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I frowned.
Lydia caught Luke’s eye. “He’ll be there?”
I took hold of her sister’s card, turned it over in my palm, noted the address of the office, and then stuffed it into the pocket of my jeans. “I’ll be there.”
Luke squeezed my hand again, Lydia stood up, gave me another sadly-kind look, and then we were free.
As we walked out of the campus police station, a brisk winter wind tore through my hair, and I wished it would rip me out of my body and whisk me away. Take me out of this moment, off this world, all the way to heaven or whatever waited for me out there.
“It’s going to be all right,” Luke said as he started the car.
“No, it’s not.”
In silence, we drove to his house. It was good to be homeagain—and since when had I started to think his house was my home? Even though cuddling on the sofa and sleeping in his soft bed sounded appealing, I knew I wouldn’t be able to settle. I was so wound up, so outside of my body, that I felt as if I could disappear.
Cool relief flooded me when Luke locked the front door behind us, and then turned directly to open the one to the basement.
“Do you want to leave all this behind for a while?”
“Yes.”
“Our safe word?” he asked.
“Poodle.”
“C’mon.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
‡
Luke
“Kneel.”
I wasn’t surprised that this was Minty’s first command after we’d officially laid out the terms of the night—he’d be the Dom and I’d be the sub; no impact play beyond spanking since I hadn’t had time to teach him how to wield the implements yet, and instead of just “poodle” to put a stop to the scene, we’d also use green and yellow to mean “go ahead” and “slow down.”
Minty was shaky in every way after the ordeal of the last twenty-four hours, and I wondered if it was a good idea to let him take charge. But I also knew that he needed it. I might not be able to make him feel like a god in the same way Kyle had, but maybe I could help him feel like he had some control again.
The concrete floor dug into my knees, and I had a brief flash of respect for the fact that Minty had never once complained about that.
“Shirt off.”
I unbuttoned it and tossed it aside. The corners of Minty’s lips tweaked up in a smirk. “Is that any way to treat your clothes?”
“Sorry, Sir,” I murmured. “Should I get it, Sir? Fold it?”
Tutting, he fetched my shirt himself and stood in front of me twisting it up in his hands. I frowned. It was one of my favorite button-up shirts. He’d destroy it like that. I opened my mouth toprotest, caught his eye, and shut it again.
It wasn’t that he looked threatening. It was that he looked vulnerable. If I questioned his authority now at the very start, there was no point in moving forward.
“Open up,” he said, when he’d wound my shirt into a thick rope of fabric.
I felt odd hinging my mouth open for him, and I wasn’t sure what to do with my arms. Jerome always had me keep them behind my back, but Minty hadn’t said. Of course, he didn’t know he should guide me like that—after all, I rarely gave him orders on his posture. He did it all naturally.
“I just want to see…” he murmured, as he fitted the rope of shirt into my mouth, tying the arms of it behind my head, clumsily gagging me. “Huh. Wow.”
I lowered my chin, trying to give an air of submission, but Minty just laughed. It wasn’t a lighthearted sound. It was heavy with the day and the weight of his life.
