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I nod. "Shoot."
"Fan fiction. I write fan fiction sometimes."
"Yeah?"
"Don't laugh."
I want to, but not for the reasons she thinks. Not because it's lame. Because it's so fucking Kay. "How could I possibly help?"
"Well, there's this theme I want to include in my next story. And I'm pretty sure you're the person to ask."
"Only thing I know shit about is tattooing."
She shakes her head. "No. Dean... He mentioned something." Her eyes bore into mine. "That you like to tie women up."
Fuck. Blood flees my brain at an alarming rate. It's replaced by the image of Kaylee tied to my bed, squirming under me, begging me to let her come. "Sometimes. It's not an obsession." I like having a woman on the edge. Having her desperate for me. Tying her up is the easiest way to do that. But I'm into all sorts of shit.
"Oh. Well. I, um, I thought I'd ask. If there's anything you think I should know. Or resources."
No. No fucking way. I'm not explaining bondage to Kaylee. But I don't want Dean explaining it either. "I'll send you a few links."
"Sure." She forces her lips into a smile. It's not what she wants.
She wants me explaining it.
I want to do a lot more than explain it.
"Do you... do you do that a lot?" she asks.
"Sometimes." It's been awhile. Longer than it's been since I've fucked. Playing hasn't felt right. Rough hasn't felt right. Ever since my parents died, nothing has felt quite right.
It's like Mom is in my head now.
Shaking her head of course you're into this shit, you degenerate.
Doesn't exactly help the mood.
But the thought of bending Kaylee over my knee—
Of her wrists tied to my bed—
Her thighs against my cheeks—
"You can tell me more, Brendon. I'm not an innocent flower. I read all sorts of books. I can handle an explanation."
Maybe she can.
But I can't. "There're a few good books. I'll make a list."
She nods, but there's something about it.
Like she knows exactly what I'm thinking.
Like she knows how badly I want to make her mine.
Chapter Ten
Brendon
