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I nod.
He grinds his molars, then asks, "Are you telling me you want to engage with others?"
"No! Not at all."
"Then what is it?"
My pulse pounds hard against the choker. "Are you going to want me to do things with other people?"
He studies me, and my gut flips faster. He finally answers, "I haven't thought that far. But I have no desire to share you. However, I would arrange it if it were in your best interest."
I'm glad he doesn't want to share me, but his answer also confuses me. I ask, "Why would it be in my best interest?"
"Some people need it," he states.
"What do you mean?"
He doesn't tear his gaze off me, drags his knuckles down my arm, and claims, "Every sub has different needs, pet. It's my job to figure out what those are, and often, we aren't aware of what we need the most."
I tilt my head, letting his answer sink in, but I still don't understand it. I ask, "How can screwing someone else be something someone needs?"
His confidence only grows. He asserts, "It just is. Unless you need it and then do it, you probably won't understand it."
My heart pounds faster. I lower my voice and ask, "And you? Is this something you need?"
"To fuck other women?"
I nod, blinking hard, not trusting myself to speak without showcasing the emotional roller coaster I'm on. The thought of Riggs with anyone else is too much to bear. I might only be his for a year, but I don't want to share him. The jealous streak in me would probably kill me.
He slides his hand on my cheek, leans forward so his lips are an inch from mine, and announces, "There's something you should know about me."
My voice cracks, "What?"
He declares, "I'm not a Dom who plays around. When I signed that contract, my focus was on you and only you. And as long as we're in this arrangement, it'll stay that way. Do you understand?"
Relief washes over me. My pulse lowers a few notches, and I nod. "Okay."
He asks, "Are there any other things we need to discuss?"
I contemplate for a moment, then shake my head. "No. I think I'm clear on things. Well, as much as I can be with my limited knowledge of certain aspects." My face heats again.
The corners of his mouth curve up. He replies, "Good." He glances at my wineglass and questions, "Are you buzzed?"
"No."
He stares at me.
"I'm not," I insist.
"You'd tell me if you were?"
"Yes. Why?"
He clenches his jaw and drags his knuckles down my neck and breast. I shudder as he asserts, "I need you alert when we play, Blakely." He traces my nipple with his finger.
I squeeze my thighs tighter together. I assure him, "I'm alert."
"What's the safe word?" he quizzes.
