I’ve made space in my life for him, and I hope he sees that. I hope he knows I’m just as consumed by him as he is by me.
“What shoes do you want to wear?” Knight asks, cupping my cheek as he pulls away from our kiss.
“You pick.”
Nodding, he presses a quick peck to my lips, then steps away, selecting a new pair of shoes he ordered for me last week. They’re black satin pumps with a platform sole, chunky heel, and ribbons that crisscross up my ankle, tying in a bow at the back of my calf.
Not asking, he sinks to his knees and puts my shoes on my feet, looking up at me from the floor as he binds my legs in ribbons.
“Is wrapping me in ribbons on your list?” I ask, suddenly curious. He’s never told me what’s on the sex to-do list he created before we got together, and honestly, given that we’ve been fucking like we just invented sex for the last few weeks, I’d sort of forgotten about it.
“Yes,” he answers simply.
“It is?” I question, surprised.
“I would like to bind your wrists together with ribbon, yes.”
“Oh,” I gasp. “Okay.”
“Okay,” he says simply, like he’s just added a little mild bondage to our schedule for the day.
When he ties the first ribbon tightly around my leg, my core pulses excitedly as I imagine how it’ll feel to have my wrists wrapped in ribbons.
“What else is on that list?” I ask a little breathily.
His eyes crinkle, and he flashes me a rare smile. “It’s time to leave.”
By the time we get to the studio, I’m horny and a little frustrated at my husband for refusing to tell me what exactly he fantasized about doing with me before we got together.
“Is it like a group thing? Or do you want to watch me get fucked by another dude?” I ask tartly. I’m being a brat, but I just don’t understand why he won’t tell me.
“Never. You’re mine and only mine,” he says, his voice low and gruff.
“Is it something weird? Why won’t you just tell me?” I whine.
“I’m not aware that it’s considered weird,” he says, frustratingly calm again.
“So what’s the problem?”
“I don’t have a problem. The biggest thing on my list was putting my baby in you. Until that has happened, I’m not interested in trying any of the other things I envisioned.”
“What if we never get pregnant? Are you just willing to never tick anything else off?” I know that Knight wants to get me pregnant. I want that too, no matter how crazy it is. But it’s not like we’re only fucking with the purpose of knocking me up, so I don’t get his logic.
“My sperm count and mobility are above average. We can ask the doctor to do some tests to check your egg production and our compatibility at our appointment on Friday,” he suggests rationally.
“No. I don’t want that,” I snap irritably. “God, just forget it. You can keep your list to yourself. I don’t care anymore.”
The moment the car rolls to a stop, I unfasten my seat belt and reach for the door, but the click of the locks being engaged stops me.
“Knight,” I start.
Not speaking, he climbs out of his seat, rounds the car, and opens my door, offering me his hand to help me out of the car, his lips pressed into a firm line. Knight rarely, if ever, gets angry, but I’ve learned to recognize his emotions from his tells, and right now, even though he’s not ranting and raging, he’s pissed that I unfastened my seat belt and tried to get out of the car without him.
A part of me wants to apologize. Only an hour ago, I was thinking about how much I love him and how well he takes care of me. But his withholding something as simple as his fantasies from me bothers me. For the most part, I’m secure in my relationship with Knight. He’s never made me feel insignificant or less than. So why is he trying to keep this from me?
Lifting my messenger bag out of the car, he grips my fingers tightly, checking on me with his eyes every second as we walk the short distance to the studio. I don’t know if he thinks I’m going to try to make a run for it, but the twitching muscle in his jaw says he’ll chase me down if I try to get away.
The studio is full, and it feels like all eyes turn to us the moment we step through the door.
