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And it’s not terrible. In fact, I almost like it, and I don’t know if it’s the taste, how dirty it is, or if it’s just the act of pleasing her.
When I look up into her eyes, she’s wearing an expression resembling pride.
Then she winds her fingers in my hair and smiles. “Good boy.”
And just like that, those two words become my undoing.
For some reason, my memory keeps returning to that first night and how something inside me changed in that session. Howshechanged me, and I grow more and more frustrated.
This is all her fault. She made me dependent on her.
Her approval.
Her praise.
I became addicted to how she made me feel, and now I’m like a recovering addict, stuck in withdrawal.
I didn’t ask for this. I wanted to get laid and have some fun, but she manipulated me into falling in love with her, and I’ll never get my old self back now.
I’m not drunk, and I know very well this is a terrible idea, but I pick up my phone again, open the text messages, and this time, I find her contact.
The last message was six months ago, and it’s another unanswered text from the night it all ended. The last thing I said to her:
Yes, Madame.
In a fit of frustration, I type up a new message.
I always trusted you, and I always obeyed. So now, tell me to stay gone, and I will.
I don’t even read it back before hitting Send.
Rule #8: Never break your own rules.
Eden
Wisps of soft hair brush my nose, rousing me from my sleep. I try to brush them away, only to find that someone is sleeping on my arm. I peel my eyes open to see Jack’s messy curls only inches from my face. The light peering through the blinds is blue, meaning it’s still early, and he has another hour before he needs to wake up for school.
Carefully, I drag my arm out from under his head and reach for my phone on the nightstand. Any other morning, I would roll over and go back to sleep until the alarm went off, but today, my head is swarming with reminders of last night.
Jade.
I was a royal bitch to Clay’s new girlfriend. Although I have a right to be, don’t I? It was way out of line for her to come to me in the first place.
Of course, she had no idea just how much Clay and I shared. She had no idea I was far more than his Domme. If she had known, last night might have gone differently.
The phone screen is too bright, blinding me in the dim room as I check the time.
But I don’t see the time. All I see is a new text message—from Clay.
I bolt upright and stare at the notification. My first thought is that she must have told him that she came to see me, and I know the moment I swipe open the app, it’s going to be a message from him about how heartless and cold I can be.
Fully knowing I should probably block him before reading it, I do the foolish thing and swipe open my phone and scan the message. The date stamp is from late last night.
I always trusted you, and I always obeyed. So now, tell me to stay gone, and I will.
Everything stops. For what feels like hours, I stare at the text in shock.
This is not what I expected. It has nothing to do with Jade.
