“He looked at her, amazed with her sudden nerves. “Sweetheart… marrying was never on any list of mine.” He reached for her hand and held it tightly in his. “But marrying you… now that’s something different.”
“Everything you do.. defies any dream I've ever dreamed. You're so much more perfect to me than I ever knew how to wish for. ~Tara Mae~”
“My Wife, I get to keep you forever. ~Lucian Bane~”
“I gave her my heart. I don’t need a man or paperwork to do that. Nor do I need it to guarantee that I am her husband until death should part us.” Lucian sat in the awkward silence for what felt like eons, waiting for hell-fire and brimstone. “Well I never.” She fiddled with a pale yellow handkerchief in her hands. “My Wilbur was just like that. So romantic. Wilbur’s her granddad, you know. He passed three years ago.”
“They wanna talk? They wanna be stupid? They wanna judge? Fine! Fine, let them judge this! The King and Queen Doms are coming to town,” she nodded, “that’s right, we’re coming and we’re going to fire up Maplewood.”
“I can’t wait to meet her. And start a new life that involves us lying our asses off to her. Yay.”
“Yeah!” she nodded more vigorously. “They wanna talk? They wanna be stupid? They wanna judge? Fine! Fine, let them judge this! The King and Queen Doms are coming to town,” she nodded, “that’s right, we’re coming and we’re going to fire up Maplewood.”
“Yes! BOOM bitches! Dom USA is coming home and we’re bringing the kink!”
“Holy. Shit,” Lucian whispered when they were alone. “Love, you neglected to tell me that she was a fireball!” he busted out in silent laughter and Tara put her head on his chest, welcoming his tight embrace. “I fucking love her, oh my God.” He took her face in his hands and looked at her, smiling. “Tara Mae.”
“Tara… marrying you is getting heaven... only without having to die.”
“And the scary hairy vaginas in vacuum sealed packages!” “And the pee-in-your-ass-douches!”
“And what kind of farm do you have here, I thought that was metaphorical for the amount of space or something.” She smiled dreamily up at him. “Just herbs and stuff. The medicinal kind.”
“Oh you would have loved him. My Wilber was all heart. And farts. That man couldn’t walk five steps without tooting.” She gave a soft giggle in memory. “I do miss that. Not the farts so much, just… the little things.”
“I suddenly knew that the man I called daddy,” she shook her head, “he wasn’t my daddy. God was,” she barely managed. “And he was tryin’ to tell my broken heart that. Because I wanted my daddy’s love sooooo bad.”
“Lucian. She's not normal. She's got the sex drive of Ursula. I'm so ashamed to say I've faked illnesses and gone to the doctor just to have a doctor's excuse! ~Steve~”
“Well…” Steve contemplated, taking her question seriously. “The blow up dolls could very easily be dressed in normal clothes and called plain ole’ dolls.” Lucian and Tara bent over each other, unable to breathe while Steve continued, oblivious. “For the god-awful gaping hole on its face we could… maybe fill with candy or… each could have a special message saying they’re so happy and excited to finally have a little girl to belong to and call their own. A sister.” Lucian kicked his feet and rocked in fits, his sides hurting now. “Oh my God,” Tara squeaked. “Candy!” She held on to Lucian and peeped, “She’s so happy!”
“She reads these books. She doesn’t know that I know, but I’ve seen them and they’re full of sex. I am sure she sleeps with other men when I’m gone, with the way she carries on with me when I’m home.” “Carries on with you?” “When I am home,” he hissed. “She is a living, breathing, penis-raping-machine.”
“All to prove to her I’m not lying and I’m not sleeping around on her. She’s a vagina with arms, and legs, and two faces. Do you know what it’s like to have your penis ridden by a two-hundred thirty pound woman?” He stood now, looking traumatized.”
“a she-demon with a tunnel to Hades between her ever-scissoring legs? You had better staff a priest, my friend. A satanic priest.” Lucian fell to the floor now, kicking and holding his stomach. “Stop!” he begged, sobbing. “Stop, no more.”
“He stared into her eyes, now the size of holy-shit-balls. Twenty-twenty? She should be able see the fucking atoms in the air.”
“We don’t want America thinking that the D/s lifestyle is strictly about how much pain you can give and receive, how many people you can control and manipulate, but it’s about two people exploring one another—a vanilla couple—and being fulfilled. And I don’t just mean sexually, but emotionally and mentally--”
“You’re fine, Luscious.” “Lucian. Gramma. It’s Lucian.” She eyed him. “I can’t say I like you strutting around Missouri in blue jeans and a black t-shirt like some model out of a magazine.”
“and fought to get them out. Finally she managed the black framed glasses. “Pert-near twenty-twenty vision with these.” He stared into her eyes, now the size of holy-shit-balls. Twenty-twenty? She should be able see the fucking atoms in the air. “I think I should drive, Dorothy.”
“Her purse came at his head and he threw up his arm to block it. “I’m not your damn Gramma!”
“Was it possible, she wondered, to have solitude together? She tried to imagine what he would do if after dinner she went to his study back home with her book or her laptop, and sat on the couch there instead of in the living room as they had in the early years. He might glance over the top of his computer with a look of surprise and then a smile of welcome. Hey there. Or there might be a moment's hesitation. She'd sit quietly nearby, each of them feeling the weight of the other int he room and a dampening of his or her own thoughts, each looking up expectantly when the other shifted in a chair or looked off into the middle distance. She might offer a snippet of commentary about something she was reading, but it would not be easily understood out of context. After an hour or so she would stand and stretch, murmur that sh though she'd call it a night, and the following night she'd go back to the living room. It was a gift, solitude. But solitude with another person, that was an art.”
“Good kitty"
"Why do you encourage them?"
"They're good kitties."
"They're your minions."
"Everyone needs a minion or two"
"You won't be so pleased when you find me ground up in their food bowl one day.”
“Sicarius stood behind them, not bothering to hide his face as the breeze rifled through his short blond hair. He hadn’t drawn a weapon yet, and Amaranthe hurried to catch up, to keep him from doing so.
First one security man glanced over his shoulder and jumped, then the second emulated the move.
Sespian lifted a hand. “Don’t hurt—”One of the men pointed to the side of Sicarius, cried, “Look, enforcers!” and hurled himself past Sespian and into the river. The second man squeaked, scuttled backward until his shoulders rammed against the railing, then grabbed it and also propelled himself into the water. His lantern caught and dropped to the deck instead of falling overboard. It clanked and highlighted a dubious puddle before tipping over and winking out. Amaranthe had forgotten how much Sicarius’s reputation affected the average person.”
“I worry about Lily, sluggish as she is. Will she see Carter's truths? Will he tell her? God knows she won't hear them. She's moving too fast to hear anyone's music but her own. She's so set, but I know he could make her settled. I tried to sync their noise into music, but they both pushed back. Too obdurate to be oblong.
Silly Lily. How can she resist someone who brings gum and sounds like math?”
“One believed what one was told to believe, what it made sense to believe. Unless one was a foreigner, of course, or a philosopher.”
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