Indigo couldn’t wait this week so a day early here is her post:

Darling,

I know it is silly to write to you on your own blog. I know it is even sillier to write to you on your own blog when I have to send it to you first. I know it is the silliest thing ever to write to you at all when we live together.

But, I need to write this because I am shy. Also I need to write this because I don’t want to tell you this.

It has been an amazing Christmas. I have been spoiled, cuddled, snuggled, cared for and surrounded by ribbons and sparkles for days.

It is just that I need something else from you.

I need you.

You know the regular you, the everyday you- you are the only thing I need now.

I don’t want more champagne.  I want your lips. I want you to kiss me hard, your stubble against my soft skin and my confused pleas to go ignored … or listened to.

I don’t want sweet kisses under the mistletoe, I want your hand in my hair pulling me towards you. I want to strain against you. I want to feel how strong you are.

I don’t want Christmas jumpers (although your jumper is sexy and cool – you are welcome.) I want your leather belt against my skin. No glitter on it, no prettiness, just dark leather against my pale skin and then my pink skin and then …well, you’ll decide.

I need us. I need to be told off, I need to be pulled down roughly over your knee and slapped until I kick out and beg you to stop. I need stern, I need the line back, your line, your way.

I need your hard hands. I need your silent threats that are always carried through. I need the pain and nervousness that defines me as yours.

After that, after you have used me, made me cry, made me red, sore and sorry for being such a difficult girl then, if you please, could you take me to a candlelit pub so we can talk about New Years?