But sometimes, there were no games.
Sometimes it was just us, with no artifice. No mitigations or apologies. I wouldn't necessarily say that I preferred one way to the other, but it was awfully nice to have both.
This morning, it was just us.
He was my husband, not my billionaire boss who'd once tried to buy a year of my life. That was our past. Until recently, our future had been unsure. But now, it was clear there was no longer any need for a contract to keep us together.
I melted into his touch, breathless and quivering in his arms. I'd never understood how he could reduce me to this with just the slow, steady rhythm of his hand - but I certainly wasn't about to complain.
Then, just like that, I shattered. Somewhere in the midst of the mind-numbing pleasure, I felt him thrust deep inside me, one last time, his open mouth connecting with my shoulder, teeth sinking in just far enough to leave a red mark.
When I blinked back to life, Daniel was smiling and stroking my hair. He kissed the tip of my nose, and I made a face.
"Happy anniversary," he said, his voice still gravelly from sleep.
I grinned. "Has it been a year already?"
"I know," he replied, lightly grabbing a handful of my hair. "It's a shame, isn't it? I don't own you anymore."
"We'll just have your lawyer draft up something new," I said.
He chuckled, pulling me close and kissing my forehead.
"I love you, sweetheart."
"I love you too," I muttered, against his chest.
I closed my eyes, and just breathed.