The following excerpt is rated R for a few references near the end – because I surely wouldn’t want my kids to read it…
If you’re under eighteen, please stop reading now.
To Ian, love was dirty words, whispered quietly in her ear when no one else was listening. Love was a quick grab of her ass when she walked by and a tongue on her neck when she sat close enough. Love, to Ian, was quiet gestures and grand feelings, spoken with his hands.
Ellie spoke Ian’s language. She read the nuance in his movements and knew the thoughts behind his actions, sometimes even before Ian did. Ellie knew that Ian spoke his feelings, not in words, but in his actions.
To Ellie, love was a well cooked meal, a clean house and freshly pressed shirts. Love was anticipating Ian’s needs and taking care of them before he asked. Love was doing all the little things Ian liked, without waiting to be asked.
Ian, like Ellie, spoke his lover’s language fluently. Ian knew that every crisp collar and cuff spoke volumes; every home cooked dinner was sweet nothings to his palette. His nice, clean house was a thing to be treasured, an ‘I love you’ he could see as well as hear.
They lived their life separate from the outside world, engulfed in one another, needing nothing from anyone but each other.
Love was a series of events put into motion by a couple very much in love and determined to prove it to one another. Life was the day to day living of those events; life was of their own making. They worked hard; they played hard; they loved hard.
When Ian had quietly asked about tying her up, Ellie had agreed immediately, wanting nothing more than to please Ian – whether or not she was interested was of no consideration to her. As luck would have it, Ellie liked being tied up.
And she liked her ball gag.
And she really liked Ian’s flogger.
If you liked it, please check out the Anthology.