As a Dom, I’m losing my edge. I pride myself in reading women so well that their first time subbing, let alone with me, is always a pleasant experience. Until now.
Or at least I thought she was having a fine time.
There’s no use obsessing over it. When I walk back into my room, the first thing I do is find some clothes to wear. Cotton boxers and shirt. My usual sleep fare when I’m not naked. After sex? I usually wanna be naked. I don’t think that’s a good idea tonight.
Fuck, what a mess.
I open the library door and pour myself a glass of something hard. It’s down my throat in two seconds. Saoirse ambles out of her bed, rubs against my leg, and wanders out into the main room with a chirp in her throat.
Kathryn.
I decide to give her the space she so desperately needs. My bed is torn up, but I crawl in anyway, pulling the covers around my waist as I reach for my glasses and read my tablet.
My thoughts are too consumed with what happened to care about reading.
Katie… I…
Never before has that happened. Then again, never before have I taken on a Domme.
If the roles were reversed, I doubt I would have handled something like that well either. I shudder thinking about it. No way. If another Dom tried to take me like that…
How did she make it as far as she did? Let alone all the way?
I was on high alert the whole time. In tune with her body and what it was telling me. Her body wanted it all. It wanted me to finger her, to lick her open, to fuck her to my hilt and fill her with my seed. Every inch of her body had begged for it. Her voice demanded it. Her scent craved it. Yes, her body had wanted it so badly.
It was her everything else that rejected it.
I’m so fucking stupid.
When she orgasmed, I thought she had finally achieved total surrender. It was liberating for me as well, Katie. I felt relieved when you tightened on my cock and moaned so loudly that my chest ached. Your flesh kneaded beneath my fingertips. Your heat beckoned me deeper. Your words, so filthy and desperate, told me how good I felt and how much you wanted me.
I saw the surrender in your eyes. You were home.
We were home.
“Hey.”
I lower my tablet and see Katie standing in the bathroom doorway, hair wet and body framed in a T-shirt I left in there. It’s baggy on her. Sexy. “Feel better?” I ask tentatively.
Kathryn takes a step toward me. She’s no longer yelling, so that’s an improvement. If anything, she looks like she always does outside of the bedroom. Relief doesn’t begin to describe what I’m feeling.
“Yeah. I’m sorry, Ian. I lost my shit.”
“You could say that again.” I put my tablet and glasses back on my nightstand. “I’m worried about you. Come here.”
I pat the space beside me. She’s wearing my shirt, so she must plan on staying. Sure enough, her bare feet cross my room and bring her to my bedside.
She’s so gorgeous. The light illuminates her golden hair, her skin glowing from the aftereffects of sex. My endorphins call to hers, if she has any left. This is a time for soft kisses, laughter, and dozy eyes. Watching a sub go from high-alert to totally relaxed in my arms is one of the best feelings in the world.
I had been looking forward to that with her.
Kathryn sits on the edge of my bed and swings her legs over. I put a hand on them, testing her boundaries. She does not shake me off.
“Tell me what you’re thinking.”
Her shrug worries me. I can’t have her brushing this off. “Many things. Nothing. My brain is full of crap, but I want to sleep.”
“You are welcome to spend the night.”
“Thanks.”
It takes a while, but she eventually pushes herself beneath the covers and curls up against me. I wrap an arm around her, careful to not touch an erogenous zone. “I’m sorry it happened that way.”
She sniffs, and I wonder if I’ve made her cry again. “I’m not mad at you. Really. You did what I would have. I simply wasn’t ready.”
She could say that again.
“I guess I’m worried that… you’re going to think of me differently now.”
My hand tilts her chin up until she’s looking in my eyes. “The only thing I think is that you are totally normal.”
Kathryn shivers. Says nothing.
As the minutes wear by, I slip farther beneath the covers and hold her more tightly to me. She’s so fragile in my arms. The tautness of her body begs me to kiss her all over, giving her the care she craves but is too ashamed to ask for.
Her wounded skin is ready for my touch. I make sure I’m the softest man in the world as I kiss her tenderly and whisper into her ear that she’s beautiful, clever, and a woman whom I respect and admire.
I feel her smile against my skin. I don’t know exactly what’s going on through her head, but I hope she can sleep peacefully tonight. Here, in my arms.
Chapter 28
KATHRYN
I wake up in an unfamiliar place. At first I think I’m still dreaming, and then it all starts coming back to me.
The sex. The freak outs. The going to sleep barely feeling any better.
Ian.
He’s not here, not even in his own bed. I’m utterly alone as I stretch an arm above my head, look around, and adjust my vision until it no longer hurts to open my eyes.
The pillow pushes against my cheek as I slowly come to. It’s comforting, even as my brain is filled with the terrible memories. Shit, I’m embarrassed. How could I have acted like that in front of Ian? To Ian?
My everything is sore. The flesh of my ass is so bruised from some simple spankings that I can’t take any position but on my stomach. The T-shirt I borrowed to sleep in nearly strangles me as I drown in it. Yet all I can think about is how warm and comfortable this bed is. The mattress is the right firmness. The sheets are Egyptian cotton. 1500 thread count. The comforter is full of down and feels so light and airy on my body. If it weren’t for my ass and the memories, I would be tempted to spend the whole day in this bed – alone.
I doubt Ian would have left me here, or at least not for long. I don’t see a note anywhere. This room is so soundproofed that I can’t tell if he’s in the bathroom. A part of me doesn’t care.
The other part wants him here right now.
I draw the comforter over my head and pretend that last night didn’t happen. Although I may have showered, I still feel… dirty. Inside, I feel dirty. I know I’m not. I know it’s irrational. Millions – maybe billions – of women do that all the time and feel dandy.
Those women aren’t me.
The comforter tugs down my face. I open my eyes to see Ian, still dressed in his night clothes, looming over me with two cups of coffee in his hands.
“Morning, darling.’
It’s an empty pet name. Even so, I fling back the covers, sigh, and face the fact that today has to happen.
One of the coffee cups is placed on the nightstand next to me. Ian sits on the other side of the wide bed, gingerly pulling himself toward me so he doesn’t spill his coffee, which he sips pensively. What is he thinking? Shit, do I wanna know? Probably not. It’s probably about me.
“You feeling better this morning?”
I avoid answering by drinking my coffee. It’s bitter, as coffee tends to be, but somehow Ian remembered that I like sugar and a hint of cream. He must have heard me tell Anita over and over during those two weeks we worked together.
“I feel better with this coffee, thanks.”
Ian’s lips curl together, and he leans back against the headboard. The one he had me handcuffed to last night. “You had a rough night.”