Landry laughed and wiped his hand on Cris’ stomach. “Look at that. What a pitiful man you are. Needing to watch your Master fucking his wife—your ex-girlfriend—to get off. You are a natural cuck, aren’t you?”
Tilly felt her stomach turn a little. She knew damn well it wasn’t the situation that got Cris off, but Landry’s careful training and conditioning. While at first this seemed like a grand idea, maybe they’d gone a little too far.
Landry turned to her and kissed her. “Can I coax one more out of you, baby?”
“No, I think I’ve had about as much fun as I can stand for one night.” Plus she knew Cris had been bound like that for over an hour and she worried he might lose circulation in his feet and legs. The Domme in her couldn’t turn that worry off once it’d clicked on. Sliding her hands down Landry’s back to his tight ass, she wiggled her hips. “Time for you to have some fun again.”
She loved his playful smirk as he slowly stroked. “He’s good for at least another hour tied up like that.”
“That’s fucking spooky.”
He nipped her neck. “You glanced at the clock.”
She dug her nails into his ass and squeezed. “You don’t miss much, do you?”
“Not anymore.” He rested his forehead against hers as he thrust. This time when he came his soft gasp as his body tensed was the only warning she had before his movements stilled. He pressed a gentle kiss to her brow. “I promise to be the best husband I can be, Tilly,” he whispered. “I’ll never leave you wanting for anything within my power to give you. I swear it.”
She closed her eyes and enjoyed the feeling of his warm, strong body wrapped around hers. “I’ll hold you to it.”
Cris silently watched them together, couldn’t hear their intimate whispers over the music.
Just a few weeks ago, that was him where Tilly lay, feeling safe and cherished. It felt like light years since then. If he’d simply let go of the past, let go of her, of all ties to her, they wouldn’t be here now. He had rarely gone more than a few days before he logged in to stare at the pictures of her, the only thing he had to remember her by other than his memories. How could he let go of her when he still loved her?
If it wasn’t for that selfish indulgence, Landry never would have known about her.
Finally, Landry stood and turned to him. He prepared for the next inevitable humiliation, but Landry untied him while Tilly pulled a sheet over herself and turned away, not watching.
Landry didn’t help him sit up after he freed him. He stared at Cris. “Did you enjoy that, slave?”
Cris didn’t reply despite knowing his silence might earn him another punishment.
Landry surprised him with a laugh. “Get your ass out of my bed, slave. You can go to bed in your room, but keep the door open. I want you to be able to hear anything else we might do.”
Cris nodded and carefully climbed out of bed, mindful of the pins and needles sensation in his feet. He heard Landry softly talking to her as he left the bedroom. The walk to his room felt more like a death march.
He hesitated inside the doorway. Before this weekend, even if not in Landry’s bed, at least they’d been in the same room. How long before he’d ever feel the warm comfort of his Master’s body again?
Or would he?
The empty bed mocked him. Yes, he could finally curl up on a mattress. Use covers to keep the chill away. Soft, comfortable pillows.
If given the chance, he’d take the hard floor next to his Master’s bed.
Slowly, he made his way to what to him amounted to solitary confinement and crawled under the covers.
Tilly couldn’t help but watch Cris when he left the bedroom. Landry slid back into bed with her and slipped his arms around her. His lips feathered along the back of her neck.
“What troubles you, love?”
“What’s his tat mean?”
“Hmm?”
“The Kanji character on his ass. What does it signify?”
Landry chuckled. “Why? Do you wish for one of your own?”
She knew her voice sounded sharper than she meant. “Quit kidding around.”
He sighed. “It means ‘slave’.”
“How long’s he had it?”
“Tilly, this is old—”
“Answer my fucking question.”
His lips hesitated on the nape of her neck. “Six months after he moved in with me, he saw another slave at one of the clubs we frequented get marked by their Master during a formal collaring ceremony, and he begged me to mark him as well. By that time we were living full time as Master and slave. I had already formally collared him.”
“Mark him?”
“Well, that slave was branded. I’m sorry, while I admit I am a sadist, I do draw the limit somewhere. I told him if he truly wanted to be marked, he could accept a tattoo or nothing at all. I was also realistic that if for whatever reason in the future we were no longer together, I wanted it to be something that would not be so instantly recognizable as to cause him grief, and in a discreet location.”
He snuggled her tightly. “May I ask why it is so important?”
“Because the other night at the club, when you first approached me, I saw it and it triggered a flashback. I didn’t realize it was him, just thought it was a very similar tat. He never told me what it meant. He always said he was drunk and couldn’t remember.”
“Hmm.” He chuckled. “I don’t know if I should punish him for that lie or not.”
“Please don’t. That’s not why I asked. I just wanted to know.”
He lay there quietly for a moment. “Are you all right?”
She took a deep breath. “Yeah.”
“You don’t sound like a woman pleased with herself.”
She rolled in his arms and buried her face against his chest. “I’m not,” she softly admitted.
He nuzzled the top of her head. She loved it when he did that. “Regretting this?”
“Give me a day or two to get back to you on that.” She felt his body tense and lifted her face to meet his gaze. “I meant the revenge, not marrying you. I absolutely do not regret marrying you.” She might have many regrets in her life, but marrying Landry wouldn’t ever be one of them.
She hoped.
She felt him relax as a smile creased his face. “You scared me, Mrs. LaCroux.”
A pleasant shiver raced through her body. “I definitely don’t regret being called that,” she whispered. She ran her fingers over the wedding band that coexisted with her engagement ring. Both so new, and yet it felt right. The sight of the matching band on his finger sent another pleasant chill through her.
He belonged to her, and she belonged to him.
At least for the next three years, she wouldn’t have to face being alone, waking up to an empty bed.
She had someone to love.
He kissed her, and while her body had hit its limit for the evening, her heart and soul filled and swelled with emotions she hadn’t been able to feel in too damn long.
“I’m glad to hear that,” he said. “Because I absolutely do not regret marrying you, either.”
Chapter Thirteen
When she awoke early Monday morning, Tilly instinctively sought out Landry and didn’t have far to move. She found him nestled behind her, his thighs pressed against the backs of hers. Her first night as a married woman, tightly cuddled in her husband’s arms, was everything she could have asked for.
If she didn’t count the sour presence pecking at her conscience.
Hurt Cris? Hell, yes, she wanted to pound the shit out of him. The softer side of her, the part of her that could still conjure compassion and empathy, felt more than a little sick at what they’d done.