Page 70 of The Sinner's Sanctuary

“Are you getting anything out?”

“It all looks like water.”

“Then you have a clean ass. Congratulations.”

“I don’t need to do anything else?” I ask.

My phone is on the counter on speaker while I towel off in the bathroom having completed my first douche.

“You could use a wipe and sort of stick it up in there if you want to, but it might irritate your hole.”

“My hole is already irritated.” The turkey baster thing wasn’t exactly non-invasive. “Do you have to do this every time? What about spontaneity?”

“I hardly ever do it,” he says.

“And nothing bad has ever happened?”

“Trust me—you can tell when something’s in there that shouldn’t be. When that happens it’s better not to try and create a moment. Now, can we talk about whether it’s a good idea to fuck your boss?”

“I honestly doubt he’s gonna fuck me,” I say running the tap to warm the water so I can shave.

“But the door’s open, so to speak.”

“I guess so.”

“And you don’t think that’s just a little bit stupid?”

I squirt some shave gel into my hand. “He’s not gonna fire me for being slutty.”

Drew laughs. “I don’t even recognize you right now.”

“So, it might be awkward after. I’m always awkward. What do I care?”

“You’re not as awkward as you think you are, Chris. You have an almost complete lack of self-awareness, but you’re not awkward or weird or whatever other oddball adjective you might come up with. You’re like the dude in black at the back of art class that all the girls want to notice them while you’re secretly fucking the captain of the football team.”

A laugh bursts out of me as I lather up my face. “Okay. I think you’ve been enough help tonight, but I appreciate it. You came in clutch, and I owe you one.”

I didn’t tell Drew what I’m actually doing tonight, but I did tell him I’d be with Gibson, and we’ve been messing around since Rome. I hinted I was hoping to take it further, which is when he launched into twenty questions about Marianne while I squirted water up my ass. His questions were justified. I’ve been asking myself all of them ad nauseam. Drew stopped shy of invoking daddy issues, but it’s not like we both weren’t thinking it.

I’m not as nervous tonight as I was yesterday to see Gibson. Partly because I’ve been with him all day, but also because last night, he definitely tipped his hand. He’s into me.

I should probably be more anxious than I am—because there’s gonna be a scene or whatever, but I’m too horny—and hyperconscious of my asshole.

The idea of him using it in some way—whatever reason he wants it clean for—has me vibrating. Long story short, I’m notthinking about Trinity, and I don’t know whether that’s progress or compartmentalization. Kind of defeats the purpose of being tied up and flogged, though. I’m hoping forthatpart of tonight, at least, I can get into the proper mindset. There’s supposed to be a point to this.

As I shave, I remember the soft leather restraints that held me down in Rome. Gibson’s hand on my neck. The way the flogger was too much and not enough. The way I’d sobbed when everything felt hopeless. That nothing could ever absolve me.

And I don’t feel absolved. But I am distracted, which isn’t my baseline. I’m one of the most focused and single-minded people I’ve ever met. Stubborn and self-absorbed. I ruminate, perseverate, agitate over things I have no hope of controlling. I don’t get thrown out of my thought process easily.

But I don’t usually develop attractions for powerful men, either. Maybe it makes sense that he dominates my thoughts, too.

Before I overthink what to wear, I text him.

Dress code?

Gibson

Black tank, loose pants, something to cover your arms before you get to my room.

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