Page 78 of Rock On

“Deal.”

“That’s it.” I shrugged my shoulders. “I already know you’re never going to truly hurt me. I love when you leave marks on my neck. I love when you spank me. I love when you call me dirty names while you’re inside me. I love when you hold my head and deep throat me… I just want it to be in private most of the time, and I never, ever want to share you or be shared.”

He put his hands on either side of my face. “Swear it.”

“I swear it.”

“On your son.”

My eyes widened and I hesitated.

Were those really my only limits?

Did I have any others?

Did he want me to go back to things we’d discussed when we first got together?

“I mean, I’m still not interested in anything to do with poop or knife play or anything like that. I thought that was a given.”

He nodded. “Yeah, the limits we had back in the day still apply, I guess. But you’ve still left a ton of shit on the table.”

“And I want to do it all.” I licked my lips. “I love you, Tommy. More than anything except River. And that means I trust you more than anyone in the world too.”

He was quiet for what felt like a long time, even though it was probably only about thirty seconds. “Then will you trust me to try something different? Something we haven’t done in a long time?”

“I swear to god, if you say missionary with the lights out…”

He pressed a soft kiss on the tip of my nose. “Nothing quite that tame. But I need to try some things you might not be expecting.”

“Yes.” It was always that simple.

I was nervous for a million different reasons, but none of them had anything to do with being afraid of him or him physically hurting me.

“Can I take you to bed, baby?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

“This knee is pissing me off,” he muttered. “Because I’d kill to be able to pick you up and carry you the rest of the way.”

I chuckled. “Think of the tour and imagine you’re carrying me in your mind. I think I’ll survive walking back to your room on my own.”

“My room?”

“Sure. Why not?”

“I don’t know. I thought maybe you’d be more comfortable in yours.”

“I’m comfortable with you.”

He laced his fingers with mine.

“Me too.”

“I was afraid maybe I wouldn’t be, but I am. It doesn’t feel awkward or like we’re divorced or like it’s been three years. It just feels like… us.”

“Technically, it hasn’t been three years. We screwed in a cemetery three weeks ago and we’ve spent the last few weeks together almost nonstop.”

He pulled his key card out of his pocket when we got to his door, and he let me walk in ahead of him.

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