that pristine skin. It’s been so fucking long since I played with her.
Leaning over her back, I put my mouth at her ear. “Try again.”
She shivers and rolls her brow against the post. “Because I risked my life when I went to your dad’s house.”
“And…”
“I didn’t call you for help.”
I kiss her shoulder, igniting more shivers. “You’re independent and remarkably brave. I will never try to suppress that. But we’re a team, Maybe. You and me. We’ll face every battle together from now on.”
“As equals.” She shoots a narrowed glare over her shoulder.
“Yeah.” A grin pulls my lips, loaded with affection. “As equals.”
She straightens away from the pole, squaring her shoulders. Nothing restrains her to it except my will. She’ll stand there and submit to my mouth and teeth, my hands and words, and my pleasure and punishment.
“Tell me your safe word.” I step back, flicking the crop against my leg as blood rushes to my groin.
“Stop.”
“What happens when you use it?”
“You untie me.” She twists her neck and gives me a foxy smirk. “Then you’ll take me to bed and love me forever.”
Excitement glows on her face and in her voice, and my cock jerks against my zipper.
No more waiting.
She gulps when the first strike lands. By the sixth swing, her ass blooms with pink welts.
I check on her expression between hits, and it doesn’t take long for her eyes to drift. With each added whack, she stiffens slightly, then falls into a deeper calm, a softer peace, waiting to obey me.
Ten minutes in, her body sags with a peaceful energy. Some people need pain to be free. Others need to deliver it to harness a sense of control. We’re not those people. We simply enjoy walking along the edge of our comfort zones, challenging each other, and flirting with endorphin-induced pleasure.
When we’re playing, it isn’t about sex. It’s about expression, discovery, and catharsis. But after?
We have the best fucking sex in the wake of a good beating.
I drop the crop and tackle my fly. Then I take her, slamming into her tight, hot cunt from behind and losing my ever-loving mind. I thrust and bite and squeeze her tits, rutting against her like an animal.
She loves it, and I love her, any way and any chance I can have her.
A hard fuck, a vanilla tumble, a red welt, a tender kiss—I love her in all the colors and levels of intensity, and she lets me.
I’m a lucky son of a bitch.
The anticipation is a nervous kind of energy. It tingles through the four of us like an electric current, jolting my heart and lifting the tiny hairs on my arms.
We stand shoulder to shoulder outside Oklahoma State Penitentiary, awaiting Lorne’s release. I’m so fucking giddy I want to run, shout, and tell the world how momentous this day is. I can’t even fathom how Jarret, Jake, and Conor must feel.
They stare at the gate, as if their brains are on fast-forward without an off switch. Lorne will walk out of that hell any second. He’ll climb into Jake’s truck and go home for the first time in eight years.
Eight goddamn years.
Conor talked to him yesterday, updating him on everything that transpired in the past couple of days. Raina is still holed up in his room, refusing to speak, eat, or leave the bed. Lorne said to leave her alone and he’d deal with it when he got home.