Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
“Walk me through your thought process, please?” he requested.
I raked my teeth across my bottom lip. “I’m thinkin’ about the intimacy level and where I’d potentially run into problems. Checking his body for injuries, holding him, telling him he did good, staying in touch for a few days to keep an eye on things…communicating with his Owner—”
“Oh, but he’s single. In our scenario,” he clarified.
I stiffened. “Why?”
“Why not?”
Because… Because single players were naturally more open to accepting attraction.
“I don’t want any complications, fictional scenario or not,” I told him. “You know what? Call it a boundary. The day we decide to include someone else for whatever play we have in mind, he needs to be partnered up.”
Approval flashed in his eyes, and he grinned softly. “I actually think that’s a great idea, honey.”
He did?
Huh.
Maybe I could un-fucking-clench a little. I wasn’t on trial here.
“We’re not ready yet, Ash.” He grabbed my hand on the table and squeezed it. “I’m not ready to share you.”
That felt absurdly good to hear, because he often came off as way more open than I felt.
“All I want is for us to talk,” he said. “The more we discuss things, the better we can prepare ourselves, find our limits, set boundaries, and get used to the idea.”
I knew he was right. He was right. I had nothing to freak out about because I could pump the brakes whenever I needed to.
I cleared my throat and shifted in my seat. “Have you thought of any boundaries?”
“A couple.” He nodded and dropped his other hand to mine, and he cradled it in both his. “I always want to protect us and what we have. I need a barrier of some sort that separates us from whoever we end up playing with.”
I liked all those words. “I’m listenin’.”
“The first one is easy. Protection. We always wear condoms for sex with others.”
Whoa, okay, so he was already thinking about sex.
“We should always play together too,” he went on. “I don’t think I can handle you going off with a Little without me there.”
Yeah, my discomfort was back. I just wasn’t sure I was wired for including others, even casually. It caused a rift in my mind, because on the one hand, I didn’t believe I was capable of exploring Daddykink and remaining stone-faced. I’d want to be close to my Little. I’d need intimacy and honesty and a strong bond. And on the other hand, the thought of sharing that with someone else made me wanna hurl. I had Nathan, and he was all I wanted.
I coughed and stared at our hands. “Have we been here an hour yet?”
It sure felt like it, as opposed to…what, fifteen minutes? Ten?
“Yes,” he surprised me by saying. “Maybe even longer.” He withdrew his hands and took a big swig of his beer. “Take me home, love. I think we need a movie night on the couch.”
Thank fuck. I could’ve kissed his damn feet.
A couple of months later
Boston
Nathan Mills
“I want us to be those parents who travel the country in an RV,” Ash murmured.
I smiled and looped the thin jute rope around his middle finger. Finger bondage was my latest obsession, and he didn’t mind being my guinea pig.
“I like that.” I lowered the volume on the TV. We weren’t watching the movie anyway. “Explore a bunch of national parks and—oh, we should get one of those National Parks Passports.”
He dropped his gaze to what I was doing, and he tried to wriggle his fingers. “What’s that?”
“Like a little book you collect stamps in from the parks you visit.”
The harness was almost done.
“That’s cool,” he said. “So is this. You’ve gotten damn good at ropework.”
It was my drug of choice, no doubt. I couldn’t get enough.
The days he let me tie him up properly, like a chest harness or something similar, nothing could describe my inner peace. And then, when I removed the rope and saw the marks along his perfect body… God.
“Can you imagine having this done on your toes?” I asked. “And a masochist would obviously be forced to put on his shoes.”
“Oof. There’s a Sadist in you, baby. Make it coconut rope, and we really got something.”
Fuck. That would be painful. Add a bit of perspiration too. Man, the chafing.
“Flex your fingers again,” I instructed. “Any tingling?”
He complied and shook his head. “No. It’s tight, but it’s not a bad feelin’.”
Perfect. I’d leave it on for a while so those little rope marks would create a design on his skin.
“What’s your favorite kind of rope?” he asked.
“Five-ply twisted jute,” I responded right away. “But it depends on the purpose. If I’m doing suspension bondage, I’ll go with hemp. And I haven’t left nylon behind either. I love it for more decorative work.”
He smiled. “My rope nerd.”
I chuckled.
This was my favorite kind of Friday night. Just him and me on the couch, some movie running in the background, takeout containers on the coffee table, my man with a beer or a whiskey, and…just talking about the future. Or bondage. I’d never tire of discussing rope.