“You could. Judge B. sounded pretty optimistic. He knows everyone in family court, has lots of pull. He’ll be able to help you.”
“I’m grateful to him. It’s just...” Lance turned and looked at her and in his dark blue eyes she saw the road they’d never take, not together anyway. And it would have been a lovely stroll down that road. The entire Underground would have turned out for the party when their infamous Mistress Nora finally settled down and put a collar on a sub. The women would swoon over handsome, noble, chivalrous Lance and the men would admire him for being man enough to take her on. She could see the mornings ahead of them: the breakfasts Lance would serve to her in bed, the tea he’d bring to her office while she worked on a book, the neck rubs he’d give her when she spent too much time sitting at her desk or too long flogging a client. She could imagine how devastatingly debonair Lance would look in a tuxedo when they attended a formal party at Kingsley’s or a special event her publisher hosted. And the nights...all those nights in bed with Lance serving her every sexual whim and Nora treating him to his every desire... They could live a lifetime of good nights together. He could give her everything she wanted. She could give him everything he needed. And no one could take that away from them.
“I have to do what I need to do,” Lance said at last. “Even if it’s not what I want to do.”
“One last good night?” Nora offered. It was all she had to give.
Lance nodded instead of speaking. They drove in silence to her house and in silence they entered it. In silence they kissed and in silence she led him to the bedroom.
All night long he lavished attention on her body. He spent an hour kissing and teasing her breasts. She spent another hour beating him black and blue with her floggers, single-tails and canes. For his sake she wanted to leave him with bruises that would last for weeks. For her sake she wanted to know that he would carry the imprint of their time together on his body. She tied him down and rode him until she’d exhausted herself and him with orgasms. Then they slept but only for a while.
Nora awoke in the hour before dawn. She stared at Lance’s sleeping form. Of all the men she’d let in this bed none looked more right in it than Lance. A mix of moonlight and streetlight snuck into the room and revealed the welts and bruises that decorated Lance’s broad, muscled back.
Willpower alone kept her from kissing one beautiful and blackening bruise under his shoulder blade. Instead of touching him or kissing him, she pulled away and tiptoed to her closet. She slipped into a sheer black negligee she’d bought months ago but hadn’t worn yet. Why not? No better time than now. Now was all they had. But she wasn’t finished digging yet. Somewhere in this mess of a walk-in closet...she knew it was here...yes. She found it. The black velvet bag she’d hidden away.
From the top of her closet she pulled down a candle box and a lighter. As Lance slept she lit six of the candles and set them about the room. She had no plans for wax-play unless he asked her for it. She merely wanted to see his body by candlelight for the first and last time.
At last she had the room ready. Sunrise was still an hour away.
Standing at the side of the bed Nora paused, picked up a candle and bent forward. Her lips touched Lance’s shoulder the second the hot wax landed on his back.
Lance twitched and came awake in an instant and sat up. Panting from the shock of the painful awakening, he stared at Nora and said nothing, waiting like a well-trained soldier for the next command.
Nora only stared at him for a moment, at the veins in his forearms, the lines of lean muscle in his stomach and chest, the scattering of scars that only added to his allure. She set the candle back on the table. She picked up the black velvet bag, opened the silver drawstring and pulled out a heavy leather collar.
Lance looked down at the collar and then back at her with a question in his eyes. Nora turned it in her hand, tilting it toward the light.
“There’s this Israeli leatherworker that Kingsley knows. He makes all of Kingsley’s whips and floggers. Old guy. Probably knew Moses. Anyway...” Nora traced the ornate silver buckle on the back of the collar. “He had this with him last time he was at Kingsley’s. I bought it. One of those love-at-first-sight, impulse buys.” She smiled at Lance who seemed to be barely breathing now. Nora’s words, although whispered, seemed to echo off the walls. “The craftsmanship is incredible. See the grooves on it? It’s engraved. He said it’s the Hebrew words for Protector. Provider. Slave. He’s a romantic old soul. I didn’t have anyone in mind when I bought it. I just wanted it.”
“Why?” Lance asked, still staring at the collar but not touching it.
“I don’t know. Why do girls who don’t have boyfriends buy bridal magazines? They buy them to dream, I guess. Even Dominatrixes have dreams.”
“I wish I could make your dreams come true, Mistress.”
“You can. For an hour maybe. Dreams don’t last long. They don’t even last the whole night.”