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“You’re worried about the woman with the Lamborghini, is that it?” Madeleine asked gently. “Because I wouldn’t be worried. Not if he gave the car back.”
“I guess… I want to know if everything he told me is true. And that’s probably not a question you can answer.”
“You’re having trouble trusting him.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.” I couldn’t bring myself to tell her about that night, four years ago. Partly because it still felt humiliating. Partly because… maybe I didn’t want her to hate Shane for it.
Oh, God. I feel protective of him.
This is not good.
“Listen to your instincts, Jolie,” my aunt told me. “Trust yourself. If something feels wrong to you, you have every right to walk away, at any time. Have you talked to him about limits? Aboutyourhard limits? And using a safeword?”
“No. We haven’t talked about that.”
“Well. You need to. As soon as possible.”
Shit. She was probably right.
“Okay,” I promised her. “I will.”
Was I really ready for this?
It wasn’t that talk of setting hard limits and a safeword with Shane was too much for me or freaking me out or anything. Just the opposite.
It was turning me on.
“Good. Now. Shall we go over this wedding design?” Madeleine set her wine aside. “I do have a date tonight, and I don’t want to be late for my handsome sub. The poor thing. He gets so anxious when I make him wait.”
Something in her tone told me that she absolutely would make him wait.
I stared at her as she began flipping through the pages I’d bookmarked in Mom’s wedding book. My amazing aunt, who was somehow normalizing all this kinky shit for me.
And I wondered what I looked like to her, an experienced Domme.
She didn’t exactly reel in shock when I told her that Shane said I was submissive.
Did she see it, when she looked at me, too?
“Are you alright, Jolie?” she asked me lightly.
“I… I’ve just never experienced anything like this before,” I stammered. “I didn’t even know I had… you know…kinks. Shane just… I don’t know… brings it out in me or something.”
“Well, darling,” she said easily, “maybehe’syour kink.”
ChapterTwenty
Jolie
“Welcome to Sex Island!” Danica’s best friend, Taylor, called out to me as she walked down the private dock toward me with a big smile on her face. She wore a flannel shirt and jean cutoffs with UGGs.
It was cool here at night, cooler than in the city, and I’d worn cozy sweats. If there was one thing I missed about California, it was the warm nights.
