“Can you imagine having this done on your toes?” I asked. “And a masochist would obviously be forced to put on his shoes.”
“Oof. There’s a Sadist in you, baby. Make it coconut rope, and we really got something.”
Fuck. That would be painful. Add a bit of perspiration too. Man, the chafing.
“Flex your fingers again,” I instructed. “Any tingling?”
He complied and shook his head. “No. It’s tight, but it’s not a bad feelin’.”
Perfect. I’d leave it on for a while so those little rope marks would create a design on his skin.
“What’s your favorite kind of rope?” he asked.
“Five-ply twisted jute,” I responded right away. “But it depends on the purpose. If I’m doing suspension bondage, I’ll go with hemp. And I haven’t left nylon behind either. I love it for more decorative work.”
He smiled. “My rope nerd.”
I chuckled.
This was my favorite kind of Friday night. Just him and me on the couch, some movie running in the background, takeout containers on the coffee table, my man with a beer or a whiskey, and…just talking about the future. Or bondage. I’d never tire of discussing rope.
Aside from that one time when I fucked up a double column along your thigh. I considered burning the rope and never doing bondage again. That’s how frustrated I was. I couldn’t for the life of me get the knots right. But you grabbed me by my shoulders, rested your forehead to mine, and said, “Breathe, baby. Hit that pause button and take a deep breath. You know what you’re doing.”
You’ve been my anchor since the day we met, Ash.
CHAPTER 3
Fifteen years ago
London
Ash Riley
“To five amazing years together, love!”
“To five amazing years,” I echoed and kissed his neck.
My fucking God, we’d needed this vacation. Thisbreak. Our first big trip together too, to celebrate a fantastic anniversary, which happened to fall during London Pride. We were surrounded by rainbows and cheers, the sun was shining down on us, not a single cloud in the sky, and the parade was full of life and hope.
I hugged Nate tightly from behind as we watched another glamorous float roll by.
We clung to that hope. We were getting closer back home too, but for every two steps forward, we suffered a setback. We just had to focus on the positives. Someone would choose us eventually. My mother had warned me from the very beginning.The odds were stacked against us, and it could take decades. The one upside was that the legislative changes were finally picking up the pace.
We’d been hearing sunshine stories since the ’90s, and it was only a matter of time.
More and more lately, I was even hearing talk about legalizing same-sex marriage across the country, which was another goal. Nate and I had tied the knot in the most low-key way possible last year. We’d vowed in front of our parents and a clerk that we’d forget that day as soon as we weren’t treated like second-class citizens. It was a piece of paper for adoption purposes. A piece of paper that held very little validity outside the state. But we’d done it as a compromise to make things easier in our fight, and we would replace the day with a more significant one the moment the law became federal. When we could get married like anybody else.
We didn’t even wear rings. We were too resentful. Marriage was supposed to be a union of love, not tax breaks and benefits. Or proof of being worthy of parenthood.
But hey. The conversation about legalizing marriage for us had started. That was the first step. Talking about it. Getting people used to the idea, as Nate had taught me.
I squeezed him tighter to me and buried my face against his neck.
What the fuck would I do without him?
“You know I love a good Pride parade, but is this over soon?” he asked. “I’m fucking starving.”
I rumbled a laugh and kissed his neck once more. “Let’s go eat. It ain’t our last parade.”
