Page 66 of Outside the Lines
I left my jizz on Ian’s chest and chin. I liked it there. Hell, I loved seeing him well fucked and still helpless, all bound up on the bed. I contemplated leaving him like that—a last touch of punishment—but that seemed unfair, so I removed the gag. I left him tied down while I kissed him, though.
Didn’t have to give him all freedoms back at once.
He devoured my mouth as ravenously as I kissed him. If we both hadn’t just come, we’d have probably been hard by the time we came up for air.
“That,” he said, “was something else.”
“Did you like it?”
“I hated it. I loved it. Please tie me up and fuck me again.”
I chuckled. “As often as you like.”
He leaned his head on the pillow. “And you’ve given meso manyideas for the next time I fuck you.”
I took my sweet time kissing him, drinking down his lips and tongue before I whispered against his lips, “As often as you like.”
He sighed and his limbs went slack. “Oh God, Si. I love you so much.”
This time, I knew he spoke the truth. “I love you too.”
We kissed and nipped and Ian fought against me and the cuffs a little longer, until we were both high on each other and totally exhausted. Eventually, I untied him and took the cuffs off. After we both cleaned ourselves up, we slid under the covers.
Ian wrapped shaky arms around me. “Do you forgive me?”
His cheek was hot against my palm and my heart tumbled over and over. “Yes, of course.” I found his lips and pressed a finger against them. “But next time, talk to me, Ian. Don’t run.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
His words were like glittering gold in the dark. I sighed against him, warm inside and out. “Good.” So good.
I woke up to the slight scent of coffee and the beautiful sight of Simon sleeping next to me. All the worry, all the pain of the past two weeks was gone. I wasn’t an afterthought, nor a fling. No idea if we’d make it to forever, but that option shone through our lives now.
Simon Derry was in love withme.
He was also out like a light. “Si?”
No response. I shifted in the bed, but Simon didn’t wake. He was breathing deeply, and utterly relaxed. While I wanted to curl up next to him, other physical needs motivated me to get out of bed. Simon snuggled deeper under the covers.
Sadly, I was completely awake by the time I exited the bathroom. I didn’t want to wake Si, so I snuck out of the room and headed down to the kitchen in search of the source of the lovely brewed coffee smell.
Lydia was perched on one of the stools at the kitchen island, bent over a thin laptop, her head in her hands. Her rounded shoulders shook, and I stopped short, because she was crying. Not loudly, but unmistakably.
Shit. Was it me? No. Couldn’t be. Not after the conversation over dinner. Still, nervousness etched itself into my bones. “Lyds?”
She started and glanced up. Yup, wet eyes. She wiped her tears away with her hands. “Oh, God, Ian. I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”
“No.” I covered the distance between us and stood by her side. “You okay?” Next to the laptop was a crumpled T-shirt. Looked like one of the new Wolf’s Landing ones.
“Um, yeah.” She hesitated. “Well . . . no. But it’s not you!”
Good. I knew. But good. “Sweetie, you wouldn’t have left me with Simon if it was.”
That earned me a chuckle and her smile, though another tear slipped from her eye.
“Let me get some coffee—then tell me about it?”
She nodded. “Okay—yeah. Maybe you can figure out how not to have Simon lose his mind over this.”
