Page 6 of Loving Luna

Pulling away, she nodded. “Let’s get coffee in a couple days. I’ll tell you all about it.”

I nodded, gave her one more squeeze and skipped away, making my ass sway extra when I passed by Drake on my way out of the Dungeon.

To my dismay, he didn’t let me make a clean escape, and instead, caught my arm as I skipped by, impeding my planned escape.

“Luna.”

His serious Dom-like tone stopped me in my tracks, and I met his gaze, swallowing hard, while still trying to keep my own tone light. “What’s up?”

He didn’t let up. “You know what’s up. We need to talk.”

Without getting my ass beat tonight, I probably would have told him where to shove it, but as it happened, thanks to Mistress Maureen and her sneaky antics, I was still angry, but was feeling a new softness toward the situation, and like I had the ability to deal with it I hadn’t possessed before.

“So talk,” I challenged. It may have come out a little bratty, but it was still progress.

Drake sighed, shifting his gaze from side to side. “I have another hour before I’m off.”

I shrugged my shoulders. I wasn’t going to make this easy for him.

“Go get dressed, eat something. Meet me in the bar in an hour.”

His tone was firm, brooking no argument, which of course made me want to argue. I didn’t though.

“Fine. See you in an hour. Drinks are on you.”

“They always are.”

CHAPTER TWO

DRAKE

Don’t fuck it up. Don’t fuck it up. Don’t fuck it up.

That was the mantra on repeat in my head through the rest of my shift.

A big, scary, textbook Dom I was not.

Don’t get me wrong, though, I could be.

Just like I did know that Doms aren’t all big and scary and are allowed to be people, and not just rule-making, ass-paddling machines. I’m all about breaking stereotypes and calling out conforming bullshit when I see it.

Usually.

But, I wasn’t acting like myself at the moment. I knew I wasn’t. I could see it happening, was cringing over it, even, but I still couldn’t stop it.

That was what Luna did to me. She tied me all up in knots. She made me afraid of my own shadow because I was so sure I was going to trip over my tongue and say something dumb to scare her off again.

Like that time last week when I told her I was in love with her. That I wanted a relationship. That I considered her my end game.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

This wasn’t just some chick I’d been dating non-exclusively for a while that I’d mistakenly assumed had the same wants and needs as I did. I hadn’t just miscalculated.

This was my best friend of many years. I knew exactly how she felt about commitment. I knew exactly how gun-shy she was.

But still, I’d thought… I don’t know what I’d thought. That I was special? That what we had was different? That our close bond and friendship would somehow mean she wouldn’t just drop me like a hot potato and run screaming away like she would have with anyone else?

I’d been wrong. So, so, grossly, horrifically wrong.

---