Chapter 30

“ARE YOU READY?” TRISTAN asked.

“No,” she replied, unusually succinct.

He gave her a stern, quirked-brow master’s look that signaled it was time to get serious.

“Yes and no?” she said, amending her answer.

“Is this last-minute cold feet?”

“I’m prepared for the stage, sir. But, um, I should mention that I have a thing about heights. Not a full-blown phobia or anything, but I thought you should know.”

He closed his eyes, and seconds went by as if he was counting to ten. When they opened, he said with a tinge of annoyance, “This information would’ve been good to have forty-five minutes ago before I began tying you up.”

“Right, my apologies,” she said, looking at the round stage still recessed in the floor. “Never mind. I’ll be fine.”

He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close, their bodies coming together from chest to knee. “Of course, you will, since I’ll be with you,” he assured her. “It will help if you keep your eyes focused on me the entire time.”

She did so now, her gaze drinking in every handsome feature from the top of his smooth, gleaming head, which she’d watched him shave as they got ready for the evening, to his eyes, more blue than gray these days, to the neatly trimmed beard she loved running her fingers through. Of course, Tristan would take care of her. She was silly to have worried.

“I trust you implicitly, sir. I also have a failsafe. If I’m tied in your ropes and bound to a pole, how could I possibly fall?”

He kissed her, lingering and poignant, with all the love he professed to her each morning upon waking and every night before she fell asleep in his arms.

“Let’s try this again,” he murmured, his lips brushing hers. “Are you ready?”

“Yes, sir,” she replied more confidently.

“That’s my brave imp.”

He escorted her to the center of the stage and then pointed at the floor. “Kneel at my feet for the ride up.”

He’d already tied her into a butterfly harness with her arms stacked, wrist to the opposite elbow behind her back in a way that arched her spine and made her breasts stand out even more. The intricate knots, which were artfully disguised anchor points, had taken the most time in the suspension room upstairs. He’d shown her his work in the mirrors. In a word, it was stunning.

Tristan steadied her with his fingers curled around her upper arm as she sank to her knees. After being his rope submissive for months now, she was practiced, and it was no longer necessary, but she loved his touch and how attentive he always was with her.

After he activated the lift through the control panel on the floor, he quickly returned to her, his hand cupping her head as she leaned against his leg, accepting his strength and security. Already halfway to rope space from the preliminaries, Piper surrendered to the floaty feeling Tristan’s touch inspired.

When the stage stopped at its zenith, thirty feet up, before he activated the spotlight, Tristan whispered, “It’s showtime, sunshine. Anything I should know before we begin?”

“Yes, master. I’m ready to fly,” she softly replied.

A beam of blue light gleamed down on them from above the next instant, and a ripple of murmurs swept through the audience below. Piper could sense their excitement and feel their eyes upon her as Tristan secured the suspension ropes—two at her back and one at her hips. With him working behind her, she couldn’t use him to stay focused, so she closed her eyes and let her body relax under his expert command.

Losing one sense heightened others, she’d heard. The heady scent of leather and the lemon oil they used to polish the wood, a combination both sharp and sweet, filled the vast room, and the heart-thumping drum beat of the alternative rock in the background amplified the mood. But her tactile senses, more so than any other, took over.

Every brush of his hand or tug as he tightened a knot seemed magnified. She followed his commands, and, when she physically couldn’t, he moved her where he wanted her to be. When his fingers deftly rechecked all the knots and pressure points, lightly brushing a nipple or grazing her inner thighs, she moaned, so aroused she couldn’t keep from it.

“I feel it too, baby. Hang in there. We’re almost done.”

Two more tugs, and he shifted her onto her side.

“Now for the pièce de résistance ,” Tristan murmured.

Piper would have teased him about his atrocious French accent any other time, but she was too far into rope space to think of anything clever. The next moment, she was actually flying as Tristan lifted her off the floor in a three-point suspension facedown in midair. He made a few adjustments, adding ropes around her ankles and bending her knees until her feet above her behind pointed softly like a dancer.

She seemed weightless, the ropes supporting her in a display of trust and surrender. From the gasps and excited murmurs of the onlookers, she could guess it was both beautiful and sensual.

“We call this the Scorpion,” he said as he stepped slightly back, although not out of reach, and let her slowly revolve so their audience could appreciate her from every angle.

She wanted to see, too, but there were no mirrors high above the main floor.

Tristan’s hands moved over her, stopping her when she faced him. He leaned in close, his breath hot against her ear. “You are stunning. A more perfect rope sub I couldn’t ask for. I enjoy showing off your beauty, but I also want to make it crystal clear to everyone, just like my ropes and the diamond ring on your finger, who you belong to.”

“I’m yours, master,” she breathed.

“Damn straight,” he growled, but it softened to a whispered, “I love you,” before he took her mouth so tenderly, it inspired sighs from the romantics in the crowd.

But passion’s fire that always blazed hot between them took over soon enough, and Tristan’s tongue plunged hungrily inside. Her breasts, swollen from the constriction, her nipples hard and erect, and the crotch rope he almost always employed to keep her on edge, combined with his words of love and, yes, possession, which she didn’t mind one bit, sent her soaring. The chains overhead clinked as she trembled and came with no more stimulation than the ropes, his kiss, and the words of love and commitment uttered by the rope master himself.

Tristan held her through the aftershocks and then signaled the end of their scene by extinguishing the spotlight. He eased her to the stage floor and disconnected her from the suspension chains above them.

Next, he hit the switch that lowered the platform. He held her securely as it descended while untying everything except her arms and harness. Once they were back on solid ground, someone handed him a soft, fuzzy blanket. He wrapped her in it and cradled her in his arms as he navigated the bustling circuit.

“Where are we going?” she asked drowsily.

“Upstairs to our apartment. I’m done with crowds for the night.”

“Too bad. Just when I was getting used to them.”

He halted in his tracks. “If that’s the case, there’s a free bondage table we can avail ourselves of.”

“Oh no. Upstairs is good. Better, in fact.”

“You’re sure?” he asked, but he was already walking again.

“Pay me no mind. The feel-good chemicals are doing the talking.”

“I imagine so. You were definitely flying.”

“Still am,” she replied, snuggled closer. “I’ve experienced rope space, being rope drunk, but tonight I achieved a whole other level.”

“What’s that?”

“Rope orgasm. And I’ve gotta say, sir, it makes me happier than a cow in clover.”

Heads turned as a sound, once unusual but becoming more common by the day, wafted over the playroom—Master Tristan’s laughter. Now a soft chuckle, it continued until the elevator doors slid shut, leaving them alone.

“Have I told you today how much I love you?” he asked, the warmth of his humor still glinting in his blue eyes.

She raised her hand to stroke his jaw, loving the soft tickle of his beard against her fingertips. “Only twice, by my count. You’re short by several dozen.”

“Good thing we decided kisses also count on the tally. Let me see what I can do to catch up.” Tristan lowered his head and claimed her mouth, communicating his love and passion, not just as her rope master, rigger, and former neighbor with benefits, but as her husband-to-be, their wedding six weeks away.

FROM THEIR BOOTH AT the far end of the room, Eric and Val watched as Tristan and Piper disappeared into the crowd. Even though they wouldn’t take their marriage vows for several more weeks, they had already joined the ranks of the unavailable in their circle, like Cassie and Flynn, Esme and Keiran.

Val sighed. “I so love a happy ending. Especially when the couple is perfect for each other.”

“Who’s next, I wonder?”

Val snuggled deeper into her husband’s embrace, her body still tingling from their session upstairs in the e-stim room. “Can’t we bask in their romance for a few hours at least?”

“Only a few hours?”

“Mm-hmm. Piper told me something very interesting about Josie and Master Axyl the other day.”

“Our Leather and Lace proprietor? She didn’t join, and, when I called her about our next vendor fair, she didn’t sound like she intended to come back.”

“Yes, and isn’t that curious since she sold out completely at the last one? Who gives up on a customer base like she’d have here at Decadence? There’s more to this than meets the eye.”

“It sounds like you’re hatching a matchmaking plot. You know that’s frowned upon and strictly against the rules.”

She wiggled out from under the master dom’s heavy arm and gaped at him. “You had a hand in Piper and Tristan getting together.”

“I did not,” he said, heartily offended.

“Does the word exquisite ring a bell?”

“That was a comment, well placed and on the money. Not some nefarious plot.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I sense a double standard here.”

He chuckled, and it grew into a laugh.

“What’s funny?”

“What do you think a power exchange is, if not a double standard, sprite? Now get back here,” he said, extending his arm so she could snuggle up against him again. “I’m not through holding you yet.”

She settled in. “Good thing this power exchange has a lot of perks.”

“You love it, and you love me, and you just said you love a happily ever after, so stop complaining.”

Val sighed. “You’ve got me there.”

Eric tugged on her ponytail and angled her face up to his. Before his mouth covered hers, he whispered, “And you’ve got me. Because I love it, too, and you, and our extremely happy, happily ever after. Now, kiss me.”

She didn’t complain or argue, stretching to reach his lips. As soon as they touched, he took over, kissing her thoroughly until she couldn’t breathe or think.

A few minutes later, the master dom followed in the rope master’s wake, taking his subbie wife upstairs for a little private time.