Page 75 of The Deals We Make

Sweat appears on her forehead, and I know she is fighting the shift in position she needs because of the way the happy knot feels on her clit.

With my fingertips, I nudge it slightly off her center and place my thumb there instead.

“Please,” she gasps.

“I’ll do it if you promise you can come without saying a word.” I want her brain so entirely focused on her orgasm that she doesn’t have the capacity to think of any other thing. I want all the feelings to be so deeply inside that it feels like a contained explosion.

She nods vigorously, and I slide my fingers between her drenched lips.

The thought hits me: I could have had all this so long ago. She could have been in my bed, on my cock, in my rope all this time. Perhaps it’s true that time is a cruel master.

And yet, would we have ever gotten here without everything that happened before? How long before she got tired of waiting for me to figure out she wanted me?

I ease my finger out of her, and as I raise it to my lips, she opens her mouth to say something but closes it quickly.

“Such a good girl,” I say gruffly.

She soaks up the praise like a sponge.

Strikes me that it’s likely nobody has cared for Calista Moray in a really long fucking time. And because of that, she’s built her whole personality around being independent and not needing anybody.

I place my finger in my mouth and taste Calista.

The conversation in the truck comes back to me. The impermanence of all this. But, fuck if I don’t want to imagine a future where Calista and I play in here for hours. Lazy weekends where I tie Calista into the most complex of positions, where I suspend her and fuck her, and come all over her and the rope holding her up.

I dip my head so I can lick her. Because of the angle, I can’t get to a place where I can fuck her with my tongue. But I can tease her clit and slide my fingers into her.

I hear the hooks clank again as she bucks against them.

Her breathing increases, her gasps for air become louder, but she does as I say—she doesn’t say a word.

Even when she comes, squeezing my fingers, as her body shakes.

It’s a struggle to have the patience to ease her down. I want to fuck her more than my next breath, but I find the composure to unhook her wrists and lower the platform. As I glance down, I see a darkened patch of denim where my pre-cum has soaked through my jeans.

I grab the rope scissors and snip just below her belly button, leaving the top taut elsewhere but removing the knot from her clit. She’s light in my arms as I pick her up and carry her to the bed. It takes me all of two seconds to shuck my jeans and put a condom on.

Her golden hair fans out on my pillow. Something sticks in the back of my throat. Words. A proclamation of feelings. The overwhelming sense that in every lifetime she was meant to be mine.

The hope that one day the timing will be right, even if it’s not now.

“You want me, babe?” I ask. “Show me.”

There’s the momentary wrinkle between her eyebrows as she tries to figure out what I mean.

Then, she opens her legs in answer—haven’t told her she can speak yet and I love that she remembered.

Sweetest-looking pussy I ever fucking saw.

I climb over her and press my lips to hers before reaching for my cock.

And there has never been a feeling of home quite like it when I slide into her.

She’s wet and warm and snug. I’m wide, I know it, but she hugs me in a way that makes me want to come immediately, yet make it last forever.

“Ti,” she gasps.

My name from her lips is some kind of special. And it’s wild, because I’ve heard her say it a thousand times. But now it hits different.