Page 182 of Sin & Sapphire

I nodded, my heart in my throat.

He leaned his forehead against mine. “This is—” He stopped and cleared his throat before stepping back and cupping my cheek, his thumb stroking over my cheekbone. “Terrifying,” he finished with a wry smile.

“Agreed,” I whispered back, holding his gaze. “Valentin, please. You promised me anything. And this is what I need.”

“You’re so fucking brave,” he said, and brushed his lips over mine. “I love that.” He pulled away and frowned. “I loveyou.”

“Je t’aime aussi,” I murmured as I lifted my hand to smooth out the furrow in his brow. I love you too.

“And your safeword?”

“Vanilla,” I said with a grin.

“I owe you a punishment,” he murmured. “You left us. You lied to us. And you broke a fucking plate this morning.”

“To be fair, the plate was to get your attention,” I sassed back. “And it worked.”

Valentin kissed me, a gentle exploration, his lips moving against mine. When I lifted my arms to wrap them around his neck, he angled my face so he could lick at my lips. Longing, sweet and painful, had me opening my mouth to invite him in.

Our kiss turned frantic, and I bit him, needling him to do what I wanted.

Valentin wrenched away from me, his pupils blown and his eyes hooded, as we both caught our breath.

“Toy,” he growled.

“Maître,” I breathed, a frisson of fear working its way up my spine, as terrified of his reaction as I was thrilled that he was coming back to me.

“What’s your safeword?” he asked.

“Vanilla,” I answered confidently, then leaned forward to lap up the drop of blood tempting me as it pooled on his lip.

“Strip,” he snapped.

“Angel,” Angelo breathed beside me. “Are you sure?”

“Stop treating me like I’m made out of glass,” I said, “and fuck me, already.”

Angelo laughed and helped me climb off the stool. For all my bravado, I was still healing.

Luca helped too, slipping the silk shirt over my shoulders as Angelo helped me with my leggings. The swift movements made me wince with pain, but the hurt was outshined by the heady anticipation of Valentin’s punishment.

I wanted it.

I needed it.

“Go bend over the couch,” Valentin ordered me.

I stopped and turned around, marching right back up to him, butterflies swirling in my stomach as he took in the bounce of my breasts, the curve of my hip, the curls between my legs.

“Maître,” I said softly. “Look at me, please.”

Love shone out of his eyes as he did as I asked.

“Do you love me?”

He nodded.

“Would you ever intentionally hurt my heart?”

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