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“Not long. A couple of minutes.”
“I must really have wanted to get back to you. Usually, the flashbacks are long and can be violent. Next time get yourself to a safe place and call for help.”
“No can do.” He looked at her quizzically. “If we’re in a relationship, then I’m all in. I don’t go and hide from the things that are less than perfect.”
He shook his head. “That’s not a fight I can win, is it?”
“I’m afraid not. Didn’t you tell me that things were equal on both sides of the slash?”
He nodded and smiled ruefully.
“Well, there you go. If you want me to leave, use your safeword.”
Cooper chuckled. He’d never come back so quickly or completely as he had with her. “Doms don’t have safewords, sweetheart.”
“That’s kind of dumb, but if you don’t have a safeword, you can’t opt out.”
“I am never, and I mean never, introducing you to any of the other subs at Baker Street or Southside. We’ll play at home or at other clubs.”
Confusion settled on her brow. “I thought—”
“Ah, there’s the problem,” he said, standing and scooping her up. “I don’t want you to think right now. I just want you to feel.”
“I think I can manage that,” she purred as he carried her into the larger of the two bedrooms—the one with the St. Andrew’s cross and all that went with it.
He waited for her to tense or tell him they needed to start slow, but it seemed, as she’d said, she was all in. All the adrenaline that resulted from one of his flashbacks poured through his body and every ounce of it and his blood seemed to flow straight into his cock, making it harder than he’d ever dreamed possible. Anabella recognized what he had begun to—there was something between them. The same sort of something that was shared by all his brothers-in-arms who had found their other half.
She had said yes without his even having had to ask her. He was sure that would come back someday to bite him in the ass. He was sure she’d make sure his friends knew that she had made the first move. And he’d only been teasing about not playing at Southside or Baker Street. She’d need to get over any hangups she had about being seen in a corset and something skimpy on the bottom. She was fucking gorgeous, and she was his.
He set her down and immediately she rose up to take his mouth in a kiss. She was oddly assertive and shy at the same time. She was a study in contradictions, and he couldn’t wait to explore them all. He allowed her to explore and to lead just a little bit in this first naked encounter, because he meant to get her naked. She reached for the top button of his jeans.
“No,” he said quietly. “I get you naked first and your hands and mouth don’t go anywhere near my dick without permission.”
“Let me guess—you don’t need permission.”
He nodded slowly, his mouth in a broad smile. “Me Dom; you sub.”
She laughed softly and everything about her called to him. He reached down, grasping the hem of her t-shirt and drew it over her head, revealing the most sensual and dangerous set of curves he’d ever seen.
“If you ever make a disparaging comment about this body again, you’ll either get a count of five over my knee, or I’ll give your nipple or clit a nasty twist.”
“That doesn’t sound like fun.”
“It isn’t meant to be. It’s meant to curb, if not stop behavior I see as destructive to your well-being. You’re going to look so gorgeous in a corset and thong. Men will literally be drooling, but they can’t have you, because you’re mine.”
“And that makes you mine, as well, right?” Her fingers trailed lightly down his body, tracing musculature and skeletal planes.
Her light touch made him tremble. Cooper hadn’t trembled since he was a small child, but she could undo him so easily. He was used to being friends with a woman, of being able to bring them pleasure or pain or discipline. He could fuck them and remain apart, but he knew that wouldn’t work for Anabella. She needed all of him. If she was going to submit, he needed to dominate, not just top. There needed to be more for her, and he was ready to give it all.
“Right.”
Coop continued to let her explore and find her own equality in their relationship. She needed to find her strength in her submission. He and Miley were close enough friends that they had talked very openly about that. Miley had once expressed that she had not found her true strength until she learned to let go and ceded leadership to another, if only for the duration of a session.
He’d only lost control of the flashbacks once in front of a woman and she’d cried and wailed for hours and had never been able to be around him again. He hadn’t hurt her—hadn’t even come close—but he had seen her judgment that he’d had a fall from grace and would never be a Dom in her eyes again. Anabella, on the other hand, had found a way to help him and had told him she would never leave him in that hell alone.
“Coop? Should I stop? Did I do something wrong?”
He smiled and stroked her hair. “No, baby, you’re absolutely perfect. I just let my mind drift to how perfect you are. I want you to stop, only because I’m the Dom and that means I top you not the other way around. If I catch you trying to top from the bottom, there will be hell to pay. When I have you strapped to a St. Andrew’s cross, I’ll be able to make you come just with a whip or flogger. I’ll send you into subspace so far, it’ll take you all night to come out, and I’ll be there with you the whole time.”
