“No, you aren’t the issue,” he tried to put her at ease.
Dylan guided Sawyer aside and gave him an inquiring look.
“I have someone else on my mind,” he answered before the question was asked.
“Sonya?”
He nodded and looked over Dylan’s shoulder to see the most exquisite incandescent eyes watching him.
Dylan spoke in soft tones. “I know you miss her, but you’re doing the right thing. If it’s meant to be, she’ll wait for you.”
“And what if she doesn’t?” Sawyer’s voice was barely a whisper and he hated how desperate he sounded. He detested what Sonya had done to him – to make him feel again; to love again. When Serena had died, so did all of his feelings. That is, until Sonya.
Dylan gave a firm squeeze to his shoulder, but said nothing. There was nothing he could say and Sawyer knew it. It was now or never and he knew that, too. He wanted this, truly wanted this. Having done his homework, he knew what the lifestyle meant and what pleasures it could hold. But all the books and Google searches in the world could only go so far. He needed to experience BDSM to understand it.
He was tired of sitting in the shadows and watching Dylan and Isabel, desiring what they had. He wanted his own life; his own experiences; maybe even his own submissive some day. He had hoped Sonya would be that woman for him. Hell, she seemed passive enough in the bedroom. But life had a cruel way of dealing shitty cards to Sawyer. Just when he had gotten comfortable with Sonya and told her of his wants, she had backed away, leaving him to journey down this path on his own.
Sawyer squared his shoulders. Sarah. He liked the way the name formed on his lips unconsciously.
“I’m fine,” he croaked out in a hoarse whisper.
Making their way to private quarters, he was confronted with lush surroundings and a room nothing at all like he had imaged. The leather furniture was worn but plush and comfortable looking; the walls a dark shade of chocolate brown with gold accents, and a hand woven rug placed in front of the couch added a touch of exoticness. The smell was mouth watering and strangely reminded him of his travels to Burma – spicy with floral undertones.
Dylan seated himself in a large oversized chair next to the couch while Sawyer sat at the end of the long davenport. Sarah stood waiting, her eyes resting on Sawyer’s mouth. Patting the space next to him, she dutifully seated herself. It was charming that Sarah had waited for his invitation, and his mouth curved into a stupid grin.
“You have a breathtaking smile,” Sarah commented.
Suddenly feeling uncomfortable and constricted, he coughed nervously while shifting in his seat and loosening his tie. He wasn’t fond of compliments, they made him uneasy.
“My apologies for speaking out of line, Sir,” Sarah quickly apologized.
Sawyer’s eyes zoomed in on her expression. Her cheeks were a vivid shade of pink and he had obviously, though inadvertently, embarrassed her.
“You don’t ever need to apologize for speaking your mind,” he replied with a tinge of astonishment in his voice.
Sarah’s look of shame quickly turned to uncertainty, and her eyes darted from Dylan to Sawyer and back.
“I think you’ll find Mr. Morrison isn’t going to be like most Dom’s you’ve encountered, Sarah,” Dylan stated with a light chuckle. “For one, he’s new at this and fairly easy going given the right circumstances. Secondly, he’s not full of himself and despite his gruff and unapproachable countenance; I think you’ll find he’s quite gentle.”
Sawyer bristled and winced. Who the hell was Dylan calling gentle and easy going? For fuck’s sake, he had the blood of countless men on his hands. No, he wasn’t conceited, but that’s because he had come to accept who he was – murderer and all. He sat forward and almost voiced his sentiments but stopped himself for fear of scaring the pants off of Sarah. Then again, he did like the image of a pantless Sarah. He smiled to himself, sat back and fidgeted with the lapels of his suit jacket, his eyes shimmering with the vision of the thick beauty in her best lingerie and kneeling at his feet.
“He also has a wicked sense of humor, if he ever decides to grace you with it,” Dylan continued.
Sawyer shot Dylan a harsh look. He was at it again. Couldn’t he keep a thought in his head without Dylan honing in on it? “Oh, Christ, can we get started with this?” Sawyer grumbled.
“Okay. Ask away,” Dylan laughed, clearly amused at making him uncomfortable, his cerulean blue eyes bright with amusement.
Directing his comment to Sarah, Sawyer asked, “How long have you been into this lifestyle?”
She answered without hesitation. “I’m 33, so just about ten years.”
Ten years was a long time; almost as long as Dylan. Nodding his head, he asked his next question. “What interested you in this kind of life?”
Lacing her fingers together in her lap, Sarah kept her eyes on her hands. “My partner at the time. We learned about BDSM together and eventually married.”
Shocked that Sarah would help train a Dom while being married, he kept moving right along, but found it strange that a man would be willing to share his life partner in such an intimate way.
“So your husband is okay with you teaching other men about this sort of thing?”
Sarah shook her head and when she spoke again, her voice was more tender and soft, almost a murmur. “My Master is gone, Mr. Morrison. He died well over a year ago, but I believe within my heart he would want me to share my knowledge with others. I know he would. He was an amazing man; firm, but loving.”
Sawyer sat silently. He had touched on a sensitive area and was taken by Sarah’s candidness. When he didn’t immediately respond to her, she lifted her face.
“I have only had one Master, Mr. Morrison, but please don’t let that deter you from allowing me to teach you. We were an active part of this club and have taught many. My grieving process has been long and it’s taken a lot for me to come back without my Sir, but I sincerely want to rejoin the community and help others find the kind of happiness that I once had.”
The heartrending look on Sarah’s face leveled Sawyer and he unconsciously reached out to touch her cheek. Her eyes were glassy but she resolutely held back her tears. She was a strong woman, he could see that. She knew the terrible loss of a loved one and they shared that common bond. Sawyer couldn’t help but wonder if that’s why Dylan had chosen her and what other commonalities they shared.
“I’m not deterred in the least, Snowflake. I, too, know the loss of true love.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” she blinked rapidly.
Sawyer did his best to sound strong. “It was a very long time ago.”
Reaching out, Sarah placed her hand on his. “It’s a lie when people say time heals. No matter the length of time, the pain never really goes away, does it?”
No, it didn’t. Sawyer had never gotten over losing Serena. Time had simply moved forward and some days were better than others. Even when he met Sonya, Serena was still in the back of his mind. She always would be. He nodded his agreement and they exchanged a bleak forced smile.
Moving on with his questions, he asked, “In your opinion, what makes a good Dominant?”
Sarah looked uneasy with the question but pondered her answer thoughtfully.
“I’ll answer you, but please keep in mind that every submissive has different needs. For me, a good Dominant is someone who is comfortable with themselves and accepts who they are, and what their needs and their submissive’s needs are. He is a leader and not a follower. There are so many things, Mr. Morrison. It’s a difficult question to answer. Perhaps I can think more on this and get back with you as my thoughts form into something more logical being as I’m feeling a bit flustered at the moment.”