Page 67 of Honeyfires

A muffled sound came from behind her hands.

"Vera." I pulled her hands away, tipping her chin up. "Why are you embarrassed? We've done significantly more embarrassing things than opening a box."

"It's different when it's in a box with a bow on it," she said, voice slightly hysterical. "It looks so official."

"It is official. I researched it."

"You researched it?"

"Extensively. There are review sites. Communities. People with very strong opinions about harness construction and stitching."

She stared at me. "You went on strap-on forums."

"For you? Yes. Absolutely yes. I would go back tomorrow."

She dissolved into laughter, the kind that took over her whole face, and I watched her and thought I love you for approximately the four hundredth time in recent weeks, and as usual, did not say it out loud. Just let it swarm heavily in my chest, where it had been living for months.

"Tell me what you want," I said when she'd recovered. "Whatever it is. You don't have to be embarrassed."

She took a breath. Her fingers twisted in her lap. The blush was still high but shifting into something else, eyes darkening, the composure she usually wore so easily falling away like she'd simply decided she didn't need it tonight.

"In my head," she started, "when I've imagined this—"

"Yeah?"

"You're holding me down." She said it steadily, looking right at me. "And I can't move. And you're—taking what you want. Not asking. Just—" She exhaled. "And I want your hand on my throat again. But this time I want to feel it more. I want you to—" She stopped, and I could see her choosing the words deliberately, the same care she gave everything that mattered. "I want to feel like you own me. Tonight."

The room was very quiet for a moment.

"Is that—"

"Vera." I held her face in both hands. "That is the opposite of a problem. That can absolutely be arranged, baby."

A full-body shiver moved through her.

"Safeword," I said.

"Parachute."

"Good girl." I held her gaze. "If my hand is on your throat and you need to stop, tap my arm twice. I'll feel it."

She nodded. "Two taps."

"Say it back."

"Two taps." Clear. Steady. Not afraid, but certain, which was very different.

"Good." I reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, letting my thumb rest against her jaw for one moment. Then I stood.

"On the bed," I said. "On your back. Arms above your head."

She moved immediately. Lay back against the pillows, arms sliding up, wrists crossed against the headboard, and looked at me with those enormous dark eyes in the candlelight, like she was waiting to be unwrapped.

I took my time undressing. Let her watch. She'd earned it, after three weeks of imagining this, and I wanted her so primed by the time I crossed the room that she was already coming apart before I'd touched her. By the time I buckled the harness on, adjusted the straps and tightened them under her hungry gaze, her thighs were already pressing together and her breathing was audible from across the room.

"Don't move those hands," I said.

"I won't."