Mirror of My Soul, Joey Hill [ereader iphone .txt] 📗

him to her mouth. “You asked for a kiss.”

Brendan had expected a tender press of lips. He was wrong. She opened her mouth to his, delved deep into him, pressing her body into his, letting him feel her fragility and strength together. Oddly, it brought the platonic memory of the teenager who curled around him, keeping his fears at bay. Just as it brought the memory of the woman who had given him emotional release through a storm of sexual sensation.

Desire surged through him, tingling low in his back where her brand rested.

When she pulled back, she did so only several inches, those blue eyes a handspan from his. “Thank you for being the first boy to love me, Brendan. For loving me, period.

And for reminding me why it’s important to live.”

“You could never have failed me in any way, Mistress,” he managed, his voice

thick. “There’s nothing you owe me.”

“I reserve the right to overrule you on the failure part.” She framed his face in her hands so he could not look away, though he would never presume to disrespect her that way. “I love you, then and now,” she said softly. “I should have told you that when you were six. And you are very important to me. I missed you very much when you left. I stole your sheets off the bed so I could smell your little boy smell for at least a week after. Thank you for being that important to me.”

“Mistress,” he said, low, his voice choked with emotion. She touched him, raised to her toes and laid her lips on his again. This time it was what he’d originally expected and more. Just the pressure, perhaps not even sexual in nature, just loving. Giving.

Intimate in the ways she’d not allowed herself before. When she finally drew back, he pressed his cheek to her temple and they danced on while the fairy lights and laughter danced around them.

“Brendan,” she said at last, quietly. “I have a favor to ask.”

“Anything my Mistress desires.”

“Can you go talk to the DJ for me?”

When the song ended, under a wealth of fascinated eyes, Marguerite turned and

walked across the grass in her bare feet toward her groom, who left his friends to meet her halfway. She put her hands into his just as the DJ announced, “A special request, from the bride to the groom.”

“Was that necessary?”

She smiled, remembering a different time when he’d asked the same question. A

heartbeat later, he remembered as well and cocked his head, giving her a rueful smile.

“And the same boy. Are you going to force me to kill this kid before he gets the chance to experience puberty?”

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“Brendan is no younger proportionately to me than I am to you, old man.” She

moved into his arms, stroked his nape, her eyes glinting with mischief.

“Keep it up.” He pursed his lips, smoothly moving her into a turn and then into an elegant dip that had her lips curving. He kept her there, traced a finger up her neck, holding her easily with one arm, letting her feel that strength that he could use for or against her. “We’ll leave this party and I’ll spend all night showing you just how old and doddering I am. This is nice, by the way.” His expression got tender as she realized he was also listening to the words, acknowledging the careful choice she’d made.

The DJ had begun the soulful rendition of “Because You Loved Me”, by Jo Dee

Messina. As the female vocalist softly noted how she had survived the darkness of the world only because of one person’s love, Tyler’s heart was in his eyes. He turned her in the steps of a waltz, cradling her body, letting her lean into him. She recognized his attempts to give her some rest, his protective nature asserting itself.

“I suppose I’ll have to suffer that kiss,” he said at last. “Considering that the ladies I’ve had the pleasure to call my obedient submissives have been groping, fondling, kissing with tongue and otherwise doing everything they can to convince themselves I’m off the market.”

She’d let her hair down after the ceremony. Now he gathered it up and held it to one side to place his lips on her neck, keeping them there while they were dancing.

“And don’t think I didn’t notice all of it.”

“I was hoping you might. God, women are ten times more aggressive than men. If you want to instigate a catfight, I’d be happy to make sure the sprinklers turn on so it can become a mud wrestling contest. Clothes optional.”

“Oh. I like that.” It took him a startled moment to realize she wasn’t talking about his suggestion, had ignored it with her endearing haughtiness. He followed her gaze to where Brendan had taken a seat next to Chloe. She was already engaged in

conversation with him, looking beautiful with her short bob curling wildly around her face, despite the fading bruises that makeup couldn’t quite hide and the cane next to the chair to support her when her leg tired.

“But I thought he was…”

“He’s bi. And he’s just looking for someone who speaks to his heart. He’s very eclectic.”

“And what about a Mistress?”

“He has one.” She slanted him a glance up from beneath her lashes, teasing him.

“Though I wouldn’t be surprised if Chloe didn’t have the makings of a Mistress when he has need of it. It’s very empowering, the feeling of a man’s submission to you.

Addictive even.”

“Hmmm.” He drew her more firmly to him, loving this new side of her that had

been emerging over the past several weeks. “You might just make me consider crossing over.”

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She locked her hands around his neck, her tone softening with affection. “I’m sure I won’t live long enough to see that. You’re a Master, through and through.”

“Your Master. Yours only, tonight’s liberties notwithstanding.” His eyes sparkled, but the set of his mouth was serious, firm, making her want to bite at his