Page 10 of Redbird

“That’s a deadly combination. I don’t know what I’d do.”

I love it when he’s relaxed and I can hear the amusement like a current beneath his voice. It used to be such a rare thing to see his humanity.

Now, I see it flashing here and there, like the sun darting from behind the clouds. When we married, I thought I loved Sovereign as deeply as I could. But watching him be a father to my son has made me realize it’s possible to love him more deeply still.

CHAPTER FOUR

GERARD

She’s sweet and flustered as we put the horses away. She always is Sunday nights—she knows what happens when I get her up to our room. I watch her from the corner of my eye. Noting the flush of her cheeks and the way she works her lower lip with her teeth.

The way she looks everywhere, but at me.

I send her inside and finish locking up the barn. When I’m done, I move slowly through the house and lock the windows and doors. Mostly to give her time to get ready for me.

Then, I head upstairs.

The door to our bedroom is ajar. On the far, opposite side of the hall is Cash’s room. The house has thick walls and noise doesn’t travel from one side to the other. Still, I make sure to shut our door and lock it firmly.

My breath catches as my eyes fall on my wife. She’s on her knees at the end of the bed.

Beautiful, curvy body in a little, lace thing. The kind I have to work not to tear with the calluses on my palms. My leather collar sits around her neck, her red hair spilling over her back and shoulders. Her palms are open and laid out on her thighs and her eyes are lowered.

I go to her and rest my fingertips on the top of her head. She keeps still while I stroke her hair. Then I tap her head twice and she releases her perfect posture, leaning into my leg. Trustingly, she rubs her cheek against my thigh.

“You stay here while I shower, redbird,” I tell her.

“Yes, sir.”

This is the part she loves most. The waiting. The anticipation of knowing what’s coming, but not when. The part that gets her so wet it leaves glittering arousal on the floor between her knees.

I take my time. Instead of putting on my sweats, I opt for my good pants and shirt. She loves it when I punish her while still fully dressed.

I push the bathroom door open and lean in the doorway. Her head stays down.

“How were you this week?”

She bites her lip, working it. “I think…good, sir.”

“You think? Either you were or you weren’t.”

She squirms. “I was.”

I cross the room and take the leather strip with the implements inside from the dresser. We’ve added a few things here and there, namely a riding crop that she loves. It cracks like a gunshot, but never breaks her delicate skin. It only leaves little pink marks over her soft, round ass and thighs.

A quiver moves through her when I touch the looped end between her breasts. And drag it up to her chin and use it to lift her eyes to mine.

They’re wide and deep blue. So sweet.

“Where do you want it, redbird?” I ask.

She gasps as the looped end trails back down her neck. Over her stomach and between her thighs. I trace the wet seam of her pussy, back and forth.

“Focus,” I say.

“Um, in the chair,” she whispers. “Sir.”

“Good girl,” I praise. “How?”

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