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“Hey.”
She blinked, focusing. Daniel was standing once more, peering at her face. His gaze moved over each feature as if he could decode her thoughts. Maybe he could.
“Talk to me,” he said softly.
“I…trust you.”
The corners of his eyes crinkled in a smile, but his mouth stayed soft. “I don’t think you trust people very often, do you?”
“No, I don’t. It…surprised me. To realize how much I trust you.”
“And I’m honored by that trust. And at some point I would appreciate a full rundown of the thought process that got you there, but that’s a conversation for aftercare.” He touched her chin, then ran his fingers down the center line of her body all the way to her pussy.
With every millimeter he stroked, she slid deeper into scene. Into her submission.
By the time his knuckle gently prodded the plump top of her vulva, she felt soft and willing. Wildly aroused.
“Thank you, Sir,” she murmured.
“For?”
“For using me. For giving me what I need.”
“You’re very welcome, pet.” He stepped back. “Now it’s time to get you ready to ride.” He winked in that silly exaggerated way that made her smile.
When he turned to the bag there was only one dark thought that she couldn’t fully put aside.
He knew so much about her…but she knew nothing about him.
* * *
She was perfect.
No, not perfect. Perfect wasn’t real. No person could be perfect.
What Autumn was, was perfectfor him.
He’d never felt so in tune with a submissive before. Somehow he could look at her and he just knew. What she was feeling, what she needed.
And the way that they both were able to slide from a heavy D/s vibe to a lighter, companionable moment and back again was astonishing. In the past, pulling back from that place where he kept his need for control, from his Dom persona, into being just Daniel would disrupt the energy of the scene.
With her it didn’t.
With her he felt…whole. Like he could be wholly himself. And that meant he wanted to tell her about his past.
The overseers knew, due to the club vetting process, and while the shittiest parts of his childhood were readily accessible to anyone willing to google, he didn’t talk about them. He’d accepted his own past, thanks to years of therapy, and he still went every other week, but while his therapist had helped him process his trauma, he hadn’t been totally forthcoming with them about how heavily into D/s he was.
He hadn’t told his therapist, because he knew what they would say. He’d point out that Daniel’s deep need for control was an understandable coping mechanism, given what had happened to him. In other aspects of his life he’d worked on giving up control. On letting other people take charge, even if that gave him anxiety.
The one place he hadn’t tried to adjust his behavior was when it came to BDSM. He didn’t want to be told that the healthiest thing for him would be to walk away from the lifestyle, and he was absolutely certain that would be the primary suggestion.
He couldn’t give up being a Dom, but he had pushed himself to be more of a service top. The best scenes were ones where the submissive got what she needed.
Outside of the club he was in control, but not controlling. He never let his Dom side come out to play, unless he was safely within the Las Palmas gates.
Earlier he’d thought about asking her out. Romantic thoughts fueled by moonlight, tied in with the desire to help her, even rescue her from her own demons.
What he was feeling right now was far less romantic. It was something deeper and more complicated.
