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“As long as it’s the little stalk things, I like it well enough. But I’m a fiend for green beans.”
“Me, too. Especially when they’re fresh. Yum. Grab me a couple of plates,” he said, moving the eggs around in the cast iron pan. “They’re in the cabinet over the dishwasher.”
She grabbed two plates and watched as he kept an eye on the contents of the pan and threw together a salad that looked amazing with field greens, pecans, pears, and blue cheese crumbles. He then halved it, putting part on her plate and part on his. He took the frittata off the stove and onto a platter where he sliced it into six pieces.
“Bon appetit,” he said in a terrible impression of Julia Child that made her laugh.
It occurred to Anabella that he seemed to be trying to make her laugh and relax. They ate dinner and exchanged stories of their childhoods and the things they’d seen and done. Both were early achievers—Anabella getting her master’s degree so early and Coop being one of the youngest decorated SEALs.
“Didn’t your mother mind you going into the Navy so young?”
“She raised bloody hell, but my stepfather backed me up, and by the time anyone knew better, I was of legal age to join.”
“Why the Navy? Your father was Army; your stepdad a Marine.”
“Precisely,” he answered. “My own little form of rebellion. What about you? Why were you in such a rush to finish school and start your own business?”
“My parents both had substance abuse issues—not severe enough for me to be removed from the home, but it was pretty bad. All I wanted was out.”
“So, you’re not close to them?”
Anabella shook her head. “The only time I hear from them is when one or the other of them wants money. I refuse; they call me an ungrateful bitch, and we go back to neutral corners.”
“I’m sorry. That’s no way for anyone to treat their kid.”
Feeling a bit emboldened by her second ale, she said, “What made you want to become a Dom? And is everyone at Cerberus one?”
“It’s not a requirement to work there, but I think pretty much everyone is in the lifestyle. It’s all about control. For Doms or Dommes, it’s about exerting it, and for subs it’s about being able to give it up. I will tell you Miley is one of the strongest, toughest women I know, but when she’s had a good session, she’s like butter in your hands.”
“You’ve given her a—what did she call it—a session?” He nodded. “Doesn’t that make things kind of awkward for her? For you?”
“Nothing could be further from the truth. Miley is a friend of mine, and we don’t have sex. D/s isn’t always about sex. For Miley, it’s being able to let go—to find a kind of peace and solace she hasn’t had a lot of. Sometimes she needs something light to realign things for her, and sometimes she needs something a lot heavier so she can allow herself to cry. To know that she trusts me enough to do that for her is an honor and a privilege.”
“But doesn’t she feel as though she has to submit all the time?”
Coop tipped his head back and laughed. “Man, you don’t know Miley at all. Miley doesn’t submit to me, and I don’t dominate her. What I do is top her, and she bottoms for me. We both get what we need from the session. Someday, I hope some man comes around who’s worthy of her submission. That man will be one lucky sonofabitch.”
“You don’t have feelings for her?” Anabella asked, confused.
“Feelings? Sure. I care about her. Am I in love with her? No more than she is with me. We’re just really good friends.”
“She said you were a ‘whip master.’”
“I am. Are you interested in learning about D/s? If so, I’d love to show you my world.”
“I don’t think this is the right time,” Anabella said getting up from the counter to go into the kitchen to start cleaning.
“I’m not pushing, Anabella, but if you’re interested, so am I. It’s your call. It’s not like it will show up in a report or anyone will know.”
She finished cleaning. “I guess I’ll say good night.”
He smiled sadly. “Good night, Anabella. I need to check on a couple of things. If you need anything, you call out or come find me.”
“Thank you, Coop. Dinner was really delicious.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
Anabella went into her bedroom and closed the door, leaning up against it. She thought she heard him pause outside the door and then move on. When she opened the door to double check, she saw the other door close. Retreating back to her own room, Anabella removed her clothes, pulled on a long t-shirt and got into bed. She lay there for a long time, unable to sleep. She was acutely aware of the man in the other room; his presence was a tangible thing. She could feel it as keenly as if he were lying in the bed beside her.
