by Eden Bradley
The officiant—a large man with a lovely deep voice—said Duff’s name, and he stood to read a piece from Kahlil Gibran. She focused on the seriousness of his handsome face as he spoke, the rich timbre of his voice laced with the Scottish accent she adored.
“‘Love one another, but make not a bond of love: let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls . . .’”
Even she had to admit it was a lovely sentiment. She knew that sea, that ebb and shift of love between them, the swell when Joy was born. Duff sat down and the officiant turned to Jamie and Summer.
“Tell each other now the words you need to say on this most wondrous day.”
Jamie took Summer’s hands in both of his, gazing into her eyes, and he truly looked as if the rest of the world had ceased to exist.
“Summer Grace Rae, I love you more than life itself. I did long before I knew it. But you knew. And it wasn’t until you’d given up on me that I saw the light—and the light was you. That light has let me see how amazing life can be, how amazing love can be. I will thank you for that for the rest of our lives. You mean more to me than I can say, and without the words, the only way I can think of to let you know how I feel is to spend the rest of my days showing you. And I promise I will do that.”
“Jamie,” Summer started, her soft voice shaking, “I always knew I loved you. I fell for you the moment I met you, when I was just a kid. I had no idea then how big this love would be, but I’ve discovered that it’s endless, without boundaries, without limits. Love needs no limits, and that’s something I’ve learned—something I could learn only with you. Thank you for that lesson. Thank you for loving me so thoroughly. Thank you for allowing me to learn to trust in love again.”
Layla tried to hold it together, but the tears rolled down her cheeks, and there was nothing she could do to stop them. When had she become so unbearably sentimental? Maybe it was the poetic heart of her big Scotsman, whose hazel eyes had been glowing with emotion all day. Or maybe it was the almost unbearably sweet magic in becoming a mother that had opened her up like this. All she knew was being with Duff, and being Joy’s mother, had changed everything for her.
“Damn it,” she muttered under her breath.
Duff tucked a tissue into her hand, and she wiped her eyes.
“Everyone here can see the great love between you,” the officiant continued, “but the important thing is to always see it in each other. I believe you will. But first, you must make your vows. Jamie Stewart-Greer, do you take this woman to be your wife? To love her and cherish her, to honor and respect her, in good times and bad? Do you pledge your life and your love to her?”
“I do. God, yes.”
“And Summer Grace Rae, do you take this man to be your husband? To love him and cherish him, to honor and respect him, in good times and bad? Do you pledge your life and your love to him?”
“I do. I do.”
Summer was shaking as Jamie leaned in to kiss her, a hard, long kiss full of passion, while their officiant laughed.
“I didn’t say it was time to kiss her yet! But what the hell—have at it. That’s a good man. He knows what he’s got,” he said, a wide grin on his round face. “Well, now, all I have left to say is, by the power vested in me by the grand state of Louisiana, I now pronounce you husband and wife!”
There was a hearty round of applause, along with some whistles and catcalls; then Jamie picked his bride up in his arms and carried her down the aisle, with a glowing Summer laughing joyfully as the crowd cheered.
“I have seriously never seen anything more beautiful,” Layla murmured to Duff.
“Except for my two girls here,” he said.
“You’re such a romantic,” she teased, but she couldn’t help but smile.
“Yeah, I am. But that’s how I reeled you in, princess, so it’s not a bad thing, is it? That and my astounding good looks.”
“I think it may have been your looks, period.”
“Ha. Well, at least this face was good for something. Ah, time to clear out for the reception. Give me that baby for a moment—you’re hogging her.”
She handed Joy over as Allie approached them, and Layla smiled at the woman who was engaged to Jamie’s best friend, Mick.
“Wasn’t that beautiful?” Allie asked, her eyes gleaming. “Wasn’t Summer beautiful?”
“It was,” Layla agreed. “She was. I love her dress, and this place! It’s perfect.”
“It is.” Allie bit her lip. “I hope everyone likes the cake.”
“It’s from your bakery,” Duff said. “I’m sure it’ll be incredible.
“It’s a work of art, Allie,” Layla told her. “It really is.”
“Thank you, hon.” Allie turned her attention to Joy, rubbing her tiny hand with one finger. “Is your father ever going to let me hold you or not, baby girl?”
Layla laughed. “You just have to grab her from him. Don’t worry—she’s a sound sleeper. She won’t be disturbed.”
“I was more concerned about Duff. He’s bigger than I am.”
“I’m bigger than most people,” he said gruffly, but it was all an act. He handed Joy carefully into Allie’s arms.
“I have to go show her off to Marie Dawn,” Allie said, referring to her best friend. “I promise to bring your baby girl back in a bit.”
“You will if you know what’s good for you,” Duff said, a mock threat in his tone.
“Yeah, yeah,” Allie said over her shoulder as she moved across the room.
Layla smacked his enormous arm. “You are ridiculous.”
“Ridiculously in love with my child.” He bent to kiss her lips. “And with you, my lovely.”
“Hey, you two, no hard-core smooching—leave that for the bride and groom,” Kitty said, handing them each a glass of champagne, then pulling them back. “Oh, hell, I forgot you don’t drink, Duff, and you’re still nursing, aren’t you, Layla?”
“I am. You can have my glass, Kitty.”
Her best friend grinned. “I may need it. There’s a hot guy over there and I have to grow the balls to approach him. Fingers crossed that he’s kinky.”
“That’s Grant,” Duff told her. “He’s a friend from the club. So yeah, he’s kinky—kinky as hell.”
“Yay!” Kitty grinned, smoothing her dress and fluffing her hair as her gaze went back to the tall, dark-haired man on the other side of the room. “Single?”
“As far as I know.”
“Meow.”
Duff chuckled. “Layla, darlin’, do we need to hold her down before she jumps the poor, unsuspecting bloke? Could cause a scene.”
“What’s a perfectly good New Orleans wedding without a little commotion? Anyway, Kitty can handle herself—and any man, I’m pretty sure.”
“Damn right I can,” Kitty said, her signature sensual purr in her voice. She tossed back the rest of the champagne “I’ll call you two tomorrow if I don’t make it through the cutting of the cake.”
Layla grinned after her friend as she moved away. “He has no idea how much trouble he’s in.”
“He’s a good Dom. He’ll get her under control quickly enough if they connect—quick enough to make her head spin, maybe. I’ve seen him play.”
“I actually think it’d be good for her. Our Kitty could use a little taming.”
“The same as you needed?”
“‘Needed’? Are you implying I’ve been tamed?” She dug her nails into his thick forearm to drive her point home.
“Only partially, love. Don’t worry—I know exactly who my wildcat girl is.”
They spent the rest of the afternoon smiling, eating and dancing. Joy was passed around and cuddled by nearly everyone at the reception, it seemed, but Layla knew she was always in good hands. Finally, the cake had been cut and it was time to leave.
“You sure you’re
up to going to The Bastille tonight?” Duff asked her.
“Absolutely. We haven’t played since Joy was born, and I’m getting antsy.”
“Then it’s definitely time. You’re certain Dennie’s grandma Annalee is up to caring for her overnight?”
“Dennie will be there, too. They’ve been family to Summer forever, and that makes them our family now, too. And they’re dying to get their hands on Joy.”
“It’s our first night without our baby girl.”
“I’ll be fine.”
He grinned down at her. “I know you will be—I was more worried about me.”
“I love that you’re such a softhearted lug.”
“Tonight I’m hoping to remind you what else you like about me.”
He wiggled his dark, heavy brows, making her laugh.
“I’m sure you will—you’ve kept the beast locked up tight for months.”
“Yeah, I have. It’s past time to whisk you off to my lair. Are you scared?”
“Terrified,” she said, knowing he didn’t believe her. But her stomach was fluttering at the thought of playing with her gorgeous man. It had been far too long, and she needed play, needed that level of connection with him. It was going to be a very good night.
• • •
THEY’D MADE SURE Dennie and Annalee had all of Joy’s supplies, and they’d kissed their little girl a dozen times before Duff took Layla home to rest and change. Home these days was the house they’d just bought and were planning to remodel—a beautiful old New Orleans shotgun style with three fireplaces and a large studio in the back for Layla. The kitchen had been done before the baby was born, as well as one bathroom. Bit by bit, they were making a home together. How had she never known she’d wanted this until Duff had come into her life? There was even a white picket fence out front.
She’d taken a nice, long bath, submerging into the ritual of preparing herself, her head already sinking into subspace as she rubbed lotion into her skin. She’d dressed for him in a little black dress that fit her curvy body like a glove, making her glad that nursing had helped her lose most of the baby weight. Her body would never be quite the same again, but it had made a baby—a new life—and somehow that only made her feel the sacredness of her form. She had a new appreciation for everything these days.
She was quiet on the ride to The Bastille, and Duff let her be, knowing this was part of her process, how she transitioned into subspace, readying her mind for play and for the roles they assumed even before Duff began to prepare their scene space.
The doorman ushered them inside, and they walked into the foyer of The Bastille, where Pixie, the club’s manager, sat behind the enormous antique desk.
“Good evening, you two.”
“Evening, Pixie,” Layla said.
“No fee tonight for you guys. Go on in.”
Layla glanced at Duff, but he simply nodded. “Thank you. Nice of you.”
Pixie sent him a saucy wink, but Layla didn’t have time to wonder what was up before Duff slid a hand across the small of her back and guided her into the club.
Ambient music and low lights in shades of amber and red shone on the highly lacquered black walls and created the rich, sensual atmosphere she’d always loved about this place. But the club felt different to her, maybe because they hadn’t been there since the earliest days of her pregnancy. It took her several moments to realize the main play area was empty, then understanding forced its way through the momentary shock.
She turned to Duff. “What did you do?”
He slipped his big arm around her waist. “It’s for you, my lovely. We have the place to ourselves all night.”
“I can see that. But why?”
“Why? Because you deserve it. And because I could,” he answered, looking incredibly pleased with himself. “I wanted you to be able to ease back into things—you’ve been away awhile. And I admit I wanted my girl all to myself tonight.”
She looked up into his glittering hazel eyes. “I don’t know what to say. This is amazing.”
“‘Amazing’ hasn’t even begun yet, lovely,” he told her, one dark brow arched. Then, laying his hands on both her shoulders, he caught her gaze with his and held it. “How are you feeling?”
“Honestly? Excited. And oddly nervous. I guess because it’s been a while. And the itch to play is . . . a little distracting.”
“Then I need to make you focus.” His tone dropped. “Look at me now, love. Hear my voice. I want you to breathe. Yes, you know exactly how—deep and slow, more slowly as you exhale. Look right into my eyes. Yeah, that’s it. Be with me. Be a part of me. Align your breath with mine.”
She did as he said, her body falling into rhythm with his breathing as he spoke, his low voice soothing her nerves, bringing her into the sphere of absolute connection he was such an expert at creating. When he pulled her black leather collar from his back pocket and buckled it around her neck, a shiver ran over her skin, arrowing deep inside her, and she sank deeper into subspace, feeling her submission to him in every cell of her being.
“You are mine, Layla. Say it.”
“I’m yours, Duff.”
She reveled in the sense of belonging as he took her through more synchronized breathing. It all went to work on her body as well as her mind, lighting her up inside with need. She had no idea how long it went on before he slid his hands down her arms, took her hand and led her to the play station in the center of the room, where two lengths of chain ending in a pair of padded leather cuffs were hung from a hard point in the high ceiling.
“I’m going to undress you now. To unveil you.”
She nodded, her mind already in that lovely, ethereal space he’d taken her to—a space filled only by love and desire and utter trust.
He slipped her dress over her head, pausing to lean in and kiss her cheek softly, and she closed her eyes for a moment with a sigh. Then he kissed her wrist before buckling her into one of the cuffs, and did the same with the other before working the pulley that drew her arms over her head, elongating her body.
“Such pretty lingerie, I had to leave it on. The pink lace is so lovely against your skin. And let’s leave your pretty heels on, too.”
Her stomach went tight with need when he ran his hands over her sides. He blazed a trail of hot kisses over her shoulders, the tops of her aching breasts, up one arm to her hand, where he kissed her palm, then her fingertips. Then, reaching into his back pocket, he came back with a leather blindfold.
She let out a small gasp, part fear, part anticipation. He was quiet as he slipped it over her eyes, adjusting it to make sure it was secure.
“Good girl. Breathe. Yeah. I like that you have no idea what I’m going to do to you. I love that element of surprise. Are you ready?”
“Yes,” she murmured, desire running hot in her veins, in her pulsing sex, driving away the edge of panic that always came with being blindfolded. Panic, and a sense of freedom, of release.
He kissed her cheek, her jaw, then her lips, and she tilted her face, hungry for his mouth, but he pulled away.
“Ah, ah, don’t be too eager, princess. I’m running the show right now, and you’re in my hands. Give yourself over to me.”
She sighed, her body full of wanting so keen it hurt. But she took another cleansing breath and tried to calm herself, to force herself to comply.
“Better,” he murmured, running his hands over her skin. “So beautiful, my love. More beautiful than ever, I swear it.”
He kissed her stomach, grazing her skin with his teeth, and she shivered.
“You like that, do you? That little bit of pain?”
He slipped a hand between her thighs, making her gasp, but just as quickly he pulled away.
“You are going to kill me, you know,” she grumbled.
He laughed. “Oh, I think you’ll survive.”
“What did I say about giving yourself over to me? You can’t see, can’t really move. And I may want to spend the entire evening teasing you. You may as well relax into it, since you’ve no other choice. Unless you want to call ‘red’ and end the scene?”
She groaned. “You’re so mean to me.”
“Yes, but you like it. And so do I. In case you’ve forgotten, I’m a bit of a sadist.”
“As if you’d ever let me forget.”
“Damn right,” he said, chuckling. He grabbed a handful of flesh at her waist and squeezed, bringing her the pain she needed so badly. Then he pinched her there, making her yelp. “Aw, poor thing,” he teased, but he kissed the small, hurting spot just above her hip.
He kissed her there again, then once more before moving lower, kissing and biting his way down her thigh. Her sex grew wet, but when she tried to squeeze her legs together, he forced them apart with strong hands.
Gears were turning in her head, like pieces of clockwork falling into place, and she knew it was that lethal combination of him tormenting her with pleasure and glimpses of the pain she craved. He knew exactly what he was doing, as always. There was a certain relief in that, even though she wanted him to really hurt her—needed him to. She felt as if she’d been left hungry for months, and was starving for sensation now. He knew it, of course. He would handle her need the way he chose. There wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it.
That thought made her go loose all over, and she pulled in another long breath.
He continued his slow, lovely torture, kissing her skin, running his fingertips over her heated flesh, grazing the tops of her breasts, her inner thighs. He kissed his way down her spine, starting at the top of her neck and moving down an inch at a time, so gently she could barely stand it. Then he grabbed her and yanked her in so tight she could feel every hard muscle in his big body. She melted into him, her brain emptying out.