“I’m not okay with that,” I said insistently. “I know what you’re like, William Anderson. Don’t try and hide from me.” Sensing I needed to pull out the big guns, I wagged my ring finger at him, flashing my wedding band. “Not any more.”

  He pulled a T-shirt on over his head and looked at me. “Do you want to go down to the bar? Get a drink?”

  I nodded, relieved, and rolled out of bed to get dressed. Khaki shorts, flip flops, T-shirt. I wasn’t about to get dressed up. We both probably stank of sweat and each other, but I didn’t care. It was one in the morning, I didn’t anticipate running into many people.

  We held hands in the elevator on the way down. Will reached for me, winding our fingers together, and I stepped closer to him until we were shoulder to shoulder.

  “Two scotches, please,” Will said to the barkeeper. “With ice. Room thirty-one.”

  We waited for our drinks, then took them over to a low leather couch that looked out over the waterfall and a heavy moon that hung low in the sky. For a few minutes we sat together, my legs thrown over Will’s thighs. He stroked my knee absently and sipped at his whiskey.

  “What do you need to think about?” I asked him.

  “I dunno,” he grumbled. “I didn’t expect that. It just messed with my head.”

  “Doing it, or enjoying it?”

  He laughed once. “Enjoying it.”

  “What did you like?”

  Will looked at me, a bemused expression on his face. “Is this retribution for all of those times I made you talk about a session when you didn’t want to?”

  “Absolutely.”

  He leaned forward and caught my bottom lip between both of his, whiskey slick, and licked my tongue before pulling away. There were only a few other people in the bar, late night stragglers, and I didn’t care about kissing in front of them.

  “I finally get it,” he said softly. “I didn’t feel weak, or lesser, or… I felt empowered. It wasn’t uncomfortable, I didn’t panic, I trust you absolutely. I already knew that, but it was nice to have it confirmed. You made me come really fucking hard,” he added with a laugh.

  “Good.”

  “But I’m not a sub. I’ve never wanted that before, so I sort of want to figure out if I want it again, and if I do, what that means. What sort of context I want it in, you know? And I’ve also got a responsibility to a sub who I worship, who I’ve dedicated my whole life to. So if I’m going to explore this, I need to think about what sort of impact it could have on you.”

  “I’m fine,” I said, hoping my sincerity came across. “Really. I enjoyed that too.”

  “It’s not messing with your head that your Master submitted to you?”

  “No. It’s….” I struggled for the right words, then found them. “I guess it’s another way of serving you,” I said quietly.

  Will knocked back the rest of his whiskey and wrapped his arms around me, holding me close and pressing his face to the side of my neck. “You’re incredible,” he murmured.

  “I know,” I said, teasing. “That’s why you married me.”

  “I did.” He smiled up at me.

  “Will?”

  “Mm?”

  “Take me to bed.”

  We held hands on the way back to our room, seeing no one but the barman on the short journey. After stripping down to nothing we crawled between the sheets and I rolled onto my side, letting Will spoon up behind me. Like this, I could play with the ring that I’d put on his finger. It felt right. It felt, strangely, like home.

  The next morning we made love again in the huge hotel bed, Will still spooned up behind me. It was slow, lazy lovemaking; after three rounds the day before, my engine was running almost on empty. I wasn’t one to turn down the offer of a thick cock poking at my hole though, and while I was still half-asleep I pulled my knee up to my chest and let him push inside me.

  We stumbled downstairs just in time to grab some breakfast before the kitchen closed, and ate out on the terrace, watching the sun burning the mist off the trees. I kept stealing glances at Will, wondering how the hell I got so lucky to be able to call him my husband.

  My husband.

  It was quiet out here. The hotel’s other guests had already dissipated, off hiking or swimming in the heated, underground pool, or to the spa. They had bikes that you could rent too, if you didn’t want to hike, and plenty of space to just sit and be. But we were alone on the terrace.

  “I wish we could stay for a week,” Will murmured, perfectly echoing my thoughts.

  “We need to book a vacation.”

  “I will. Let me just get through the next few months, and I can figure out what we’re doing this summer.”

  I reached for his hand, knowing how stressful his job could be. That was partly my fault… though he’d never blamed me for it. When we moved back to Georgia, after my mom died, he’d taken a change in his job that let him be more flexible in his work schedule. But that change had come with a whole heap of new responsibilities, and he was now paying the price for the freedom we’d been allowed the previous summer.

  Will squeezed my hand back.

  We’d work something out. I could be confident of that, even if the details might take a little longer to untangle.

  When we arrived home (after stopping at Starbucks, at Will’s insistence), he shoved some clothes in the washer while I finished the last of the cleaning up from the wedding. There was still cake left over and, even though I thought I’d probably regret it, I grabbed a piece before taking a seat in our new chair-for-two. Breakfast at the hotel had been an elaborate affair: waffles and pancakes, crisp bacon and sausage, cereal, pastries, orange juice, and excellent coffee. Will joined me in the living room a few minutes later and licked the icing from my fingers.

  “You’re so gross,” I said, laughing. He hummed and kissed me as I wiped my fingers dry on my jeans. I kissed him back.

  We found a way of sitting together, feet tucked up, my legs over his thighs, which was possibly the most comfortable I’d ever been. Snuggled up like this with good coffee was pretty much all I could ask for in life. I sighed in contentment.

  Will rubbed his thumb over my wrist and I was suddenly, painfully conscious of the collar he’d cut off just before the wedding.

  “I’ll start making you a new one,” Will said, trusting that I knew what he was talking about. He’d made all of my collars so far.

  “That’ll be good,” I told him.

  “Does last night change anything?”

  “Do you want it to?” I countered. He shrugged.

  “I… I’m still trying to work it out in my head. I never thought I wanted that, I never expected to get off on it like I did.”

  “Are you still okay with being my Dom?” I asked, heart in my throat at the thought of losing him.

  “Yes,” he said immediately and reached up to grip my chin, turning my face to him. “Yes, I promise. Nothing is going to change that.”

  “Okay. I liked last night, Will. I’m happy to do it again if that’s what you want. Or to experiment with it. Whatever.”

  He nodded. “I need to think about it.”

  “That’s fine. Just don’t clam up on me, okay?” I was only partly teasing. He kissed me, sealing the promise.

  The next morning was Monday, and we both had to go to work which brought me back down to earth with something of a crash. I’d been quite happy, floating along on a cloud of newly-married bliss. When the alarm beeped in my ear I groaned, frustrated that my dirty dream had been so rudely interrupted.

  “Morning, beautiful,” Will said from behind me.

  “Morning,” I said grumpily.

  He came around the bed and set a mug of coffee on my nightstand, and a fresh wave of love for him swept through my body. I struggled to sit up then cradled the mug to my chest, not sure if the caffeine or the sight of Will’s bare chest would perk me up first.

  I got a kiss on the forehead, then he disappeared into the closet to pick one of his three hundred shirts to pair with the dark gray wool pants he’d already put on. When he emerged he had a light blue striped shirt draped over his shoulders and a silver-gray tie in his hand.

  “Do you know what time you’ll finish tonight?” I asked, then took a sip of my coffee while I waited for his reply.

  His wince didn’t fill me with confidence. “I’ll try and be out by six thirty, okay?”

  “Okay. Just let me know if you’re not going to be home for dinner.”

  “I’ll definitely be home for dinner,” he said emphatically, finishing buttoning his shirt then going to the mirror to fix his tie.

  I was still in bed when he kissed me hard and slipped out of the house. It was only a little after seven. He’d be in work before seven thirty.

  I sighed, knowing that telling him he worked too hard or too much was futile. Will loved his job. He had been on a career ladder that kept going up these days, and he’d come a long way in the time I’d known him, from his humble start working for his father’s company.

  It was harder for me to argue with him because he loved his job, truly enjoyed getting stuck into projects that meant coordinating with experts across the world.

  I heard his car start up, then rumble away down the street toward Seattle’s financial district. With a heavy sigh I rolled out of bed, taking my coffee with me to the shower.

  My job at the Burke Museum of Natural History in Seattle was one I thought was important, too. I’d only recently finished my degree in History when I’d met Will, and now I got to put it to use every day.

  Unlike Will, I didn’t need to wear a suit to work, thank God, and dressed in dark jeans, a soft shirt and a knitted sweater over the top. Since I was awake anyway I made my lunch, boxed up the leftover cake, and headed off to the museum early.

  A few of my colleagues had made it to the wedding reception, the ones I worked with closely, at least. We were a small team in the exhibition planning department. Even so, I wasn’t expecting what I walked into.

  No one else was at the office yet, I was there before the rest of my team, but they’d clearly taken the time to decorate my office after I’d left on Thursday. I shared the small room with Leila, who had only recently come back to work after having her daughter, and only worked part-time. The room was covered in silver streamers, a big banner that said ‘Congratulations!’ and piles of glittery confetti. I couldn’t help but laugh as I pushed a streamer out of my face and stepped over one of the piles of stuff on the floor.

  Someone—and I guessed my boss, Serena, was behind it—had changed the nameplate on my desk. It now read ‘Jesse Anderson-Ross’, and there was a heart-shaped Post-It note attached.

  “Do you like it?”

  I whirled around to see Serena standing in the doorway, grinning at me.

  “Yeah,” I said, laughing. “Thank you. I’m not sure who’s going to clean all this up, though.”

  “You are,” she said, smiling wickedly. “Welcome back, Mr. Anderson-Ross.”

  She smirked and ducked out of the room.

  Work was busy. So busy. We were about to launch all of our new exhibitions for spring, and I had a full schedule of events and teaching sessions planned for learners of all ages.

  For this season we’d expanded the types of events we were offering too, bringing in craft groups and musicians and storytellers to be part of the lineup. For me, that meant organizing a dozen or more different groups. I’d only taken one damn day off for my wedding, and my desk, and my inbox, were overflowing.

  I tried not to be resentful, but after the magic of our amazing wedding weekend, reality returned like a smack in the face. I had hoped we’d drift along in the high of our mini-honeymoon for just a little longer. But by the weekend we were both exhausted and I cancelled all our plans to stay home and spend some time alone, just the two of us.

  We’d had a brief conversation about renegotiating now that we were a married Dom/sub couple. I knew that there were things that I wanted to change, and I was sure he had some ideas too. If there was one thing I knew about my Master, it was that he always a few tricks up his sleeve.

  But I wanted to initiate this next change.

  I’d been playing a few things over in my mind during the week, analyzing my own wants and needs where we were right now, and what I might want going forward. Out of curiosity, I pulled up an old file on my laptop, a BDSM checklist that we’d used at the beginning of our relationship.

  The list covered pretty much every aspect of a consensual BDSM relationship imaginable, and reading it through, I couldn’t help but smile at how much my interests had changed. The things I’d marked in those early days as a solid ‘red’ for no or ‘amber’ for maybe had crept into my ‘green’ for enthusiastic yes please.

  I saved a new copy of the checklist, and started working through it again from the top.

  Will was sprawled on the couch watching a ball game on the TV. He looked content, unaware that I had the spreadsheet open on my computer. I worked through it for almost an hour, debating with myself whether I dared to do what I was thinking of doing. Will yawned and stretched, and I knew I only had moments left to make a decision before he rolled to his feet and wandered up to bed.

  I emailed the spreadsheet to him and snapped my laptop shut. Moments later his phone chimed as he received the message and he opened it, smirking at me. I watched as he pulled up the spreadsheet and read through the changes.

  “Come here,” he said in a low voice, setting his phone on the arm of the couch as he shifted around, planting his feet on the floor.

  I knelt in front of him.

  “Explain,” he said.

  The temptation to shrug and say that I thought it was fairly self-explanatory was strong, but I knew my ass would regret that so I forced my shoulders to stay fucking still.

  “I’ve been thinking a lot,” I started, keeping my head lowered and my voice clear. “I want to change the terms of our arrangement, if that’s agreeable to you, Master.”

  “You just sent me a list giving me permission to do whatever I like to you.”

  That wasn’t exactly true, and we both knew it. There were still a few activities that I’d marked as ‘amber’, but nothing on that sheet was ‘red’ any more.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Explain more,” he growled at me. I couldn’t help it—my dick twitched.

  “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you,” I said simply. “I mean, there are things on that list that I don’t want to do. And I don’t think you do either. But the point is, if you wanted to do something, I’d let you. If it meant serving you, giving you something that you truly desired, then I’m not going to say no.”

  Let’s face it—I wasn’t about to beg him to use knives or needles to slice through my skin, I didn’t particularly want him to piss on me or choke me or put me in a full rubber suit and leave me hanging in the corner of the room for a week. But if that was what he wanted from me… I’d do it.

  “Jesse,” he said, his voice still low. I looked up. He crashed his lips to mine.

  I was almost knocked backward by the force of it, the sheer power of his love for me. He bit down hard on my lower lip and I whimpered as my dick throbbed and I was steel hard and ready for whatever he wanted.

  “I’m not okay with this,” he said when he broke away. His hands were twisted in my hair, holding my head still and hurting me, just a little bit. “I don’t play with no-limits subs. So we’ll talk about this, understood?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “But right now I want you to go up to that playroom, strip yourself naked and bend over my bench because I’m going to fuck your ass raw.”

  “Yes, Sir,” I said with more enthusiasm.

  “Go.”

  I went.

  The next day I limped into work, feeling more uncomfortable than I had in a long time. He hadn’t just fucked me, he’d spanked me too with a heavy wooden paddle and lord, had I felt that right in my bones. The rest of our conversation was still waiting to be had, I knew that. He needed to be sure that we were on the same wavelength so I didn’t freak out in the middle of a session, and that was okay. We had made plans to go through our expectations and sign a new contract later that night.

  That, I was looking forward to. It meant getting a new collar, and I would readily admit how much I’d missed having the braided thread around my wrist, even if it had been gone only a few days.

  I made sure to get home early, giving me plenty of time to shower and clean myself up, then prepare a nice dinner for us. I had a recipe for a chicken and rice dish with lots of fresh vegetables that I’d wanted to try for ages, and I had the time to prepare it right.

  Will got home late, but I was used to that, and dinner was almost ready when I heard his car pull into the garage.

  “Man, something smells amazing,” he said, giving me a kiss on the cheek before he dumped his bag on the counter.

  “You want to take a shower? This will keep warm.”

  “Sure. Thank you. You’re the best.”

  “I know,” I said with a laugh as he hurried up the stairs.

  I split the rice and veggies into two bowls, then packed the rest into containers for us to take into work the next day.

  By the time he came back downstairs I was just about done.

  “You look tired,” I told him, carefully smoothing his hair back from his face.

  “I’m okay.”

  Even though I wanted to push, I let it go and took dinner through to the living room so we could chill out while we ate. Will already knew I thought he worked too hard, and nagging him wasn’t going to make it any better. I wouldn’t let it go completely, though. He needed to give himself a break.

  We took opposite ends of the couch and I put the radio on instead of the TV. Will cradled his bowl to his chest and dug his fork in.

  “This is good,” he mumbled.

  “Thanks.”

  “How’s the event planning going?”

  “I finally made some progress today.”

  He gestured with his fork for me to keep going, so I told him about my two-hour phone call to San Francisco and the fine details that I’d finally—finally—worked out with the loans coordinator there.