The Baby Monitor Caught Him, So I Played It at Sunday Dinner novel · Chapter 19 of 24

Chapter 19: Praise

He gave me his wrists.

He lay back on the quilt with his arms stretched above his head, still wet from the tub, and watched me wind the green wool around them.

I made two turns and a knot, and then I looped the long end around the carved bedpost and tied it again.

I tested it.

It would hold if he pulled, and it would give if he really needed it to.

"Tell me if it's too tight."

"It's not," he said.

"Pull."

He pulled.

The post creaked, and the scarf held, and his chest rose as he understood.

"Oh," he said, low.

"You like that."

"I'm not sure what I like. I just know I want you to keep going," he said.

"Good."

His eyes went half shut.

I knelt on the bed and looked at him, all of him, stretched and bound and flushed in the stove light.

The chipped tooth showed when his mouth fell open.

There was water on his collarbone and his stomach and the dark line of hair below it.

He was hard, jutting against his belly, and I put a single fingertip to the head and drew it down.

"Marty."

"Quiet."

I kissed him slowly, from the mouth to the throat to the hollow of his chest.

I took my time over his nipples with my teeth.

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