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I fold my arms over my chest. I’m pouting.
Rev’s face becomes serious. “I saw you turn down Cora tonight.”
My jaw clenches. I know I upset her, but that’s a hell of a lot better than hurting her physically with my Gift. Or getting her pregnant. I don’t trust myself with her. When we were together that one amazing night, I fucked up. I had a rule: no touching. I told her we could make ourselves come in front of each other, if she wanted, but that’s all we could ever have between us. Then she went and showed me the bed she and the guys made for me. Her thoughtfulness meant more to me than I could say. I couldn’t help myself. I gathered her up in my arms, and let my rule fly out her little cottage window.
I adopted her rule instead. No going inside her sweet pussy. It was a hell of a lot better than not touching at all. Under her rule, we could kiss. We could pet. We could fool around. But I was nervous. I told her I was worried about hurting her, expecting her to call it off. Instead, she did something completely unexpected. She took command of my pleasure and hers. She became my domme.
I was her boy, and she was my petal. And did that ever do it for me! I hadn’t known I had sub tendencies, but somehow, sweet, innocent Cora sensed it. By taking charge and giving me orders to follow, she ensured I wouldn’t lose control. At least, that’s how it should have gone.
But I managed to ruin it.
After she sucked me off, giving me the best orgasm I’d had since Melissa, I lost my head. I dragged her onto my lap, my only thought to give her a taste of what she just gave me. It could never be my dick, not with how tiny she is and the risk of a pregnancy—but it could be my finger. When I reached between her warm thighs, her soaked pussy was all the invitation I needed. I sank my middle finger inside her to the hilt.
Only after she gasped and gripped my shoulders with panic instead of pleasure did I realize what I’d done. I broke her rule. I went inside her.
It should have been the end of the scene. No more being her boy. No more calling her petal. I fucked up.
But my little slip of a domme refused to end the scene. I traumatized her by breaking her one rule, and she took it in stride. She shouldn’t have had to take it in stride. I let her down.
But, weak man that I am, I let her draw me back in. I let her command me, and I poured my focus into doing right by her. I wouldn’t break the rule again. Not ever. When she told her boy to bring her pleasure, I did as thorough a job as I dared, playing with her pretty button—withoutgoing inside—until she cried out for me and fell asleep on my chest.
Holding her like that, I vowed never to hurt her again. Even if the only way to keep that vow meant keeping my distance.
“You’re afraid of hurting her,” Rev says. Since I never took his offered hand, he hooked a thumb in his jeans pocket. “You think pushing her away doesn’t cause her pain?”
I stare at the planks at my feet. “Less pain than if my Gift acts up around her.”
Rev makes a noise in the back of his throat, like he’s not convinced. Thing is, he doesn’t have to be. It’s my call whether to spend time with Cora. Not his.
“What’ll it take for you to accept her offer next time?” he asks.
I think about it. “I need one hundred percent control of my Gift.”
Rev strokes his goatee. “Tall order. None of us has one hundred percent control of our Gifts.”
“You asked what it would take.”
Scrap speaks up. “Sounds to me like the kind of thing a man should practice.”
“The kid has a point,” Rev says. “Practice makes perfect.” He wiggles his fingers. “Come on, son. Let’s make sure next time she chooses you, you can take her to bed with confidence.”
I stare at his hand. “You gonna guarantee me one-hundred percent control of my Gift?”
“Ain’t no guarantees in life.” He cracks a grin. “But we’ll have a hell of a lot of fun tryin’.”
Chapter 5
Brawn
Three in the Barn
I expect Revto lead the way to one of the three bedrooms the soldiers dedicated to our group. One of the rooms is Cora’s. The other two are split between the six of us men, minus Cora’s nightly chosen. It didn’t escape my notice that Rev directed me to put my stuff, along with his and Scrap’s, in one of the rooms, leaving the other for Grim, Doc, and Shep.
But our shared room isn’t the destination he has in mind. A short walk takes the three of us to a cluster of barns and outbuildings.
Of the several huge structures on the property, this towering red and white, weathervane-tipped barn is for the horses. White fences stretch out from one side in a grid of small paddocks, and beyond those are acres and acres of grazing pasture. Inside, the sweet scent of hay and grain tickles my nose. At our intrusion, a few of the horses shuffle their hooves and stick their heads over their stall doors.
Rev wheels the massive barn door closed and flicks a switch to light up the center aisle. Scrap heads for the closest stall and coos to a chestnut horse with a black tuft of forelock. The animal accepts Scrap’s pets with a relaxed splaying of its ears.
