Chapter Eight
Reece
“What’s for dinner, honey?” Hale asks, letting himself into my place.
I’m sitting in my favorite leather armchair in the living room with my feet propped up on the ottoman. Hale said he was stopping by tonight, but I didn’t know he’d expect dinner.
“Scotch and M&Ms. Is that cool?” I say, popping another of the colorful candies into my mouth. I have no idea why I thought it was a good idea to buy so much candy last Halloween. A BDSM club gets very few trick-or-treaters, it turns out.
Hale ignores my sarcasm and walks to my bar to pour himself a drink before sinking onto the couch across from me. Once settled, he cocks an eyebrow at me. “Bad day?”
“Something like that.” Macey moved to her apartment today, and when I offered to help, she said that between her brother and Brielle and Brielle’s friend Kirby, they had it covered.
So I sat here and sulked like an asshole all day. I never expected her to stay, but the way she left—so abruptly, so easily, refusing my offer for help without even a backward glance—something about it set me off. The damn woman is independent to her core, and it drives me crazy. I planned to hit the gym and catch up on some work, but I felt unmotivated to do either.
Glancing down at the candies on the table, Hale frowns at me. “Seriously, dude? This is your dinner?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Because we’re not thirteen anymore.” He pauses to pick up a piece of candy from the table, looking at it thoughtfully. “Brielle cooks. She makes sure I eat healthy, well-balanced meals. She makes homemade lasagna and chicken primavera. It’s nice . . . having someone who cares enough to cook for you and make sure you’re fed.”
“Don’t tell me how to live my life.” The prick. I guess he hasn’t kicked it old school and dined on candy and hard liquor in a while. His fucking loss.
“Just trying to look out for you is all.”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I lean back. “You guys get Macey settled in today?”
“Yeah. It’s a nice place she found, in a safe area. I think she’s a little worried about how she’s going to afford it without a job, but I cosigned the lease and told her I’ll help if she needs it.”
I nod. Knowing Macey, she’ll find a way to make it all work, without anyone’s help. It’s just the kind of girl she is. God love her.
“How was her mood today?” I’m trying not to be terribly obvious, but the memory of our session is still buzzing through my veins, and I feel guilty I didn’t pay any mind to aftercare. It went against everything I knew as a Dominant, but I was painfully aware I couldn’t handle the level of emotional intimacy that comes along with it.
“What do you mean?” Hale asks, now helping himself to a handful of my candy that’s scattered across the coffee table in a colorful mess.
I shrug, trying to downplay my concern. “Just curious after our session yesterday—”
I don’t get to finish, because he rises to his feet, clenching his fists at his sides. “You fucking went through with that?”
“Of course I did. I told you I was going to.”
“You’re a selfish asshole, Reece. What the fuck?”
Confused, I stand as well. “I thought we both agreed it was better that I introduce her to the scene than some sadistic Dom doing God knows what with her.” Was he smoking crack when we met for lunch that day?
“Don’t you have enough subs on speed dial? Macey’s my sister. Since I apparently didn’t make it clear before, I don’t want you messing around with my goddamn sister.” His voice rises three levels, and if I had any neighbors, I’m pretty sure they’d be able to hear every word.
He said no sexual contact, and apparently he thought that was going to make me scrap the whole idea. Not that I abided by his request anyhow. The visual of Macey’s full lips wrapped around the head of my cock is permanently burned into my brain. And I can’t even find it in me to feel guilty about it. In fact, I want to do that again and again. Shit.
Realizing Hale’s still fuming, still watching me and waiting for an answer, I grab my glass, knowing I’ll need a refill to continue this conversation. “Another measure?” I ask, glancing down at his empty glass on the table.
“Answer the damn question,” he barks.
I walk to the bar and pour myself another. “I’m not seeing anyone right now. Just Macey.”
“You make it sound like an ongoing arrangement.”
Turning back to face him, I try not to flinch when I see the vein in his forehead that only appears when he’s mad. Like fighting mad. Shit. This isn’t what I anticipated when I told him to swing by tonight.
“It is. I promised her three sessions; I just don’t know how she’s feeling about continuing them. That’s why I asked you what her mood was like. She kind of rushed out of here.”
“If you did something . . . if you hurt her, so help me God—”
“I didn’t. I’d never hurt her.” The sincerity in my tone makes him pause, and he looks at me as if he’s looking at me for the first time. For a second, I think he’s going to see straight through me, that he’s going to discover that I’ve held feelings for her all this time. But then he lets out a deep exhale and gestures for me to continue.
“So, what happened?” he asks, pressing his lips together.
I take a swig before continuing. “I didn’t hurt her. I just might have . . . pissed her off. Ended the session earlier than she probably expected.”
“That’s it? You cut it short?” This seems to make him happy, his tight posture relaxing just slightly.
Staring at my glass, I say, “I’m trying to be careful with her.”
I don’t explain that my concern has nothing to do with the fact she’s his sister, and everything to do with protecting my heart. The damn thing got crushed the last time she walked away. I can’t go through that again because this time, it would be much harder. She’s living here, in the same city. I’ll see her at holidays and parties, and fuck, will probably have to watch her get married. All at once I feel like punching something.
“You know my stance on this,” Hale says with a no-nonsense glare. “No good can come of it.”
I give him the nod he’s looking for; he’s one thousand percent right. “Understood.”
He frowns and stands. Then without another word, he makes his way to the door, our conversation and our evening over, it seems. The door closes softly behind him, and I’m alone once again.
Hale and I have never fought. Not once. I’m confused and feeling even more vulnerable than I imagined. When another Dom tells you you’re in the wrong, you stop and take note. Period.
Alone in the quiet solitude of my apartment, I reflect on all the ways I’ve fucked up lately. First Chrissy asking why I’ve never settled down with a submissive, then my murderous feelings toward Oliver when he touched Macey, and now Hale questioning what I’m doing, coupled with my sullen mood after she moved out today.
I look down at my coffee table littered with colorful candies and an empty glass of Scotch. This is like a damn post-breakup pity party. All that’s missing is the ice cream and cheesy romantic comedies. I need to fucking man up. I’m Reece-motherfucking-Jackson. I own Crave—Chicago’s hottest sex club. I deliver the pleasure; I decide the punishments. I can’t let one feisty girl who I used to be hung up on call the shots on our arrangement.
Through my confused fog, clarity emerges. I might have fucked up running from Macey like that yesterday. But in our next session, I will make damn sure I don’t make the same mistake twice. She wants to experience this? Fine. I’ll let her see every ounce of my depraved side and let her decide for herself if she can handle it.