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As she’d watched him throughout the day, there’d been times his head had been at a slight cock, as if he was trying to hear it,wanting to hear it. She’d heard other deaf adults talk about that, a phantom pain of sorts.
It made her think of her earlier thoughts. When she moved to sit at the table, responding to his invitation to do so, she typed the words, looking for confirmation. “It was an important part of this, wasn’t it? Hearing the engines, the music. The people.”
“Yeah.” He smiled, though. “Sometimes it’ll rattle the fillings out of your head. It can get overwhelming for non-bikers, which is why I told you to let me know whenever you’re in the mood to get some ‘wind therapy.’ I’ve picked up the vibrations at least.” An odd look crossed his face, but at her questioning expression, he shook his head. “Nothing. Just digesting the day.”
When he sat down across from her, she looked at the plate of appetizing food and the wildflowers, the trouble he’d taken to give her this. She curled her hand on top of her other hand, pinky extended, and made a leisurely circle on top. She pointed to him then herself, before typing out what she’d just signed. “You’re spoiling me.”
“You deserve spoiling. You willingly came to a rally, rode on the back of my bike in choking exhaust and ball-sweating heat, all while having your eardrums pummeled.” He opened the tin foil around her potato for her and nudged more salt and butter her way if she wanted it. “You handled helmet hair with good grace, looked at a million bikes and endured fuck knows how many conversations about them. Plus got into it with surly photo-shy one-percenters.”
She considered, then typed. “You’re right. I deservea lotof spoiling. And most of the peach cobbler.”
He laughed. “I’ll give you the bigger spoon.”
The table was small enough he spread his feet apart so hers could rest between them. As she picked up her fork, she noted he’d paused. At her glance, he shook his head.
“It’s nothing. I was just thinking about Aubrey. When we put together a dinner at my place, she won’t let me eat until she says grace.”
“You’re letting a six-year-old Domme you,” she typed.
“Yeah, probably. But I don’t argue when she’s right.” He looked up at the sky, all around them, then settled his gaze on her. “Suddenly, I’m realizing just how grateful I am for a lot of things. Especially for the company I’m keeping, and how much you’ve helped me.”
The reminder of the basis for their current relationship—her expanding his comfort zone and communication skills—gave her an uncomfortable twinge. But she set that aside and typed a simple truth on her phone, pushing the screen over where he could see it.
“I’m feeling grateful myself. It’s been a good day. Say grace for us.”
He did, a simple prayer thanking God for the food and the company, and for all the blessings of the day. When he raised his head, she had an additional thought waiting for him to read.
“Thank you for making the trip so enjoyable for me. It’s been noted. And your efforts will be amply rewarded.” She had followed that with several imperious queen emojis that curved his lips.
“Oh yeah? You trying to make me rush through this steak?”
“You can rush through it all you like. I plan on savoring every bite,” she typed and signed. “Slowly. Exactly how I plan on enjoying you later.”
Putting her phone aside, she cut a piece of the steak and placed it in her mouth. As he met her gaze, she chewed it at the pace she’d described, licking the juice off her lips when she finally swallowed the bite. Muttering an amused oath, he took another pull from his beer.
“I’m yours to command, Mistress. At whatever pace that pleases you.”
She might think he was blowing smoke up her ass about wanting to spoil her, but nothing was further from the truth. Her thinking about their early sessions had turned Tiger’s mind in that direction, too.
Ever since Skye and Abby had started doing the two sessions with him, it had dramatically cut down on how often he needed a third session. Yet lately when he’d had a third session, he thought there was a different reason he’d done it. He’d made the choice to keep it contained to the club, to expend it all there, but sometimes after that second round with Skye, there was an unresolved feeling…an ache.
Everything a Mistress wanted from a male sub within the club walls, reaching that moment where she realized he wanted to offer that level of service, and in a way that met her needs and exceeded them; that was what he had always been after. When that shift happened, the Mistress stepped inside the circle with him and time stopped. They were ready to explore what they could give each other.
That ache in his gut that remained afterward had been indefinable but manageable. At least until he sat here tonight, looking across the table and thinking how much he liked pleasingher.
Not a Mistress. Her. Skye.
The fire pit illuminated her face, sculpting the shadows while it cast light on her eyes and lips, and turned the white strands of her hair more golden. As they listened to one another, using his voice and her phone, her signing, he thought he could sit and dothis for hours. It was a full-body style of communication, a total involvement of the heightened senses they both had available to them.
Somewhere along the way he’d decided a Mistress wasn’t an option for him in the real world, not as a long-term relationship. But what would it be like to be with Skye? Live with her? Be hers permanently?
Whoa.They’d only recently started seeing one another outside the club, and that had been due to his circumstances, not a conscious decision in that direction.
Plus he didn’t know what she wanted. And she’d never seemed shy about telling him that, so it was something she had to take the lead on. Right?
Maybe not. In the club she took the lead. Out in the world, if he wanted to take it further and deeper, he would tell her. Put it out there, let her decide how she felt about it.
While he sure as hell wasn’t going to do something like that tonight, he had no qualms about showing her how much he wanted her, right here and now. He’d brought her a glass of wine to enjoy by the fire as he cleared things away. He watched her as he did, her profile, those sweet strands of hair caressing her cheek, her lips. Then she turned her head and looked at him.
