Page 70 of Possessive Ink

“I’m not you. I’m not into punishments and rules. I’ve never cared for protocol. I’m a pleasure Dom. All I need to be happy is for my princess to kneel for me, then let me take charge in the bedroom, and she follows my lead like she was created just for me. I’ve never been so sure that a woman is mine as I was the moment I laid eyes on her. She’s mine, and I want to marry her.”

“Holy fuck,” Gaelle says reverently.

“Tell me about it.” I chuckle.

“You still need to explain to her what the collar means.”

“I will. Now about that ring.”

There’s a pause for a moment, then she blurts, “Ialreadymadeit.”

“What?”

Clearing her naturally gruff, raspy voice, she says, “I already made it.”

“What do you mean, you already made it?”

“When I made the collar, I made the ring too, and a matching engagement ring.” We’re both silent for a minute before she growls, “I was inspired. So sue me.”

“So you made the ring we agreed I wouldn’t need?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“And you made a matching engagement ring too?”

“Yes.”

“And where have they been for the last few years?”

“On display in my store,” she says a little sheepishly.

“For sale?” I gasp.

“No, of course not. But I could have sold them a thousand times over. I get at least one phone call a week asking to buy them.”

“Wait,” I say, not having expected this conversation to go this way.

My cell buzzes against my ear.

“I sent you a picture. I made a few…adjustments to make it more of a wedding set.”

Pulling the cell away from my ear, I click into the picture she sent me and suck in an involuntary gasp. Both rings are made of rose gold. The wedding band is fairly simple with twinkling pink diamonds set into the band. The engagement ring is the showstopper. A rose gold band supports a bow made up of large oval-shaped pink diamonds with a white diamond sunk into the center of the bow.

“Fuck, Gaelle,” I mutter, lifting my cell back to my ear.

“What do you think? I can make the exact design I drew up for you back when we made the collar if you want. I can sell these, or I’ll just keep them as display rings. You hate them, don’t you?”

“They’re fucking perfect. They’re her. It’s like you made them just for her. Can you ship them to me? How much do I owe you?”

“I can do better than that. I can bring them to you,” she says a little smugly.

“How the fuck are you going to bring them to me? You’re in Boston.”

“Except I’m not. Holly and I are in Portland visiting her parents. She’s always wanted to visit Big Sky, so we can jump a flight and bring the rings to you before we head into the mountains for a babymoon.”

“I mean, it’d be great to see you both, but you said the rings are in Boston at your studio,” I remind her.

“I said they’ve been on display in the store. Holly and I came out to visit with her parents after we did a jewelry expo in Vegas. I had the rings with me as part of my display pieces.”