Secrets Dispelled by Raven McAllan Page B

is he used to sharing your bed?”
    “No, he is not, the chancer. He stops in his basket in front of the Aga.”
    “That’s it then, I’ll have to get a basket in front of the Aga.” Coll sat on the edge of her bed. “Evidently without one just doesn’t hack it for him. We won’t want to be three in a bed.”
    True enough . Not that she had any intention of saying that out loud.
    Coll leaned forward and kissed her gently on the cheek. “Sleep tight and we’ll talk a bit more tomorrow.” He moved back and Finn missed his warmth, and wished he’d take things just a little bit further.
    Tongues?
    “I’ll make a list of my questions.” She croaked the words. Her mouth wouldn’t work properly as he stood up and walked to the door.
    “I’ll think of some suitable answers then. Night, kitten, and, er, kitten…” He went out as she giggled then stared at the cat curled up on top of the duvet.
    “Don’t get used to this. It’s for one night only.”
    Depp miaowed.
     
    * * * *
     
    Three weeks later she remembered those words.
    Life had gone on more or less as usual. They’d decided to leave Donny alone and watch him carefully. His wife, who they discovered had an idea what her husband was up to and had no intentions of hurrying back, was easily persuaded to stop away for another month, stating her mother wasn’t well enough to be left. Finn continued to do her work and act as if nothing had happened. And the others made plans.
    Her talk with Coll and their look around the club had been postponed so many times that if she hadn’t seen his frustration, she would have thought he’d changed his mind. She knew he hadn’t. The expression in his eyes whenever they were unobserved told her that.
    However they were both on a knife edge.
    Coll leaned against the work surface in the kitchen with a mug of coffee in his hands and stared moodily into it. Dressed in scuffed work boots, well-worn jeans, which were white at the seams and a chunky cable-knit jumper that reflected the color of his eyes, he looked mad, bad and dangerous to know. As well as hot, hunky, and her newly coined word for how he made her feel, horniferous.
    Finn’s pussy muscled clenched and released as she took her fill of him. Each night they’d talked, just a little, and now with some time to spare, he’d promised to show her around the club that night, whilst it was empty.
    She thought she had an inkling of the man he was, especially when he’d been frank about his favored proclivities. “To trace a design on skin, just as I do on wood, is pleasure beyond anything else. Be it with my scriber, the tip of a knife, my Shibari ropes or a flogger. What I achieve, how my sub flies and takes herself further than she ever thought possible, is more than a reward. It’s my reason for whom I am, what I am. It’s…” Coll had hesitated. “It’s me.” He’d looked faintly embarrassed, but she knew what he meant.
    “As much a part of you as your wood carving is?”
    “More probably. I could manage not to wood carve, I couldn’t manage not to be a Dom.”
    She loved his honestly, but it made her think. Every day this man became more important to her, but she still wasn’t sure if she could be a true part of his life. He’d made no bones about wanting her as his sub. That in itself didn’t bother her, but scribing and flogging weren’t things she thought she’d be happy with. As they were only one part of BDSM, it hadn’t troubled her unduly until they spoke in more depth. Now she knew she could never ask him not to do such things. His eyes lit up when he described the artistic side of scribing. And she was sure she would never be able to accept him doing anything to someone else and not her. Not if they were involved in other ways.
    He’d shown her his toys and implements and afterwards in the privacy of her own room, Finn had used the memory of how he held them—like a lover—and described them to get herself off. It had been one of the