Page 45 of After Dark
And he carried her over their threshold and took her straight into the living room, where he set her down on that rug before his chair.
She stood there, automatically assuming one of the presentation positions, as Arlo moved around her and made a low sort of noise that she could feel in her bones was his approval.
“You’re my wife,” he said. “I am your husband. It’s all legal now, Josette. If you want to divorce me, you’ll have to find a lawyer. And as you know, I already have thebest one.”
That made her smile. “You do.”
“Marrying you was a life goal for me,” he told her. He tilted his head, and she felt that shift. That spark. “It’s been achieved. But that’s not the only thing that’s between the two of us, is it?”
She found herself smiling wide. “No, sir. No, it is not.”
“Strip, please,” he said.
And just like that, the formalities were in play.
He had dressed her today, so there was a certain symmetry to her undressing herself for him. He had chosen a dress with a very short shift beneath a gauzy outer layer, so on the one hand she was wearing something long and frothy—but he’d also been able to see her beneath it.
This, it was clear, was very important to him.
Josette loved it. She pulled the dress off and, as usual, she was naked beneath it. She went over to the chair and because she could not fold the dress neatly, draped it carefully over the back instead.
She returned to her position and stepped out of her shoes, then went and placed them neatly by the chair.
Then she was fully naked save the rings he put on her left finger.
“Beautiful,” he said. “Now kneel, please, Josette. Prepare yourself.”
And then he left her there, her heart pounding, to wait for his return.
Chapter Twelve
Arlo was a married man and it felt fucking great.
But he went into his office because he needed the butt plug again. That studded paddle that she’d probably have a love-hate relationship with forever.
And much more importantly, the last item that the day required.
He went out with all of them and found her kneeling prettily where he’d left her.
And she was still an angel as far as he was concerned. A dirty little angel, a slutty one—so really, in every way that mattered, perfect for him.
Maybe that word suited them after all.
He loved her pale skin and the dusting of all those freckles. He loved that bright red ass of hers and found himself even harder than usual as he beheld her, kneeling there with her palms open and facing up on her thighs, her knees wide.
If it was the last thing he did, he would fuck the shame she’d gotten from her childhood right out of her.
He was pretty sure he was halfway there.
The idea that his girl could think that she was unworthy of being loved for exactly who she was made him furious.
But it also sounded like a call to action inside of him. Because this, he could fight. This, he could win. And he would.
“We’re not going to have a typical marriage, you and me,” he told her, moving around to set two of the items on the chair before her, so she could contemplate them.
That butt plug. Her paddle.
It pleased him to see the goosebumps prickling to life down her neck. “We’re going to haveourmarriage and it’s going to be kinky as fuck. I might be too bossy. We might not get along sometimes. At the end of every day, or as soon as we both get back from wherever we might be, we will end up here. You on your knees. Me standing here. Reminding ourselves who we are.”
