Page 61 of At Her Will

She didn’t care for the thought, but that was expected at this stage, too. She wouldn’t let him go until it was time, but when itwas time, she’d know, because the idea would hurt less then than it did now, in the powerful flush of their beginning. She’d gone through that cycle with Whistler, then Trey, but both men could still play with her easily, club friends with benefits.

She let all that go, because it was interfering with this, witnessing how Rev was captivating and energizing everyone. Moments like this were meant to be celebrated, not drained by future worries.

Rev circled back to an earlier lyric to bring it to a close, and put his own spin on it. Instead of saying he would be keeping his feet firmly on the ground, he locked his eyes upon her and sang it a different way.

“Keeping mykneesfirmly on the ground.”

He dropped to them then, for her.

Appreciation for the showmanship made the ceiling vibrate with cheers and whoops. He wasn’t aware of that, his eyes on her, registering her flush of pleasure and her response, strong enough to compete with what he’d put into the song.

He bowed his head to her, breathless, his shoulders lifting and falling.

There was singing for celebration, for mourning, for finding your way. For reassuring oneself, when you felt lost or unbalanced.

She’d brought him into an environment where he could experience all of that. That short session they’d done, followed by this, had turned his singing into an emotional catharsis that tears, edginess or sleep provided other subs.

Trey and Sy kept jamming out, transitioning the audience toward the normal dancing and bopping to the music. Grounding them as well.

Realizing Rev was waiting for an acknowledgement, she rose. As she left the booth, she touched Cyn’s arm, another reassurance.

When Vera came to him, she put her hand on Rev’s shoulder. He pressed his forehead to her leg, his hand resting on her foot. Then he kissed her knee, his mouth moist through the mesh of her stocking.

Sy and Trey’s gazes were on him, and her. They all knew about turning points, a full-fledged, honest, uncalculated surrender to a Mistress. A letting go of any defenses. Many subs, caught in the maelstrom, might do it long before they knew the Dom well enough, but with the right Dom, one experienced and looking out for their interests, it was okay.

Because as much as the Domme herself, they were embracing that lack of control they needed, an integral part of themselves. The Domme was just the conduit, the one who took them on the journey and introduced them to the world they wanted and needed, that they couldn’t be whole and complete without.

She’d had the honor of being that conduit before. Despite her thoughts of only a moment ago, she realized she wanted this to be way more than that. And it wasn’t just because of that nagging emptiness, the pain of watching the other women in her circle find it.

She’d always wanted a relationship where she and her sub were bonded so closely there was no doubt it was divinely inspired. Fate, destiny. Whatever it wanted to be called.

Her heart and soul said it was right here, kneeling at her feet. Later she might rein herself back from that thought, but right now, she had no problem letting that belief enclose both of them.

Dropping to her heels, she wrapped her arm around his back, curving herself over him and murmuring the words she wanted to say. And that he needed to hear.

“You’re mine, Rev.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Rev leaned against the wall across from the club’s restrooms and changing areas. While benches were spaced along the corridor, he’d preferred to stand, with his arms crossed, head down.

He was dealing with a lot inside. She’d told him that was normal, but she’d also kept close watch on him, mentally and physically. He needed to find his footing and reassure her that he was all right. But first he had to make sure that was true.

He thought it was. He was just caught up in a state of curiosity and wonder. His main challenge was managing a raging need…for something. For her, for certain. To have her, be with her, hold her, feel her bare flesh against his, be inside her, moving strong like an ocean current that would take them places far beyond what he’d even thought was possible in his earthly existence.

He wanted to kneel to her. He wanted to care for her. Help her take off her clothes for bed, kneel by her shower while she bathed, and be there with a towel to press against her skin. He wanted to see that look in her eyes she’d had when she’d gripped him at the table, right there in front of everyone.

It had made him even harder, and she’d understood that, too. He wouldn’t have thought that about himself, that he could let a woman do such a thing in front of other people, but it was as she said. Here, it was allowed. She’d used his own words to help him understand this place. This village found such things acceptable. And it opened up a whole new world of things for him to want from his Mistress.

Others passed him, coming and going from the restrooms. He’d almost gotten used to being evaluated in the way expected here. He nodded courteously to each, because even if their faces showed a brief flash of disappointment, they all accepted what his bracelets meant.

Villages tended to accept best what they shared in common, and this environment was no different.

Tisha and Witford had called it adeviant lifestyle.

He still hadn’t put that one to bed inside him, the vile things they’d said to Veracity. There were things a man couldn’t share with his family, that arguably were not their business, but still…their judgment had come from an ugly place, and that ugliness could grow into a monster in his heart, because he didn’t know how to fix it.

Because it wasn’t his job to fix it. Not until the Lord showed him how. But sometimes believing that didn’t make the heart as easy as one could hope. Especially when someone he loved had created the wound and the infection that lingered in it.

---