can feel Camille’s sk epticism as I finish off her arms-forward harness. With her fists together under her chin, she’s taken on that calm, serene expression she always does when I’m binding her. Even so, I can tell she wants to say something. Likely, she wants to ask me how I’m feeling. Maybe I still seem tense. Fuck, I am still tense. Tonight wasn’t just about the club. I’m proud of how the grand reopening went. Even after everyone we knew left and the patrons began to play, I could feel a sense of pride for what we’ve created. But it’s about so much more than that. It’s about tying up loose ends here in Paris. Ironically, that’s exactly what I’m doing now with Camille. Finding the friction center of her harness, I wind the long synthetic rope through and slip it through the hoop above her head. As I make eye contact with her, I ask, “Are you ready?” She nods confidently. With that, I gently pull on the rope until she has to stand on the balls of her feet. I won’t suspend her like this yet. I intend to have her hanging upside down in an inversion, but first, I need to finish the harness on her legs. “Are you feeling okay?” I ask, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Yes,” she r eplies. “Are you?” I give her a look that’s partially scolding. “This isn’t about me,” I whisper. A small crowd of people have gathered around our station, watching us work, but neither of us pay them any mind. We’ve k ept the back room mostly the same with some upgrades in decor, furniture, and security. But the main purpose of this room is for demonstrations and, well, showing off.
And right now, I’m showing off this beauty. “It is about both of us,” she whispers in return. “And tonight is very much about you.” I lean down to work on the dragon hip harness, wrapping the doubled rope around the soft flesh of her thigh, careful not to pinch her delicate skin. “Tonight is not about me,” I mutter as I work. Emerson Grant didn’t fly all the way from Briar Point, California, just to see me. These people didn’t show up tonight to see me. They came to see the club. And when I leave, which I someday will have to do, the club will be fine without me. My hands halt as the thought paralyzes me. Leaving Camille feels impossible now, but it can’t be. I’ve just thrown myself into this... relationship... too fast. Just like with Em, I fell too easily. This isn’t like Em, my relentless mind reminds me. Camille sees into my soul. That’s the only way to put it. She has a way of lifting the veil of my mind and crawling inside, but instead of running from the darkness she finds there, she wraps her loving arms around me and thaws everything that froze the day Em died. In the past weeks, she’s changed me. She brought me back to life. How could I leave her after that? I get lost inside my own mind as I finish the harness around her hip. Instead of standing up, I lean forward and press my forehead to her hip bone, inhaling her nearness. “Jack,” she whispers. Snapping out of it, I stand up and walk away. Grabbing another rope from the rack, I do a quick single cuff around her other thigh, but I can feel her watching me with concern. Ignoring it, I loop the second rope through the suspension loop. As I gently pull on it, her left leg raises so she’s left standing on her right foot. She’s not worried about her safety; that I can tell by the look on her face. She’s concerned for me, which is ridiculous.
“I saw the look in that man’s eyes,” she says. “He was very proud of you, and I think you should be proud too.” Ignoring her, I lock off the rope on her left leg so she’s secure. Then I double-check everything to be sure she’s safe. “Jack,” she insists. “Look at me.” When my eyes find hers, she sees through everything. If she could move, I know what she’d do. She’d touch my face and pull my mouth to hers for a kiss. She’d burrow herself in my arms and warm the center of my chest like a glowing fire. “Are you anxious about the club?” she asks. “Or are you anxious about me?” What a time to have this conversation. There are people watching us just a few feet away. She’s about to be hanging upside down, and now is really not the time to be having a relationship talk. “Do you regret bringing me?” she asks. At that, my brows fold inward. I take her face in my hands and softly kiss her forehead. “Not even a little bit.” “Then what is it?” she pleads. Pressing our foreheads together, I stare into her eyes, and it becomes abundantly clear what all this is about—trust. Camille trusts that I won’t hurt her or that I won’t let her get hurt. And it’s not just about ropes and knots and hitches. “I have to tell you something,” I say softly. Her eyes grow soft as if she’s pr eparing herself for the worst. And I know I should just come out with it. I owe her the truth. After all the trust she’s put in me, the least I can do for her is give her everything she’s given me—loyalty and faith. But when I open my mouth, the most true and honest thing I have comes slipping out. “I love you.” I feel like a coward as her eyes water, and she stares at me as if she’s waiting for the real truth.
But that is the truth. I do love her. With my entire heart and probably for longer than I’ve been able to admit, I have loved her. For her flaws and quirks and personality, I adore her so intensely it steals my breath and stops my heart. She walked into my life when I was at my worst and gave me everything I didn’t deserve: patience and grace. But I don’t just love her for what she’s given me; I love her for who she is. Willful and stubborn and funny and curious. From the first moment my ropes touched her skin, I knew I was in trouble. “I love you too,” she whispers. Our faces are so close I’m sure no one around us can see the monumental thing happening between us here, but they don’t matter. I take her mouth in a kiss as she’s half-suspended with only one foot on the floor and her arms tied to her chest. As I pull away, I’m still holding the rope to her right leg in my hands. With a smile, I ask, “Do you trust me?” She grins in return. “Of course.” I toss the rope through the suspension loop a couple of times to give it strength and stability. Then, using the hoop as a lever, I tug on the rope until Camille’s right foot leaves the floor. Her head falls back as she hangs in a horizontal position. Locking the rope in place so her bent legs are off the floor, I hold a hand behind her neck for support. “Are you okay?” I ask. She smiles up at me. “Yes.” “Ready to go upside down?” She nods. Reaching up, I give the rope holding her chest harness some slack, and as I do, her upper half lowers until she’s inverted. The people standing around us clap quietly, watching Camille with interest. I double-check each lock-off knot to ensure its security. She can only stay in this position for a minute, so after checking in with her a couple more
times, I give the loop a small spin. Then I st ep back and admire her from this angle. She looks stunning like this. It’s the trust she gives me and the way her body relaxes into the ropes that make her look almost angelic like this. With the single braid in her hair hanging below her head, she closes her eyes as she hovers, slowly rotating midair like the work of art she is. Her cheeks turn dark red as the blood flushes her skin. I glance around at the people watching, admiring her the way I am. A couple nearby whisper to each other excitedly. “Do you teach people how to do this?” the woman asks, and I nod. “We’ll offer workshops,” I r eply, and she grins excitedly, clinging to her partner’s arm. “It’s like... art,” the man adds as he turns his head sideways, appreciating how stunning she looks. I nod, watching Camille as she slowly spins in her suspension. And I realize this is what it’s all about. We had it wrong all along. Before tonight, the club lacked a soul. I had no idea what went into bringing this place to life, even when I worked here for years before owning it. Maybe Matis and Ronan tried to explain it to me, but I wasn’t listening. I just figured if we k ept it open and made money, that was enough. I assumed it was about sex, money, and pleasure. Even I exploited this club because I was in pain, but in doing so, I missed out on what it’s really all about. A place to belong. A place to find yourself. Like Emerson said, it was never about sex. It’s about the people. Camille is resting against my chest on the ride home. For the first time in a long time, I am at ease.
I can’t help but wonder if I didn’t tell Camille the truth about moving back home because maybe that isn’t my truth anymore. I could stay for her. And for the club. That pull to get out of Paris is gone now. Right now, I only want this. When we get back to the apartment, I pay the babysitter and see her to the car so she gets home safely. Camille is already up in my room when I get back inside. I do a quick check on Bea, watching her sle ep peacefully in her bed before closing the door and walking upstairs. Camille is lying on her side, fully naked, on top of my bed. I stand in the doorway and stare at her as I loosen my tie. “I was looking forward to undressing you,” I say as I tear my tie off. The corner of her mouth lifts in a smirk. “I thought I would save you the trouble.” Rather than go to the bed, I drop into the chair in the corner of the room. Leaning back, my legs spread as I stare at her naked body draped across my bed. Sliding my tie through my fingers, my cock hardens in my slacks. Filthy ideas fill my mind as my arousal builds. Just the sight of her has me practically panting, and I know exactly what I’d like to see. “Let me see how you touch yourself, little bird.” Her lips part at my command. Camille has such strong-willed confidence, but the moment it comes to sex, she turns bashful, and I find it so fucking adorable. Makes me want to dirty her up that much more. Her hesitation is brief, and I take that as a testament to the trust we’ve built. She is safe and comfortable with me. Biting her bottom lip, she spreads her legs only halfway and slides her hand between her thighs. Through hooded lids, I watch her slip her finger through her folds and sink the middle one inside her, letting out a soft mewling sound as she does. It is as stunning as I imagined. She moves with delicate grace, slowly losing her composure as the pleasure takes over. Her fingers move
faster, and her chest shudders with each shaking breath. “Ke ep going,” I say, my grip tightening on the black silk tie in my fingers. I watch her play with her pretty pussy like she and I have all the time in the world. And maybe we do. It’s such a foreign conc ept to me now, to have so much time with someone and no dark clouds waiting on the horizon. With her back arched and her legs writhing on the mattress, she pumps her slick fingers in and out. I can both see and hear it, and it has me fidgeting in my seat. I’m imagining it’s my cock sinking inside her, and it moistens at the tip at the mere thought. “I’m ready for you, little bird,” I command with a rasp in my tone. “Crawl to me.” As she pulls her hand from between her legs, I see the moisture on her digits. “But first,” I bark, watching her from across the room, “lick them clean.” With arousal in her eyes, she lifts her hand to her mouth and sticks out her tongue. With a moan, she sucks on her middle finger, and it takes everything in me not to march over there right now and fuck her like the animal I am. She does this to me. She makes me wild for her. “Come here, now.” I’m gripping the edges of the chair as she climbs down from the bed. Once she gets to all fours, she ke eps her eyes on me as she crawls slowly toward me. She’s torturing me because she can. When she finally meets my feet, I reach down and bury my hand in her hair. Dragging her face up to mine, I kiss her hard. I take ownership of her mouth, my tongue invading and licking every inch of her before biting on her bottom lip to hear her cry out.
“Mine,” I growl, making her smile against my lips. “Mine,” she r eplies just as her hand squeezes my rigid length through my pants. “It is yours,” I say with a smirk. “So take it out and show me how you worship it.” My hand stays in her hair as she unclasps my buckle and pulls down the zipper of my pants. Her movements aren’t rushed, but I can feel her excitement as she reaches in and encircles her fingers around my hard shaft. Without wasting a second, she wraps her soft, wet lips around the head of my cock, kissing it gently. Then she slides the tip of her tongue along the slit at the end, and my hips levitate off the chair. “Fuck, baby,” I growl breathlessly. “Do that again.” Smiling, she lowers her head and kisses the tip again, slipping the tip of her tongue into the slit. My head hangs back as she kneels at the altar of my cock, proving her filthy devotion. “Good girl,” I mumble. “Good fucking girl.” My words grow incoherent as she eases her lips down to the base of my cock or at least as far as she can go before she starts to gag. Each time, she works her mouth lower. Feeling the back of her throat, I grip the chair tightly to ke ep from coming. My shaft is slick with her saliva as it pools at the base, but she doesn’t let up, going lower and lower each time. And when she starts to fondle my sac, I nearly lose my mind. With a muffled sound, I tear her off and watch as a drop of cum leaks from the tip of my dick. “That was close,” I say, panting. Holding her arm, I drag her onto my lap until she’s straddling me. With her perfect little breasts in my face, I take my time kissing each one. Biting the nipple makes her gasp and purr, so I tease her a while longer.
And when I finally dock myself at her entrance, her cunt and my cock are both soaked. With our eyes on each other, I ease inside her until she’s seated as far as she can go. My body is rigid and still as she steals my mouth with a kiss. Then, with our foreheads pressed together, I guide her hips up and down. Between each thrust, I mumble incoherently. “So tight, little bird. So perfect.” She hums to ke ep from screaming, picking up speed to chase her own pleasure. “We were made for each other, Camille.” Holding me tightly, she stares into my eyes as she moves, pounding her body on my lap harder and faster. I watch her expression change into ecstasy. Reaching down, I press my thumb to her clit. Her eyes close, and her lips part. Before long, her pussy tightens around my cock. “That’s it,” I murmur. “Good girl. Come on my cock.” Her spine curls and her legs squeeze around me as she rides out her orgasm, and I swear it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I fucking love watching her come. And like the good girl she is, she ke eps up her movement on my lap so that I can chase my own release after her. Watching and feeling her finish sends me over the edge. With a tight grip on her hips, I pound her down on my cock until my own climax takes hold. Throwing my head back, I spill my cum inside her. Pleasure radiates down my spine, and for a long time, I can hardly breathe. I just feel her, smell her, taste her. She makes everything better, even my fucking orgasms. When we’re both spent, we collapse together in the chair. She’s resting against my chest, no doubt listening to my heart pound inside my rib cage.
For a moment, everything is perfect.