“I don’t think so. You’ve been through a lot together.”
Aggie nodded and lowered her gaze. “Yeah, we have. It’s hard to find people who don’t judge you when you lead the kind of life I’ve led. Someone like me has to hold on to those who care that they still breathe.”
“Then hold on to me,” he whispered and pulled her against his chest. “Hold on and never let go.”
Chapter Eight
Aggie tried to slip into her dominatrix frame of mind, but she was just too damned emotional to pull off anything but a smile as Jace knelt at her feet and slipped her foot into one of her boots. She should’ve told him about Starr ages ago. It was as if the final demon that haunted her had been sent back to Hell and she was truly free to love this man with all her heart. She’d been certain that he wouldn’t understand her strange relationship with Starr, but as usual, Jace surprised her with his empathy, his compassion, his acceptance. And the man was hers.
Jace tugged the supple leather up her leg and then tightened the lacings of the boot, starting at the back of her ankle and working his way up. She’d always loved having a man at her feet, but she never would have guessed how much she enjoyed Jace helping her dress in her corset and boots. There was something intimate about him assisting with her transformation from Aggie to Mistress V. With her slaves, she’d never let one see her with her guard down like this, but Jace had never been her slave. At times he was submissive, at other times he was completely in charge. He could make love to her with absolute tenderness or fuck her until she begged for mercy. They were constantly exploring the dynamic between them. She never knew what to expect from him, and it rocked her to her core that neither of them adhered to a specific role.
But roles were for games, and this wasn’t a game to her. It was her heart. Her soul. Her life. Her love.
He tied the lacings of her boot at the back of her thigh and grinned up at her. “Does this please you, Mistress?” he asked, looking about as submissive as a caged tiger when his gaze met hers in challenge.
“Yes,” she whispered. Everything he did for her pleased her.
He buried his face in her crotch, caught her black satin panties in his teeth, and gave them a tug. When she didn’t demand that he stop—because frankly she didn’t want him to—his teeth nipped at the flesh beneath the fabric, sending sparks of pleasure and pain along her nerve endings. Heat flooded the emptiness between her thighs, making her swell and throb with anticipation.
He grabbed the top band of her panties, tugged them down in front, and slid the tip of his tongue into her cleft. He teased her clit just enough to make it tingle and tilted his head back to look up at her. She saw the defiance in his eyes. Knew exactly what he was after.
“Did I say you had permission to lick me there?” she asked.
“It’s mine,” he said, lifting both hands to grab her ass. “I can lick it if I want.”
“I think someone needs to be punished,” she said, forcing herself not to hold the back of his head and encourage him to lick her more rigorously.
“Is it you?” he asked.
He nibbled her mound and then sank his teeth into her throbbing flesh. Her knees buckled.
“It’s definitely you,” she said breathlessly, trying to find the hardness in her demeanor, but only finding her soft spot for the man at her feet. “Put my other boot on.” The demand sounded too much like a request, so she half expected him to refuse. He did enjoy his punishments for not obeying, but he reached for her boot and carefully lifted her foot to slip inside it. She rested her hands on the top of his head for balance and tried to control the quivering in her thighs and belly as he slid the boot up her leg and tightened the laces up the back. The little licks and kisses he bestowed on her flesh as he nuzzled her crotch were driving her mad with need, but she tried not to show her eagerness for his attention. He was doing as she’d instructed—dressing her in her boot—so he obviously wanted this dynamic to continue a while longer.
He tied the lacings at the back of her thigh and lifted her panties to cover her aching pussy.
God, she wanted him. Would that lessen with time? Not if her body had a say in the matter.
“I was rather enjoying that,” she said.
He grinned up at her and then rose to his feet. He cupped her bare breasts in his palms and massaged them gently.
“Do you need your corset?” he asked. “I like to watch your tits bounce when you hit me.”
“Did I ask you what you like?” she asked. This time her voice managed the hard edge of Mistress V, and Jace shuddered.
She stepped around him, tossing her long hair back over her shoulders as she strode to the open suitcase on the dresser. Her Mistress V persona took another sentimentality hit as something in her suitcase caught her eye. Among her instruments of torture rested a familiar, lacy white and blue garter, the one she would wear on her thigh the next day when she made Jace her husband. She smiled at it and touched it gently with her fingertips. It was a bit out of place in her mix of leather and nylon, but she had to wear it—wanted to wear it. She knew how much it meant to Jace to be part of Sinners, so of course she’d wear the girly thing with pride to carry on the lady Sinners tradition. Every member of Sinners had peeled that same piece of lace and ribbon down his new wife’s thigh, and she knew Jace would want to be a part of that bond. She moved the garter aside, because it had no business being witness to what she was about to do to her man. She could feel his interested gaze on her as she selected a long wooden paddle and a flail with three lashes.