Page 38 of How May I Please You

I want our pitch black version of happiness, and in order to get it, I may have to let go of my distrust. My seed of doubt has sprouted and is growing too much. I need to pull it out by the root and burn it so that Journey and I can be happy. At the end of the day, that’s all I really want. Yes, I’m a beast who will squeeze someone’s throat until they turn fifty shades of blue and never breathe again, but my beast wants its devil more than anything else. I simply desire a kink-filled life of pain and bliss with Journey, but God help anyone who tries to keep me from having it, and that includes Detective Summers.

chapter

twenty-three

After far too many hours of pouring concrete at the job site, I finally make it back to my world. It doesn't matter how long I’m gone, I miss home every time I leave it. It’s the same with Journey. Concerned about the diner fire or not, I miss her every time she’s not in my presence. While I'm running around construction equipment and heavy machinery, my mind always finds its way back to her—to wishing my fingers could grip her throat and squeeze until it changes colors. My eyes see work being done and checkboxes being marked as complete, while my mind imagines my Little Devil bent over in front of me, her entire body being squeezed by ropes so that she can’t move. Sometimes I think about it so much that the sound of whirring machines is drowned out by the screaming orgasms I hear in my head. The compilation of sounds and images always gives me something exciting to look forward to.

I spent the rest of the day thinking about what my next move will be. On one hand, I fucking hate Marty Summers. Looking down on his immobile body while he bleeds out would bring me nothing but pure joy, and I battle the temptation of slicing his jugular. On the other hand, my hatred toward him can’t cost us what we’ve gained by eliminating Journey’s last partner. So, as I told Journey when we last talked about it, we’ll wait until something else develops. Outside of Summers, the other problem lies with me.

No, it lies … in her lies.

It’s deeper than that. The diner fire is bothering me more than it should. In my gut, I believe that Journey probably set the fire, but in reality I have no proof and never will. All I have to go on is Journey’s word, and she says she didn't do it. So that’s it. What's the point of dwelling on it? It only tears us apart, and I fucking hate feeling like Journey and I aren't on the same page. With that in mind, I walk into the house making sure that my Little One and I are back where we should be—in our own dark and twisted world.

When I walk in through the garage door, I’m greeted by an unfamiliar sight. Journey is sitting in the living room in black sweats and a tight white T-shirt. Her black hair is tied into a ponytail and her face is devoid of all makeup, which has never mattered for Journey—she’s spectacular whether bare-faced or not. Her dark brown eyes find me and hypnotize me in an instant, washing away all remnants of the tiring work day. She’s so fucking beautiful.

“Hey,” I say as I step into the house.

“Hey, Sir,” she replies, her voice softer than usual.

“Is everything okay? How was work?” I ask, making my way over to the coffee table and standing next to it.

Journey clears her throat. “I’m fine. I’m glad you're home. I was hoping we could talk.”

The second the words hit my ears, my heart thuds like a beat drop. Blood rushes through my veins, supercharged by the idea that this is it—Summers has said or done something that is equivalent to suicide. He threatened my queen. He put his hands on her. He did something, and whatever it is, I hope he enjoyed it because he won’t live to see the sunlight again.

Stone-faced, I sit down next to Journey, one hundred percent prepared for what’s to come. I hoped it wouldn't come to this, but Journey is a line that shall not be crossed, and the world will turn to ash for disrespecting her.

I place my hand on her knee and look her in the eye. “Tell me.”

Journey hesitates, building up the tension until I’m ready to burst out the door without even hearing what happened.

“Are we okay?” she finally asks.

My brow furrows with a tilt of my head. “What?”

“You and me,” she goes on. “Are we okay? I feel like there has been a void between us lately. We’re not ourselves and it’s not sitting right with me. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but it feels like you're holding something against me. You don't touch me as often as you used to. We don't carry constant conversations anymore. We spend our time on the couches in this living room instead of using the toys we filled our basement with. The past week or so has just felt off, and I want to make sure that we’re okay. I don't know … I guess I just miss you.”

My heart rate slows as her words sink in. So it’s not Summers crossing a red line. Instead, it’s me being told I have been cold and distant because of my suspicions. I haven't been treating my Little One the way she deserves to be treated because I’ve been too preoccupied with my suspicion. I haven't been a good boyfriend or a good Dom since the fire, and now she misses the man I was before the morning I heard about Andrea’s.

So this is it. You're letting it go.

I feel like my decision has been made for me. Journey means so much more to me than that fucking diner, and knowing I’ll never have any facts other than the ones Journey gives me makes my constant skepticism that much more pointless. It’s like I’m trying to grab a fistful of thin air.

When I see the look in Journey’s eyes, I know I’ve been doing far too much. She doesn't even have to say that she misses me. I see it in the depths of her brown eyes.

“Wow,” I start, guilt rising up my throat like bile. “I didn't realize I was acting so indifferent toward you. The truth is … it doesn't matter. The only thing that has ever mattered to me is you. All I care about is your happiness and satisfaction, and if I’ve made you feel anything other than those two things, then I haven't been doing my job for you. I apologize if I made you feel abandoned.” I reach out and take Journey’s hand, choosing this moment to let go of the bullshit I’ve been clinging to. “So, to answer your question, yes, Little One, we’re good.”

The wounded look on Journey’s face slowly melts away as she smiles at me. I see relief in her eyes now and it makes me feel instantly better knowing I gave that to her. I desire nothing more than to watch her expression switch between this one and beautiful agony.

“Okay,” she says, beaming. “I just wanted to make sure. I know you were concerned about the fire, and you asked if I started it.”

“Forget that I ever asked that. It doesn't matter,” I state again, forcing myself to believe it because it’s the right thing to do for us. “You and I are good, and my only other concern is your partner. Did he have anything else to say today?”

She shakes her head. “No. I didn't really see him much. We did some digging into Andrea’s but didn't come away with anything. He seems bruised by the conversation in which he brought you up. Since the moment he realized I was pissed, he has backed away from anything of the sort.”

“Good. Smart man. Maybe he values his life after all. If he ever decides it’s worth it to cross that line again, it’s over for him. I promise you that. I’ll handle it.”

Journey smiles as she scoots closer to me and wraps her arms around my neck. “I know you will, Sir.”

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