Page 91 of Deacon

“How can I trust you not to…abuse that?”

She has every right to ask that question after everything she’s been through. I’ve thought about this part of BDSM so many times before. This is what can make it dangerous, why it’s important to be careful entering into contracts or doing scenes with people I don’t know well. The only thing that separates what I do with her from the unthinkable is a single word.

And therein lies the weak point.

She can submit to me. She can put her life in my hands. But her safety is completely built upon the trust that if she safewords me, I’ll listen.

“Have I ever hurt you?” I ask.

Her face goes still, her eyes are far away. There’s an expectant pause. Then, she shakes her head.

“No,” she admits.

“Look at me, sweetheart.”

She lifts her chin. I wrap my hands around her waist, absently entranced by the soft curve of her waist.

“Kink doesn’t have to be about extreme lengths. For me, it’s about the…connection. With you,” I say, trying hard to articulate this clearly. “The main thing I want from you is for you to let me be the caretaker. We can talk about the kinky shit on a case-by-case basis.”

The corner of her mouth turns up.

“That’s hard for me to…process,” she whispers.

“Why?”

“Because…nobody has taken care of me,” she says. “My mother left when I was so young, I barely remember her. Growing up, I dressed myself, I fed myself, and when I cried, I comforted myself.”

My chest aches. I pull her near, and her arms slip around my neck.

“Not anymore,” I say firmly. “From here on out, that’s my job.”

Her hands come up and trace the lines of my face. I’m still, barely breathing. She’s always been like a wary animal. When she’s close, I hold my breath for fear of scaring her away.

“I need to think about this,” she says.

“We’ll talk tomorrow.”

She bends in and kisses me, slow and deep. It’s slow fire, all the way down to my groin. Then, she lays her head on my chest, and I settle back against the pillows and hold her until she falls asleep.

The moon is up, the sky clear for once. The stars are so thick, they cast everything in a pale white glow. Through the center of it spills the Milky Way. I’ve looked up at the sky over Ryder Ranch time and time again, but it’s different with her, knowing how badly I need her to stay and watch the stars with me. Forever.

My eyes shut. She’s snoring a little, her hair fluttering over her face.

This is peace like I’ve never known.

It feels like a second later when I’m wide awake, my arms empty. I blink hard, fixing my gaze out the window. The sun is rising over the inky mountains. The fireplace still glimmers. Her side of the bed is a lump of blankets.

My body hurts worse today than it did yesterday. I swing my legs off the bed and pull on my sweats, being mindful of the gauze on my thigh. Then, I limp into the bathroom.

My heart stops.

There’s a note stuck to the mirror with medical tape.

The world screeches to a halt. I rip it down and open it.

Bittern said it was safe to go home. He said Aiden hit him. I have to go make sure he’s alright.

Please don’t be angry with me.

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