“Yes,” I told him.
“You’ll marry me?” he confirmed, fingers finally releasing me completely, grabbing at the small ring box he’d placed next to us on the bed.
“Yes,” I told him, tears welling up in my eyes.
He opened the box, revealing a delicate silver ring, the square-cut diamond modest, but beautiful.
“Yes,” I said again, wishing I could hold him.
“It was the ring my dad gave my mom,” he admitted, a small blush lighting up his cheeks. “I know it’s a little small, but he was just a working class stiff and—”
“It’s perfect,” I interrupted. “I love it. Yes.”
He smiled down at me, reaching up to slip the ring on my finger. “It looks good there.”
“I’ll have to take your word for it,” I teased. “I can’t see shit from here.”
He squinted at me, pretending to think. “If I unlock the handcuffs so you can see, do you promise to turn around before I lock them back up so I can have you back under my control while I fuck you from behind until you scream yourself hoarse?”
I was going to be very late for work.
“I do.”
