Page 28 of Mob Saint

“Your mom and aunts sound marvelous.”

It’s my turn to grin. “They totally are.”

I look around. We’re not somewhere I’m worried about people spotting us, but it’s way too unprotected. It’s reckless of me to be out here with Tiera when I don’t have my gun, and we’re exposed from all directions.

“We need to go, don’t we?”

“Yes. But?—”

“I don’t want to finish talking either. I don’t want to clam up again, but I don’t know if I’ll feel this comfortable talking about all this shit again any time soon.”

I’m praying she likes this suggestion. “There’s a coffee shop down the block that’s open for another hour or so. Do you want to go there? Would your friend be okay with it?”

She bites her bottom lip before she nods. Did she want something else? To come to my place? For me to go to hers?

I help her to her feet before I grab her purse and my suit coat. She puts her hand out for her bag, but she snatches it back when my expression says no without me making a sound. I hold the coat out for her to slip on. I pull it snug around her as the breeze picks up, and I know she tries to hide her shiver. Then I hand her purse back to her, though I’m secure enough in my manhood to carry it for her. We walk to the door, and I stand where I can see more of our surroundings while she stands beside the door.

“I understand now—and appreciate now—why you call me cailín. Thank you for explaining and for having the patience you do. We’ve talked about a lot of heavy stuff tonight and the last time we were alone, and I think more will come out. But I want to know something before we’re close to anyone who could overhear. You said you’re a Dom. I get the distinct impression you have plenty of practice, and it wasn’t from a long time ago. Is this about me becoming your sub?”

Chapter Eight

Tiera

I need to know this. I don’t know what I’ll do with the answer either way. We glossed over it earlier, but I haven’t forgotten.

“No.”

Seamus’s answer is fast and emphatic. I know he’s paying keen attention to our surroundings now, and I know he regretted being distracted earlier. We should leave, but I don’t want this part of our conversation overheard any more than I did the parts we’ve already discussed. I wait for him to explain.

“You knew what I meant when I said I don’t think you’re a Little. You knew to ask if I’m a Daddy. Are you familiar with the lifestyle?”

“I am.” I suddenly am not feeling as chatty as I want him to be.

He runs his hand through his hair again, flattening it when he realizes what he’s done.

“Then you understand there’s a deep connection between a Dom and a sub. There’s trust and sometimes even affection. There’s desire to give and take that feeds emotions for both partners that goes beyond merely the physical. But sex is at the heart of plenty BDSM D/s arrangements. It’s not inherently romantic, even if it becomes that way for some people. I desire you more than I ever have another woman. Yes, I want to touch every part of you, show you how much I want you. I also want way more. The way I want you, the reasons I want you are more than just physical attraction, Tiera. I want things with you I’ve never wanted with any other woman.”

“Like what?” I speak barely louder than a whisper. I think he reads my lips more than hears me.

“I want companionship. I want other kinds of intimacy than what just sex or even BDSM can offer. I want time on the soccer field with you.”

That makes me laugh. I reach out and place my hand on his heart. I don’t want him to think I’m mocking his admission. Just the opposite. I step closer.

“I’ve already said it twice, but you are a sweet man. You’re being open with me, and I appreciate it. But I see the way you retreat when you’re not sure what I mean. You’re guarded about everything because of who you have to be. I think you’re also really shy. I don’t think people see it because you command every space you enter. Because you exude dominance. You have to, to stay alive. I don’t think you’re usually as forward as you have been while we talked out here.”

“You understand more about me than most people who’ve known me most of my life.”

“Because you’ve let me see the real you.”

“That’s why the answer to your question is no. I don’t want you to be my sub. If that’s what I wanted, you wouldn’t have a clue how I truly feel about anything beyond sex and the dominance and submission that can go with that.”

“I think you have a sub right now.”

I say that, but I really don’t want to know the truth. I can’t take it back. He doesn’t look thrilled to answer, but I can tell he’ll be honest.

“I do. We are free to date if we want, but our agreement is to be sexually monogamous. That’s been fine for me because there’s been no one I’ve wanted to date since I graduated high school. That arrangement no longer works for me. Even if you say no when I ask you out again, things have changed for me. I don’t want—can’t—be with her if I’m thinking about someone else. I won’t do that to her because that’s what will happen if I try.”

“You want to end your arrangement—your relationship—because of me?”

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