Sold to the mafia

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Catherine

I type away and continue hitting the keys even though I hear him coming. I just have to get this thought out before I forget. I was hit with a wave of inspiration for this scene and I don’t want to lose it. I’ve been writing steadily ever since we moved into the new house. My office has a huge window, just like it did at our old place. Well, this one’s even bigger, but the feeling is the same.

He walks up behind me at the back of my desk and rests his hands on my shoulders, but other than that, he doesn’t interrupt. It only takes a minute for me to finish my thought and when I do, I’m quick to look up at him and give him a small smile. I reach my hand behind his neck and pull him down to me for a kiss.

“Mmm.” He hums against my lips. “What is my naughty girl up to?” I blush at his low tone and rest my head against his chest.

“I wanted to write our story.” I feel him stiffen behind me, but I keep going and decide to spill it all. “All of our stories.”

“Kitten,” Anthony says in an admonishing tone.

“No, no. It’s fiction. Under a pen name. No one will ever know.” I look up at him searching for approval. I love romance novels, and I just have to write all these love stories I’ve heard. The whole family is filled with fairytales, albeit dirty smutty fairytales, that have to be told. I’ve never felt compelled so much in my life to write them down. Ours will be last, because in my completely unbiased opinion, it’s the best.

He smirks at me and places a hand on the nape of my neck, massaging slightly. “Can I read them?”

“If you want to.” I wouldn’t be shocked if he did. He reads over my work from time to time. I used to think he was making sure that I wasn’t trying to put clues or hints out there for someone to come rescue me from him. As if. But then he started doing things in bed that were incredibly familiar from my blogs and columns.

“Well, I definitely want to read ours. I wanna know what my kitten was thinking when I brought her home.” He smiles warmly at me with love in his eyes before leaning down to give me a sweet kiss. My chest warms with his affection.

“I have a question I need to know… for the story.” I don’t know what he’ll answer. But I really do want to know. “Why didn’t you have me call you master?” I ask him.

It takes him a moment to answer. “I knew from the second I saw you that I would be just as much a slave to you as you would ever be to me. If not more.” Tears prick my eyes. I fucking love his answer. “Doesn’t matter what you call me, babe,” he says as he tips my chin up so I have to look at him, “You’ll always be my kitten.”

“You’ll always be my bad boy.” That earns me a chuckle as I lean into his chest savoring how happy we both are.

It might not be ideal or perfect, but I’m more than satisfied with my happily ever after.