AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She was pleasantly off tune, with feminine pride and gusto. Des grinned as he followed the sound of her voice through the theater to her makeshift dressing room apartment, where she appeared to be sorting laundry and shaking her very fine booty to the beat of the Mindy McCready song.
He watched her dance to the music through her earbuds, arms and hips gyrating, her glossy thick brown hair swinging with her movements, her breasts bouncing. He knew she thought herself too heavy by about fifteen to twenty pounds. Most women weren't happy with their bodies, and women with generous curves like hers, almost always. It baffled him, though he expected it was because they saw themselves the way women did, not men. It was one of the many reasons he loved tying up a woman and topping her. He could show her how she looked through his eyes with no white noise, everything driven out of her mind but honest, pure reaction.
He loved Julie's energy, her quirky nature, her responsiveness. She brought out protective instincts in him, more than his usual response to a woman who'd given him the privilege of adorning her in his rope. He noted she did have some residual bruising on her throat, but it wasn't as severe as he'd feared it would be, and her loose hipped dancing said she'd taken some good pain meds. It still made him want to choke the life out of Pablo with a prickly coconut twine.
He shouldn't be pursuing this. He'd spent his life knowing down to the minutiae what was good and bad for him
. Sometimes the lines were fuzzy, yet when it came to getting close to other people, there was no mistaking the boundaries. He had no desire to hurt anyone.
But God, look at her. Her life. Her joy. She embraced everything around her. People, new experiences. From the things she tried so hard not to say but ended up stumbling over, he knew she'd been hurt too often. Those clueless bastards' loss was his gain. At least for as long as he could keep this inside the box he always kept his relationships.
You're already outside the box, asshole. Don't be the next one to break her heart.
He wasn't going to do that. They were both adults. They could have fun. He could help her learn more about BDSM. She was here only temporarily, anyway. She wasn't looking to set up house.
Wow, feeding yourself a major line of bullshit there, buddy.
He wanted to slide up behind her, take off the earbuds and ravish her neck with lips, tongue and teeth. He wanted to hold her heart-shaped ass against his cock and grind. He wanted to hear her laugh, gasp and whisper, feel her tremble, all because of what he could do to her.
Proving he had restraint, he leaned in the doorframe, giving himself a private moment to enjoy. He'd met women who put effort into an eccentric persona. Goth, off center, social justice warrior, name your role or emotional costume. That didn't bug him. They weren't pretentious. They were merely donning the clothes that best helped them handle their world, same as everyone did. Yet his favorite gift to his Dom side was stripping the physical and emotional clothes off each woman and finding out who she really was. In return, he learned more about himself. It was a two way street of pleasure and emotional satisfaction.
Julie was his first experience where the inner core of the woman was open, dazzling to see in all its honesty. Nothing proved it more than her reaction when she discovered she wasn't alone.
She'd executed an enthusiastic spin, fist pumped the air, and saw him watching her. She gave a surprised yelp, but recovered fast, as he somehow knew she would. She did another shimmy and shake for him, belted out the last chorus with impressive lip synching skill, and finished on another spin. When she popped out the earbuds, she fixed an accusing look on him. "You're an hour early."
"I brought coffee." He lifted the flat from behind the door, in the hallway where he'd stashed it. "And flowers."
The bouquet of yellow daisies had looked playful and bright, like her. "I'm a traditional guy."
She took the flowers just as he'd expected and hoped she would, with clear delight, but as she sniffed the flowers, she tossed him a mild glare.
"Didn't you say this was a non-date?"
"I lied about that. Figured after you had time to think about it, you'd realize a date would be much nicer."
She smiled, but he saw wariness in her eyes, a woman who didn't trust herself, whose heart was fragile from past wounds. It took an unusual grip on him.
She's different, you idiot. Back away from this.
We're just going to a farmers' market. Not running away to Vegas.
There was no harm in enjoying her company and using his skills to help her trust again. He'd done it with other women, the lines of care and affection clean.
You're going to the farmers' market to prove to her she's different, because she thinks she's just another rope bunny to you. How is that not crossing the line into relationship territory? Lying asshole.
His conscience was a persistent bastard. It didn't help that every moment they stood in what was essentially her bedroom, he wanted to grab her around the waist, press her luscious body against the wall and kiss her until she was writhing against him in that nice, cock-hardening way she did.
This might be a date, but it couldn't be that kind of date. She was skittish, relationship-shy. Even if he had to rubber band his dick in a choke hold, he was going to make sure she felt less skittish around him. Then maybe he'd reward his tremendous restraint by tying her up on that cot and fucking her brains out.
"Want to help me fold some towels?" she asked. "That way we can get out of here even sooner."
"It'd be my pleasure." He'd do his best not to think about how folding towels would clear the mattress. She was right. The sooner they got out of here, the better.
"Those are the biggest chocolate chip cookies I've ever seen," Julie said, pointing to a stall.
"Yeah. They're hard as rocks and taste like crap. The lady you want is over here." He drew her over to a table where the cookies were much smaller but wrapped a half dozen to a pack, brightly colored curly ribbon tied around cellophane. "Trust me, they're worth every cent of your $3." He bought her a couple of them and dropped them in the tote she'd brought. He gave the bedazzled Tinkerbell design a bemused look.
"Everyone loves sparkly things," she told him. "Even if they don't admit it."
