Page 40 of Dr. Fellow

His words don’t scare me in the least—they excite me. There’s something about this side of Walker, this commanding presence that he hides under his usually stoic exterior, that ignites something naturally submissive within me. Like I respect him a little more knowing that he’s about to follow through with his promise.

He pulls back and his eyes scan my face like he’s searching for any sign of doubt or fear. Finding none, he nods, satisfied with my reaction. “Let’s go.”

He gestures his chin toward my bedroom door at the other side of the kitchen.

I turn, feeling his eyes on me as I walk. When I reach my room, I pause and lean against the closed door, waiting for him.

He strides toward me with measured steps, stopping close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from his body.

“I know you have a hard time listening, little devil, but if you’ve heard anything at all that I’ve said tonight, it’s that you are actually the one in control here. You can stop this at any time. Consent between us is always fluid.”

“Got it. Don’t worry though, if there’s one thing you can count on, it’s that I’ll always use these filthy lips to tell you what I want. That was rule number one, no?”

“Something like that.” A hint of relief flickers across his face before it hardens again. “So you can listen. You just choose not to.”

I shrug my shoulders. “When what you’re saying is important.”

“What I say is always important,” he comments, his voice dropping to a huskier tone. “But tonight, I’m going to need you to listen to everything. Can you do that for me?”

I nod, my playfulness quickly shifting into something more serious, more eager.

“Good girl,” he coos, gesturing toward the bed. “Let’s see how this goes.”

Chapter 16

Walker

Morgan’s bedroom is nothing like I’m expecting. While her entire life resembles chaos from the outside, her personal space is incredibly tidy and inviting. Her white wooden bed is freshly made and covered in a sage green duvet cover that’s nearly identical to the shade of her eyes. An ivory wool rug covers the majority of the floor, completely free of dirt or scuffs. Even the cream throw pillows are organized, sitting in a line like she took deliberate care with them.

I softly close the door behind us.“Stop right there.”

To my surprise, she follows my instructions without so much as a peep, instantly pausing in the open area in front of her bed and spinning to face me. Her eyes have dulled slightly, her blown pupils calming the colorful storm that normally rages. The bedside lamps behind her shine a dim light, illuminating her soft features in a way that makes it difficult to look away.

I step closer and push the sleeves of my crew neck up my forearms.

“Are you familiar with the traffic lights?” I ask the question with confidence, but I only learned about them from research that I did recently.

Morgan smirks like she wants to reply with a sassy retort but holds her tongue. “I am.”

After I finished the book that Morgan recommended, I got curious and started reading about kink—everything from scholarly articles to firsthand experiences in the community. It was either that or sit around the house and twiddle my thumbs, so I figured I might as well educate myself.

My sex life in the past was incredibly vanilla for two reasons—my ex-wife was never interested in anything else, and there isn’t a ton of time for kink exploration when you’re working over a hundred hours a week. But when I thought more about it, I realized that some of my earliest fantasies involved hardcore BDSM, among other things. I think that’s partially because I never felt like I was in control of my own life, so being in control sexually was always arousing to me. But it’s also just fucking hot knowing that you have your partner’s full submission, something Morgan and I are quickly veering toward.

I tried to consider why I wanted to try this with her, but all I could come up with was that it just feels natural. Sure, outside of the bedroom we battle and banter like the best of them, but there was something about the way she responded to me the other day that made me wonder if this could work—if she wanted to be tamed by someone who deserved her submission.

I know that it’s entirely possible that neither one of us will like this dynamic because I’ve never explored this side of myself, and I sincerely doubt that Morgan has either. But while it could completely blow up in our faces, it also could work beautifully.

“Explain them to me,” I state, circling her slowly.

“Red to stop. Yellow to slow down. Green to keep going.” Her voice is steady as her eyes track my movement.

“Good. And just so we’re clear, those colors apply at any point, for any reason. And when I ask for a color, I’m expecting you to respond accordingly. If you need a minute, I’m going to pause until you can answer.”

She nods. “Understood.”

“Let’s take it slow tonight and see how it goes. But here’s what I’m interested in—I want to test how well you can listen. And if you even like listening, for that matter.” I wink at her and earn a small smirk in return. “So any time you speak to me within this room, I’d like you to respond with ‘Sir’ at the end. Can you do that?”

“Yes, Sir.”

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