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His mouth parted slightly, and a light sheen of sweat formed on his upper lip. As he worked, his jaw clenched and released, his head tilting this way and that to avoid mine. His hands expertly wrapped, threaded, twisted, and tugged the rope just how he wanted it. Repeating from back to front, weaving patterns he knew from memory.
Afterwards, we lie in the semi-darkness, his chest pressing to my back while we spooned on our left sides. Eventually, his breathing slowed down.
When I felt the tension in his arm over me lessen, I shot out from under the covers and streaked down the hall. I skidded to a stop at the kitchen island where a blackened ham sat in my mom's heirloom roasting pan-which had also turned crusty-black inside.
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" Dirk stuck his hands in the front pocket of his jeans, making his jacket bulge under his arms. When I started to turn away, he sighed and added, "I need to say something first, Holly. " My gaze slowly returned to him. I couldn't remember when he'd ever called me by my name.
It was almost a year before I felt I could venture back into being a Dominant again. I'd enjoyed the role. I just needed a loyal partner.