The morning light streaked through the bathroom window. I leaned back in the bathtub, the warm water washing over me, and sipped my coffee. The latte my husband had made for me, complete with a misshapen blob of foam on top. I smiled to myself thinking of how he'd scowled as he handed it to me, muttering something about "lack of cooperation" from the foam.
I'd been expecting to be sore after our play from last night. Ofcourse after the meeting with King Reager and I with Rea, we had indulged in a lot of making it that has resulted to making love. But last night's was different. We actually used ropes and he was gentle with me. I smile as I replay theg scene again in my head. But I'd woken feeling strangely relaxed. It was probably due to my husband's fussing over me. He'd looked murderous when he saw the rope had left a few marks on my skin and had insisted on rubbing herbs on them after kissing each one.
But I liked being marked by him.
