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She shot him an imperious look. "What if I refuse to say it? Going to push me?"
He lifted a shoulder. "I'll still buy you the one scoop. And hope you'll share a bite with me."
She'd pressed the point of her chin to her shoulder to check out the ice cream cart. As she brushed her locs out of her line of sight, her weight shifted and her balance teetered. She told herself she wasn't in danger of falling, but it made her realize how easy it really might be to fall off such a narrow ledge, her grip on the rail notwithstanding. Unless her date suddenly had his arm around her waist, fingers wrapped over her hip and caught in her belt loops, his other hand firmly locked on the rail.
"You know what?" he said. "Let's be badass on that bench over there."
"Tired of breaking the rules?" she asked, a glint in her eyes.
His lips twisted. "You know the answer to that better than I ever could, Mistress," he said. "Hold onto the rail with both hands until I'm back over and then I'll help you. You can do it on your own, I know, but humor me."
Common sense told her he was right, so she waited until he was ready before she climbed the rail. She swung one leg back over and then the other so she was sitting on top of it again, only this time facing the Riverwalk. It wasn't a big hop to the ground, but he set his hands to her waist and lifted her down, a stirring sense of non-gravity she didn't get to experience that often. The man was breathtakingly strong.
When he set her on her feet, he let her go, though she could feel the reluctance in the loosening of his grip. She would have been fine with prolonged contact. He gestured to the bench, and they strolled over, taking a seat. Fortunately, he stretched out his arm behind her, giving her a comfortable rest for her back, instead of the top edge digging into her shoulder blades. Not necessarily a come-on, but decidedly a gallant gesture.
"You treat me like a girl."
He gifted her with a warm look that swept over her. "You are a girl. Woman. Female, from head to toe. Is that a problem?"
"No. I'm tall and strong, and I put off a don't-fuck-with-me vibe that seems to neutralize the chivalrous, protective side a man automatically shows to a daintier woman. Then there's the Mistress thing."
"Does it bug you?"
"No. I don't think about it as a pro or con. It pleases me, though, that you treat me with that kind of care and respect. Even as it makes me curious. I've watched you DM and work security. You watch out for everyone and keep them safe, with an unflappable courtesy that gives them confidence you'll protect them. Yet when a Mistress crosses the line you don't want her to cross, it all disappears. She becomes prey. The enemy."
"Thanks for the recap. We covered that in Tyler's office, didn't we?" He removed his arm and leaned forward, linking his hands to dangle loosely between his spread knees as he stared out at the water. "Maybe you're right and I'm not all that cut out to be a sub. But you said you wanted a normal date. I know what you said about the Dom/sub stuff still being part of this, but first dates don't usually delve into that other shit." He shot her a look, remote and closed-down. "Right?"
"No, they don't. I'll leave it alone, but I am going to say one thing. Come back up here." She met his gaze with an unflinching one of her own and tapped his shoulder, a reinforcement of the command. Barely suppressing a sigh, he sat up.
"You know a great deal about women, Marius. There are Masters like Tyler who have that gift. Because he watches a sub so carefully on the Dom side of the equation, he can pick up any change in her mood or thinking. He works with that to connect with her, both as a woman and a submissive."
She let a faint smile touch her lips. "Now all that artistry is directed toward one woman. But my point is that it happens because he's a man who loves and adores women. There's another kind of man like that. One who worships a woman, drinking in every detail, learning all he can so he can be what she needs. That's a male sub. Add an alpha personality to it, and there's a protectiveness over and above what a normal male sub shows, and even a beta can be pretty damn protective, like Rob."
He grimaced. He obviously didn't want her mentioning Rob. She propped her head on her hand, her elbow on the back of the bench as she turned onto her hip toward him. Since he was still leaning forward some, she smoothed her hand down his back, curling her hand so she stroked his spine with her knuckles. He tilted his head toward his shoulder, watching her out of his peripheral vision. She drew a circle and feather-caressed everything in the center of it.
"A good man is a good man, and that is an innate part of him, whether alpha, beta, or something else entirely. So, tell me a story of how my boy learned how to see a woman as a woman, no matter her physical appearance or how tough she seems. I know it won't be just one story that helped you get there, but tell me the first one that comes to mind."
"Does it matter?" He turned his face back toward the water so only his voice revealed his state of mind. "You said I use it the wrong way."
"Do you think you use it the right way?"
"I think they want too much."
"Well, you could tell them that. Negotiate it so everyone knows you just want a light, fluffy fuck, a little Yes, ma'am, No, ma'am role play. Then no one would ever cross the lines. All it takes is clear communication. But you keep getting yourself in situations where you say you want one thing, but you go after another, and something goes wrong."
His fist curled on his knee, but she kept stroking his back, another calming circle. "You figure out what's going on in your head, you'll be able to be what you've always wanted to be for a woman." You might be everything she wants, too. But she kept that to herself.
"I don't need a therapist."
"No. You probably need a team of them." She tempered it with a smile and a friendly nudge of her shoulder that seemed to take him off balance as he glanced back at her again. "So sit back up, put your arm around me like a proper, normal date and tell me a story."
"Does it have to be true?"
"I'll leave that up to you."
When he sat up and stretched his arm behind her again, she put her back against his side and her boot soles on the seat, her knees bent. Dropping her head on his shoulder, she looked up at the sky. She brought his arm across her chest, curling her hands around his forearm as his palm molded against her shoulder. Then she waited on him. As she did, she felt the rise and fall of his body from his breath, the heat of his flesh penetrating her thin shirt. His jaw brushed the top of her head as he adjusted. She closed her eyes, enjoying the position, and his cautious acceptance of it.
"There was this girl in middle school," he said at last. "Eloise. She weighed about two hundred pounds and was tall. Short hair, and average-looking. Not pretty. She was mean. She got suspended a lot for fighting, bullying. I hadn't really hit a growth spurt, so she tried to take my lunch money one day. I didn't have any, but I didn't tell her that. I busted her nose instead, set her down on her ass, hard."
