“One last good night?” Nora offered. It was all she had to give.

Lance nodded instead of speaking. They drove in silence to her house and in silence they entered it. In silence they kissed and in silence she led him to the bedroom.

All night long he lavished attention on her body. He spent an hour kissing and teasing her breasts. She spent another hour beating him black and blue with her floggers, single-tails and canes. For his sake she wanted to leave him with bruises that would last for weeks. For her sake she wanted to know that he would carry the imprint of their time together on his body. She tied him down and rode him until she’d exhausted herself and him with orgasms. Then they slept but only for a while.

Nora awoke in the hour before dawn. She stared at Lance’s sleeping form. Of all the men she’d let in this bed none looked more right in it than Lance. A mix of moonlight and streetlight snuck into the room and revealed the welts and bruises that decorated Lance’s broad, muscled back.

Willpower alone kept her from kissing one beautiful and blackening bruise under his shoulder blade. Instead of touching him or kissing him, she pulled away and tiptoed to her closet. She slipped into a sheer black negligee she’d bought months ago but hadn’t worn yet. Why not? No better time than now. Now was all they had. But she wasn’t finished digging yet. Somewhere in this mess of a walk-in closet...she knew it was here...yes. She found it. The black velvet bag she’d hidden away.

From the top of her closet she pulled down a candle box and a lighter. As Lance slept she lit six of the candles and set them about the room. She had no plans for wax-play unless he asked her for it. She merely wanted to see his body by candlelight for the first and last time.

At last she had the room ready. Sunrise was still an hour away.

Standing at the side of the bed Nora paused, picked up a candle and bent forward. Her lips touched Lance’s shoulder the second the hot wax landed on his back.

Lance twitched and came awake in an instant and sat up. Panting from the shock of the painful awakening, he stared at Nora and said nothing, waiting like a well-trained soldier for the next command.

Nora only stared at him for a moment, at the veins in his forearms, the lines of lean muscle in his stomach and chest, the scattering of scars that only added to his allure. She set the candle back on the table. She picked up the black velvet bag, opened the silver drawstring and pulled out a heavy leather collar.

Lance looked down at the collar and then back at her with a question in his eyes. Nora turned it in her hand, tilting it toward the light.

“There’s this Israeli leatherworker that Kingsley knows. He makes all of Kingsley’s whips and floggers. Old guy. Probably knew Moses. Anyway...” Nora traced the ornate silver buckle on the back of the collar. “He had this with him last time he was at Kingsley’s. I bought it. One of those love-at-first-sight, impulse buys.” She smiled at Lance who seemed to be barely breathing now. Nora’s words, although whispered, seemed to echo off the walls. “The craftsmanship is incredible. See the grooves on it? It’s engraved. He said it’s the Hebrew words for Protector. Provider. Slave. He’s a romantic old soul. I didn’t have anyone in mind when I bought it. I just wanted it.”