Page 164 of Beautifully Ruined
But I can smell a hint of warm flowers still in the air, a calling card that I missed Vi.
She must have gone back out with Lia. I haven’t had time to check her whereabouts. But I do look around to see if they went shopping, hoping maybe she got something fantastically slutty to wear for me.
I’m aware I should be shamed by the thought, but I’m not. And if she didn’t, I just might buy her something for the next time we play publicly.
I still really want to play in the realm of rope play, in public—something that’s suited to a club. The thing with Vi is she opens up so many avenues in me, deep depths I want to explore with her.
But there’s more.
One other avenue I didn’t really ever give much thought to, one I didn’t think I particularly wanted.
Vanilla. Making love. Spending lazy days in bed where we lose ourselves in each other, where I can slowly worship her. I’m not talking boring vanilla. I’m talking Madagascar. Bourbon. The whole thing.
But for someone like me, that’s vanilla. It’s what regular people do.
And it has never interested me, not in how I’m starting to think of it.
Because I’m thinking of it with an open-ended future.
I’m thinking of days hanging out, her studying, me working, just being together, sharing a space like we belong together. I’m thinking of dates, real dates where I take her to see a play or a movie without fucking her in the theater. I’m thinking of romantic dinners, drinks with friends.
Picnics, fights, laughter, tears.
Knowing her like I don’t know anyone else and being utterly fascinated by her still.
Because I can feel that in my bones. I could be with her for sixty years and find her as fascinating as I do now, I could discover new things about her every day and relearn all the ones I know.
I love her. That’s no surprise.
But this is different. In love? Mature love? The forever kind?
Rings, kids, together forever love?
I stop and take a breath.
“Maybe.”
Of course, there’s nothing here, no packages, but I’m not disappointed. I’ll fucking take her shopping. Buy her kinky clothes and toys, buy her evening dresses, jewels, and flowers.
I go into our room and stop.
A bunch of clothes sit on the bed, most I haven’t seen, and I think they’re the ones she got the last time she went shopping with Lia.
I pick up a leather corset. Then a boned one with silk and lace.
Both are hot, but I think I prefer her easy access for me. Though corsets have their place. A lesson in edging. In delayed gratification. And they’re a lesson for her in a type of bondage. A subtle one.
Fuck, she could wear one under an evening dress that I’ll buy her. We can go out and have a regular evening and?—
“Fuck, man. You’re losing it.” I pause. “You also have it bad.”
I drop the corsets, because I don’t have time to float off into what if world. But as I turn from the clothes, I stop. And I turn back, taking them in again.
Why the fuck are they out?
What would she be doing with them if she’s spending time with Lia?
My heart beats hard as my chest tightens.
