Blackestnights by Cindy Jacks

reached for a pair of scissors and set about cutting me free. Once he’d freed a limb, he would rub it down with the salve from the bottle he’d brought earlier. Immediately it soothed the burning sting left in the wake of the ropes. When he finally freed my mouth, he gathered me in his arms, smoothing my hair and pressing me to his chest. My body ached from holding such an unnatural pose for so long and I was glad for the comfort and shelter of his embrace.
    After several minutes passed, I looked up at him. Tears glittered in his eyes. “Are you okay?”
    He shook his head, but offered no explanation.
    Finally, he released me. “Let’s get you to bed. You must be exhausted.”
    I nodded.
    As he had the night before, he scooped me up and carried me to the bedroom. Glad to have the help, I was unsure I could even walk at this point. And just as he had the past two nights, he brought a warm washcloth and some over-the-counter painkillers. I gulped them down, the cold water icy against my dry, raw throat.
    Only when he curled up with me did I have the courage to ask, “Is that what you used to do with Mika?”
    He nodded.
    Unsure how I felt about this revelation, I studied his face, his expression. Features tight, lips pressed together, he for once broadcast his emotions clearly.
    “You miss her.” Not a question, a statement.
    “Every day.”
    Tears welled in my eyes and I wanted to flee the house. Was that all I was? A substitute for a dead woman? But I didn’t run. I curled up in a ball, putting distance between me and Black.
    Propping himself up on one elbow, reaching for me, he said, “I’ve upset you.”
    “It’s fine,” I lied.
    “It’s not fine.” Brushing a thumb over my lips, he moved in for a gentle kiss.
    I wanted to reject him, I wanted to tell him to fuck off, but somehow—faced with the only real emotion I’d seen from him—I was powerless to act.
    As we parted, I drew in my lips, tucking them between my teeth. If I couldn’t reject his kisses outright, I could prevent him from tasting me again.
    “Don’t be like that.” He caressed my face. “We shared something special tonight.”
    Had we shared it? Or had he shared it with the ghost of a dead woman? And there was that word “special” again. He liked to toss it around, but never put it in any context. Emotion gripped at my throat, but I would not allow myself to cry.
    “Little Red, I didn’t mean to upset you. I wanted to share Kinbaku with you because it means something to me. Surely you understand that.”
    I didn’t understand. Not yet. Maybe tomorrow in the light of day…
    Sighing, I rolled over. “I’m just tired.”
    “I’m sure you are.” He stroked my hair and shoulders, planting little kisses where his hand alighted.
    Confused and worn out, I gave over to his tenderness. I couldn’t reconcile the man who’d forced me to my knees in a public restroom or the man who’d rammed his cock down my throat, gagging me repeatedly until he came, with the man cuddling with me in bed. If indeed he was cuddling with me and not the memory of his lost lover.
    He kissed my forehead. “Get some rest. You have to write more tomorrow.”
    Though most of our relationship was predicated on doing as he said, it irked me that he thought he could dictate my actions outside of playtime or my training.
    “Tomorrow? I work tomorrow.”
    “We’ll discuss that in the morning.”
    He draped an arm over me. Little by little, his body relaxed, his breathing evened out, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t sleep. This was all moving so fast and I wasn’t sure how much further I wanted to go.
    Sexually we were compatible, no doubt about that, but emotionally… Well, I thought we’d connected, but now too many doubts crept in. Was I a substitute for Mika? Did I even want to stay here with Black? And that was another thing. I didn’t even know his real name. He didn’t know mine.
    Granted he was the most intoxicating man I’d ever