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Finally, looking up, he replies, “It means…we’d go into a room, and I would do whatever the fuck she told me to.”
“Like sex?”
“No,” he replies quickly while walking one way, then spinning back toward the other. “Yes. Sort of.”
“What is sort of sex?” I reply.
He chuckles. “Wehadsex, but that’s not what I paid her for.”
My brows pinch inward even farther. “I’m so confused.”
“Yeah, well, so was I,” he replies, laughing to himself. He always seems to cover up his insecurities with humor, but I don’t laugh with him.
“Why?” I ask, shaking my head. “Why would you pay her for that?”
Looking utterly defeated, he drops his hands by his sides and gives me a shrug. “I don’t fucking know.”
“Where did you meet her?”
Rubbing the back of his neck, he winces. “At a sex club.”
My eyes widen as I stare at him in surprise. “Asexclub? What is that?”
“Well…it’s a place where people go to have sex.”
“Obviously,” I reply, rolling my eyes. Then my gaze settles on him, clearly looking distraught and flustered by having to admit all of this to me. “I’m just shocked that you were at a sex club.”
This is what he was so concerned about? That I wouldn’t understand his kinky past?
Or is it his present?
Rewinding the conversation in my head, I realize something.
“Was?” I ask. “Shewasyour Domme? But she’s not anymore? Is it because of me?”
There is something intimate in his eyes. Then he steps toward me, pressing me back against the car again. “No, baby. She stopped being my Domme before you came along.”
“What happened?” I whisper.
He’s struggling again, clearly keeping everything he wants to say locked behind a wall, afraid to let it all spill out. He softly mutters, “I just realized I wanted more.”
My mouth forms an O shape. “More from her?”
He stares down at me with a softness in his eyes. “More from anyone.”
This makes my heart ache for him.
“Remember six months ago when I was in a funk?”
I nod.
“That’s why. I was paying a woman to give me the attention I wish someone had given me for free.”
My hands wrap around his waist, and I pull him closer, burying my face in his neck. “I’m sorry, Clay.”
He holds me close, running his hands over my back. Then he presses his lips to my hair.
“It’s okay. She was just doing her job. That’s all it was.” He sounds so despondent, and it makes me wonder if there’s more I don’t know.
