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Internally, I roll my eyes, but outwardly, I nod, trying to appear submissive. "Yes, boss."
"I prefer sir or master."
His words catch me off guard. "Sir, maybe, but I'm not calling any white guy my master. That's a trigger word for me." I'm surprised at my bluntness, but I need to make my boundaries clear.
"How so?" Jaden fires back, his question sharp.
"It reminds me of slavery and racism and takes my mind away from what we're doing.” I meet his intense gaze.
He considers my words for a moment before nodding. "Fair enough. Do you have any questions before we begin?"
"Yes, actually. Explain the stoplights." I recall the club's safe word guidelines, but I want more clarity from Jaden.
"If either of us says red, all activity ceases, and the scene is done. We say yellow if you want to continue but need to adjust an activity. And if you're comfortable and want to proceed when I check in, you'll say green. Do you understand?" Jaden adds a new touch to the stoplight system I read about with his green light, but I keep my mouth shut. Because what he doesn't vocalize but screams through our bond is the unspoken ultimatum: if I say red or reject him, we're done. Despite the urge to address this, I remain silent on instinct.
So I nod. I've learned to tread lightly when discussing sex with him. He can be relentless in extracting details, prying into every nook and cranny, much like a miner relentlessly chipping away, seeking that hidden vein of gold deep within the earth's crust. However, like said miner, he keeps his information nuggets to himself. Jaden’s a master of giving obscure answers that never answer the question asked.
And now, his hot hand rests on my thigh, sending a flood of heat through my body. “I wish I had skin your color.” Jaden’s index finger traces a path up my forearm, leaving goosebumps and a trail of fiery sensation.
His comment on my skin color catches me off guard, stirring a mix of warmth and anger. Here it comes, the conversation about race. Is this where I see Jaden's true colors? My mind races with doubts. “You don’t need to pretend to like my skin color just to sleep with me,” I blurt out, fixing him with a searching gaze, bracing for his response.
He keeps his eyes on my arm, his touch light yet maddening. I'm on edge, irritation and desire battling within me. “Well?” I snap, impatience laced with fear.
Jaden pauses, his voice calm, but our link is pulsing with restrained anger. “Under normal circumstances, I’d take offense to that assumption. But considering your past, I'll let it slide. Just know, it's unfair to accuse me like that. Have I ever given you a reason to believe your skin color matters to me in any negative way? If anything, it adds to your appeal, and I'm pissed you'd think so poorly of me.”
His words strike a chord of guilt and realization within me. The truth is, Jaden's never shown any sign of caring about my race or color. His issues are all about intimacy, not skin. “I’m sorry.” Embarrassment flushes through me. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”
He sighs, and just like that, his anger softens into understanding. “No need for apologies. In fact, I owe you one.”
His admission surprises me, snapping my attention back to him. An apology from Jaden? Now that's something new.
“Want to talk about the other night?” His voice is low, almost hesitant. There's an underlying note of concern that I’m not used to hearing from him.
My head snaps up, matching his intensity with my own fiery response. “What about the other night?” My words come out sharper than I intend, fueled by a mix of defensiveness and curiosity.
Jaden pauses, his expression unreadable for a moment. “Are you okay with what happened?” There’s a flicker of something in his eyes, a hint of guilt maybe, that mirrors my own internal turmoil.
Turning to face him fully, I can't help the slow smile that lights up my face. It feels like a rare moment of clarity breaking through the confusion. I scoot closer, yet there's still a careful distance between us, a dance of proximity we both seem to be navigating. “It was consensual if that’s what you’re asking.” A bit of boldness creeps into my voice. “Are you okay with it?”
His response surprises me. “Yes,” he says, and there’s an unspoken weight behind that single word. I can tell he’s holding back, but I don’t push it. Instead, I lean back, lost in thought, analyzing my feelings and trying to make sense of them. “I’m surprised, really. I usually can't stand the smell of liquor on guys, but you . . . you weren’t an asshole like they are.” I stop, surprised at my own admission.
Jaden's expression shifts, a brief flash of something like surprise or realization crossing his face. It's gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by that familiar guarded look.
I gather my courage for my final ask. “I don’t mind it rough, but don’t take me in anger again.” I hold my breath, hoping I haven't crossed a line.
Jaden meets my gaze, a quirk of his eyebrow conveying more than words could. It's a silent acknowledgment, an unspoken agreement that hangs between us. I sit back, waiting, wondering what this means for us from now on.
29
JADEN
“I think you’ll have to force me.” Rayne's words echo in my mind, a siren call that pushes back the ever-present shadows. She keeps me anchored, here and now, away from the dark recesses where I hide the remnants of who I really am.
I ponder our earlier conversation, each word a piece of the puzzle that is my new identity. I'm usually shrouded in doubt, a truth I've concealed from the world, but this time, I'm certain. I've devised the perfect plan to keep my defenses intact while keeping Rayne close. Her responses to my probing questions send a thrill through me, a sensation that's becoming increasingly familiar.
My power thrums with excitement, reveling in this newfound shortcut to intimacy. The long preparations, a legacy of past trauma, seem less daunting now. Rayne's submissive demeanor, contrasting with her fierce independence, ensnares me. Her willingness to let me choose her attire, to shield her from what she perceives as flaws, strikes a chord in me. She's internalized society's shame, a burden unfairly placed upon her by the very gender I belong to. Just like the ones put on me!
I want to tell her how beautiful she is, to break through the walls we've both built, but I've learned the hard way the cost of vulnerability. Every action must be calculated and guarded. Yet, with Rayne, it's different. She mirrors my hidden tenderness, reflecting the pain we've both endured at the hands of a judgmental world.
