Charlotte
The house is quiet when we return. My Master c***s an ear for a moment. “Sounds as though everyone’s out…” He smiles that non-smile that is all his. And all mine.
Levering off his boots, he motions for me to do the same then, his hand offered, leads me up the stairs. In the bedroom, he clicks the door closed behind us, still giving me that soft, slant-wise glance.
He is so beautiful, my dark Master, his eyes creasing, radiating fine lines from the corners. His hair is silvering at the sides, platinum threaded here and there. Tall, lean, he shows no trace of the paunch men often acquire as they grow older. His belt draws around a tight, flat belly, emphasising a straight spine and long legs. The injury he took protecting me often gives him pain if he walks too much, but his thi
