I brought her into sub-space, not that it took much doing. I made sure she remembered what she could do. How much she could handle.
That’s what it meant—her fighting against her cuffs. Her letting me fuck her with my hand. Her sucking my fingers like she was auditioning to be a porn star. Shebeggedin this safe space, an admission of weakness she’d never make outside the four walls of this dungeon.
My Kate can handle pain. She has from that first time, in the Baltimore hotel room. She was born determined. She has more discipline than any woman I’ve ever met, than anyperson, other than me, of course.
But the cane is simply more than she can stand—even through her panties. Even when she was so close to coming that I could have gotten her off with a single tap of my thumb against her clit.
I drop the bamboo rod before her safeword’s past her lips. It only takes a few seconds to release the cuffs around her wrists. A few more to free her ankles.
She’s sobbing as I fold her into my arms—from pain, I’m sure, but also from disappointment. She wanted this as much as I did. More. She wanted to prove something to herself.
I carry her over to the bed.
I try to put her on her stomach so I can I get the arnica and ice. She clutches my arms, though, as if she’s afraid of falling. She does her best to wrap her legs around me, to bury her face in the crook of my neck.
“Don’t leave me,” she says. “I’m sorry. Don’t go. I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry…. I need you. Please don’t go.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I tell her. And when that doesn’t soothe her, I fold my arms around her. “Hush,” I say, stroking her hair. “You’re safe now. I’m here.”
An eternity later, she lets me set her on the bed. She hisses at the pressure of her weight upon her ass, and I pull myself up beside her, punching a pair of pillows into place against the headboard. Sitting upright, I fold her into the nest of my body, cradling her in the circle of my arms and legs. Grateful as I am that she’s finally calmed down, I grit my teeth when she settles against the ache of my still-hard cock.
Eyes closed, she rests her head against my collarbone. “I’m sorry,” she whispers.
I brush a kiss against her temple. “Don’t be. You did exactly what you were supposed to do.”
“Show up my Dom in the middle of a scene?” Her words sound like they’re drenched in vinegar.
“Keep yourself safe. Protect yourself. Protect both of us. That’s the only way we can come down here next time—if I know you’ll use your safeword the way you’re supposed to.”
She takes a deep breath. Exhales on a shaky sigh. “There’ll be a next time?”
My cock twitches, hard enough that she must feel it. “Oh, yes, Mrs. Wolf. There’ll be a next time.”
“Don’t call me that,” she protests, but she wriggles closer to my body, her fingers stroking my forearms.
I tell myself she doesn’t mean anything by it. Shecan’tmean anything. Not after what I just put her through.
“Wolf—” she finally says after a long time.
“Don’t call me that,” I say, trying to imitate her tone.
“What am I supposed to call you?” She honestly sound surprised.
“Why don’t you start with my name? Cole. Call me Cole.”
She shakes her head. But she starts to trace my fingers where they’re clasped across her belly. “Cole,” she says.
I wait, but she seems content just to test the sound of my name. I try to relax against the headboard. I think about arctic winds and ice-blue glaciers and deserted snow fields surrounding the North Pole—no, notPole, not anything that reminds me of my aching cock.
“Cole,” she says again. And this time she shifts her grip. She pulls my hands higher, so my palms are flush against her tits.
“Kate…” I groan.
She arches her back. I automatically catch her nipples between my thumbs and index fingers. She moans when I pinch them, then gasps when I twist.
“Kate,” I say again, and this time my voice is rocky with frustration.
“Cole,” she says levelly. And while I’m practicing my last, best imitation of a good man, she twists around to reach between my legs.
