His eyes soften. “I guess you should go home. By the looks of it, you’ve had a rough day.” I nod, and he walks with me to my car. I don’t want to go. I have this desire to be right next to him, I’m disappointed at the thought of leaving. I don’t even know his name. “My name is Liam,” he says, doing it again. “Can you read minds?” I say out loud, not meaning to. Liam chuckles and I just about melt. He opens the door to my car. No, no, no… that’s not what I wanted at all. “You’re just easy to read,” his voice is so seductive. Reluctantly I step in and stick the key in the ignition. “I’m just ensuring you make it home safely, without any interruptions.” He nods his head toward the bar. I forgot all about the cowboy, about the bar, about why I came here to begin with. Now I’m irritated that he’s pushing me to go. This man is confusing. I mean he’s dripping with sex, and he seems so inviting, but he’s pushing me away. Wasn’t he angry a little while ago? Now I’m confused, and in being so,. My beauty. My treasure. That is all. Your identity stripped away, along with clothing, jewelry, poise, pride. You are only, my beauty. My hand moves from your hip to your arm, and I run long fingers from your shoulder, ever so lightly down to the crook of your elbow, where my fingers linger around that tenderest of spots; gentle at first and then bone deep. You will be bruised , you think. And then, think, please bruise me . My fingers dance lightly now down to your own curved fingers, lace themselves with yours, and squeeze -- not hard, just enough to lay claim to your hand. The hand I've woven into your hair moves your head now. I pull your head forward to rest on my chest, a blessed relief when all your weight centers itself in the middle of your forehead, and all pressure on feet, knees, and back, is relieved. "Who owns you?" "You do, Master." In your mind, our anchor phrase vibrates, loudly, “I belong to Jay completely and without reservation.” You’re whispering, couldn't.
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