“Ah, Allie . . . baby . . .”

She watched as his face went loose with pleasure, as the same pleasure coursed through her. He began to move and she moved with him, every lovely motion liquid, sinuous, as though they moved with one body. One desire.

He turned them both until she lay on top of him, their hands still clasped above their heads. He surged up into her, his cock instantly hitting her G-spot. Pleasure blazed, searing her as the need to come took her over once more. She paused at that keen, lovely edge.

“I can feel you, baby girl. So hot inside. I can feel you . . . clench around me. Come for me, baby. Come with me.”

“Yes . . .”

She let it happen as he bucked into her over and over, her climax flooding her until she was drunk with pleasure, drunk with him. And she felt the stinging current of his own climax inside her as he called her name.

“Allie . . . my baby . . . my girl.”

He let her hands free and wrapped her in his arms, holding her tight. He kissed her hair, his breath rough against her cheek, then he took her face in his palms and kissed her hard. His sweet tongue slid into her mouth, and they were making out as they’d done in high school—everything that hot, that desperate even now, after they’d both come. But the need was more about the pure need to be together. To love each other.

Finally they slowed down, until it was simply one soft kiss after another. A press of lips, a slow delicious glide of tongues. Finally he held her head to his chest. His heart was a hammering beat against her cheek. Everything about the moment was exactly what she needed.

They lay together while the rain fell outside—she could hear the soft patter against the leaves in her garden. Could almost feel the rain and the clouds like a soft blanket holding them in the city’s arms. And knew, finally, she was home.

*   *   *

THEY’D HAD A glorious week together—or almost. Mick had been called away for work on Thursday night. It was Saturday night and Allie couldn’t wait to see him. But the anticipation of seeing him again wasn’t the only cause of the butterflies in her stomach, the breathlessness that was making her dizzy as she knelt on the floor at the foot of the big four-poster bed behind her.

He had told her he’d arrive at The Bastille at nine o’clock, and she knew it must be nearly nine. She glanced around the Victorian-themed room, where he’d instructed her to wait for him—the damask wallpaper, the carved furnishings, then down at the ornate red-and-gold Persian rug. She knew she’d done exactly as he’d asked—dressed in the ivory silk waist-cincher corset that had arrived at her house that morning, and nothing else. But in her hand she held the one surprise she had for him.

Her fingers stroked over the leather, and she inhaled, taking in the earthy scent.

If only he would hurry. But it was Mick, and she knew he wouldn’t.

She closed her eyes and took in a slow breath, exhaled the way she’d been taught, trying to center herself. And had barely managed to get her pounding heart to calm when she heard the door open.

Mick.

“Good girl.”

Ah, the words that always made her melt, and he knew it. She felt her body yielding, her mind following. Her heart was already there.

She looked up and smiled at him as he drew her to her feet. He was so handsome in his dark jeans, his black shirt rolled up at the cuffs, revealing the strong muscles of his forearms. Then those arms were around her, and she was being crushed against the hard planes of his chest as his mouth came down on hers. He kissed her hard, bit her lip, drew it out between his teeth before letting it go to bury his head in her neck. He kissed the tender skin, bit her there, letting his teeth sink in just until she gasped.

He pulled back, smiling at her. “I missed you, baby girl.”

“I missed you.”

He stroked her hair. “Are you ready for tonight?”

“Yes. I’m ready.”

“I can tell you’re sinking down already, Allie. I hear it in your voice. I see it in your eyes. In the flush of your pretty skin.”

“Yes, Mick.”

He ran his hands over her arms. “Hey. What have we here?” he asked as he found the leather blindfold.

“It’s my gift to you.”

His brows drew together, emotion in his intense gray gaze. “Allie, are you certain you want this?”

“I trust you, Mick. I needed to show you. This was the only way I could think of.”

“Baby, you know we don’t renegotiate once we’re in scene, once you’re subspaced.”

“I bought this the other day, a few hours after you left. I made the decision then. I love you so much. And I can’t really love you without the trust, can I? I have to believe we’re working together on whatever our future will become. I have to believe in you. And because I do, I don’t have anything to be afraid of, do I?”

“Not from me. I promise you that. Never again.”

“I know it. So please, Mick. Cover my eyes and let tonight be a mystery of sensation for me. I want to let go of this last boundary. With you. Only with you.”

He stroked a hand along her jaw, his gaze holding hers. “My baby.”

“Yes,” she said softly, her heart filled with love.

He led her to the high bed and sat her on the edge of it while he went to get his rope bag that she’d brought with her. Her body was softening all over, waiting for the night to begin. To feel the embrace of the ropes. His ropes.

Mick.

He laid the different lengths of well-washed jute on the bed in their bundles while she waited, then he turned to her. He leaned in and kissed her eyes closed, then he slipped the leather over them and tied the blindfold at the back of her head. There was no panic for her—only a sensation of lightness, then focus as she became aware of her individual senses. She smelled the citrusy scent of the soap he used, took in the distant beat of the trance music playing in the club somewhere, the quiet cadence of his breathing. Felt the soft cotton sheets on the bed beneath her thighs. The corset tight around her waist, forcing her to sit up straighter, to breathe into the upper portion of her lungs. And her body was responding in some unexpected way—her nipples going hard, her sex damp.

No panic. Only utter trust and exquisite desire.

She gasped softly as Mick kissed her shoulders, her bare breasts, before she felt the mattress give as he got onto the bed behind her.

He drew her arms behind her, crossed behind the small of her back, and the first loop of rope slid around her wrists. With her eyes covered she felt the silky slip and pull of the rope even more keenly. Felt Mick’s command more acutely. Knew in a new way that she was his.

He pulled the rope through her arms, binding them together from wrist to elbow. And with each moment her body let loose a little more, sank into the giving of herself to his command.

When her arms were secure, he slid more rope beneath her breasts, making a chest harness, binding her breasts, the rope winding over and under and ending in a series of knots between them. She felt the bed shifting as he got off it, then his hand gripping the rope between her breasts. All at once his knuckles dug into her flesh as he pulled her to her feet.

“Oh!”

But she was melting, loving being handled this way, his hands rough on her. He yanked her in close to his body, his knuckles biting into her flesh. The pain released a lovely rush of endorphins, and even though she was already in subspace, she was aware of her head growing lighter in a way she never had been before. The blindfold made it all the more intense. Lovely.

“You good, baby girl? Tell me,” he demanded.

“Yes. So good, Mick.”

“Excellent.”

He pulled hard on the chest harness again, and she stumbled, but he caught her. He did it again, and again, his knuckles digging in hard as she lost her footing, as he righted her against his solid frame. And she came to realize distantly that it was all working to gain her trust even more—the way he caught her each time. She knew he would never let her fall. She smiled to herself.