141 x female reader - sneak peek

You look nice.

You repeat it again in your head, drilling it in again and again, determined to soak your bones it, burrow it beneath your skin.

You look fine. Better than fine. You look good.

Kyle’s heavy hand knocks at the door.

“Ready love?”

“Yeah, one second!” You stumble over your shoes, and straighten before curling your fingers over the cold brass doorknob.

“You look beautiful,” he murmurs, lips dotting your cheek. The brush of his touch on your skin, and you lean into it. Into him. “Happy Anniversary.”

“Thanks, Kyle, you too.”

Dinner is perfect. As perfect as you could have imagined. He checked off all your boxes, the restaurant, the wine, the walk after dinner. His hand held your waist, warm, firm, keeping you close, close enough he could lean in and kiss you, tilt your jaw for his mouth.

His attention burned through you. It was rare, lacking most of your life, though to no fault of your own, or his.

He was gone most of the year, something you knew about when he went down on a knee, when he slipped a ring on your finger. You made the most of the little moments, fleeting grains of sand slipping through the hourglass, each one as quick as the next. You woke in the dark to his body against you in bed, only to be alone again in the morning. A few days here and there, too quick to even be counted. In the hazy lowlight of dusk or dawn, he’d press you to the mattress, spread your knees and devour you, before slotting himself against you and sliding home, groaning at the heat stretching to accommodate. Just thinking about it made your thighs press together.

He leads you across the park to a hotel, one of the new ones, a shiny beacon on the street, and you ask him a million questions as he ushers you into elevator, answering none of them.

The room is big, bed bigger than your own at home, champagne on ice. His lips close over yours, cradling your cheeks before he pressed his forehead to yours. This is romantic. You’re glad you wore your nice lingerie set.

“I got you a very special gift, love,” his hands are everywhere, at the nape of your neck, your shoulders, your spine.

“You did?” You giggle when he nips at your collarbone. “What is it?”

“Have to put this on.” He’s holding a black silk blindfold. “An’ promise not to take it off.” Goosebumps break out down your arms. He situations it over your eyes, and you trace his ring finger, holding his hands to yours for a moment before he walks you backward to the bed. You laugh again.

This isn’t a huge surprise, if you’re honest. In the beginning of your relationship, Kyle was wild. He’d take you in public restrooms, smearing your lipstick with the head of his cock, he’d spank your ass raw until you cried and then fuck it, deep and slow.

But things like that don’t happen anymore. He’s tired, wrung out from work, carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. That combined with a marriage of over seven years… it’s all just kind of fallen away.

He tugs your shoes free, followed by your tights, groaning at the sight of purple lace. You breathe deep when he tugs it to the side, finding you already wet, a thumb gently pressing to your swollen clit.

“Ah,” you whimper, and he kisses the inside of your thigh.

“I love you,” he whispers, crawling up your body, carrying you with him until you’re back against the pillows, introducing more silk to your skin. Your wrists are tied to the headboard, and you sigh.

The door clicks. You jerk against the restraints. “Kyle?”

“Shhh, you’re okay. Do you trust me?” You swallow, and it’s audible.

“Yes.”

“Good girl.”