“Good girl.” With his fingers under my chin, he tilts my head up to kiss me chastely. With his hand still there, his eyes searching mine, he tells me, “I got you something.”
Surprised, I still, searching his eyes for what it could be. There’s a mischievousness there and I love it.
He smirks. “You love gifts, don’t you?”
“I do,” I admit in a whisper and then sit upright on the bed, cross-legged with the blanket settled in my lap and not quite covering my breasts. My ass is still sore, but as he reaches into the bedside drawer, I can hardly pay the pain any mind. It’s a good sting, one that adds to the residual pleasure.
A slim rectangular black box wrapped with a ribbon is revealed as he turns around. At first, I thought it was a ring maybe. I’m surprised by the disappointment that lingers for only a second.
“I thought you could wear it tomorrow,” he tells me.
As I lean forward, he offers me the jewelry box. I pull at the red satin ribbon, letting it fall to the bed and open the gift.
A delicate rose gold chain lays in the box and hanging from it, a woven diamond ring. The sparkling layers are entwined with rose gold shaped like flower petals.
“Z?”
“It’s a promise ring and a collar,” he tells me calmly but with something else there.
“A promise?”
“That I’m yours and you are mine, and I will take care of you, Ella. For as long as you will have me.”
“That will be forever then,” I answer quickly, teasingly almost but I can’t hide the emotion that chokes me up. I’m quick to remove the chain and brush my hair back to put it on. It’s long enough that the ring hangs low and rests between my breasts. I imagine the dress will cover it and I kind of like it that way. It’s a promise the world won’t see. Not unless I want them to.
“I’d like to get you one too, maybe?” I offer him as I slip the necklace around my neck. Z helps me when I struggle with the clasp.
He doesn’t respond at first and my heart runs wild, wondering if he wouldn’t want that. We’ve never talked about rings or marriage or children or any of that. And just as the insecurity sweeps in, he kisses the crook of my neck and his touch alleviates any and every doubt.
“I would like that very much,” he murmurs at the shell of my ear and then pulls back just enough for me to be able to stare into his gorgeous hazel eyes. I want to ask him if tomorrow could be our first and last public outing. If we show the world our love and that I’m fine, and then we vanish. We give them just enough to leave us alone.
I want to say so much and make plans, but all of them jumble and I don’t know how to say it right. I want him to myself. I want to be left alone with him. It doesn’t sound right in my head, though, so I settle on a single truth instead.
“I love you,” I confess. Unable to move or do anything else out of fear that this will all go away if I do.
“I love you, Ella. More than you know.”