Page 52 of Rebellion

Something’s Wrong

Angel,

For so long I’ve been hiding from you and myself. You tore at the careful walls I’d built to keep you safe. Safe from me.

How will I earn your forgiveness if I can’t even show you who I am? I’m so afraid the real me will destroy the real you, this beautiful phoenix that burns so passionately.

I never want to quench those flames that make you who you are.

The floundering fish may fall in love with the brightly burning bird. But where would they live?

I’m sorry this message is dark and convoluted, but I’m on the verge of doing something that may change our relationship forever.

Always yours,

Gray

Sir had agreed to let me dominate him. Tomorrow night. He didn’t want to, but he had.

I still couldn’t believe it.

There had been a truckload of conditions and his list of limits on what I could and could not do to him was about as long as War and Peace.

I could tie him up, but I couldn’t blindfold him. I could use a crop, a cat-o-nine-tails, Wartenburg wheel, but no nipple clamps and absolutely no spanking. He would kneel, but he would not crawl, lick my boots, or act like any sort of animal in anyway.

The number one hard limit – I absolutely was not to remove his mask.

The list of don’ts was much larger than the list of can-do’s, but it didn’t matter. I wasn’t going to use any of it. Well, maybe the kneeling, but only to give him a taste of his own medicine.

I had plans.

He’d taught me well that a Dominant’s job is to know, understand, and do their utmost best to pleasure a sub, to get inside his or her head and pull out whatever fantasy needed to be fulfilled.

I was damn sure I knew what it was that brought Sir pleasure, and it wasn’t being tied up and told what to do.

I had the whole day to plan down to the tiniest detail how this scene would go.

If only people would effin’ leave me alone.

I’d already sent both Dominic and Ilario away, fielded a call from Cade about some upgrades he thought the brownstone needed, and now Tate was at my door.

Plus, there was that email from Gray in my inbox.

“Pretty please, Angelina.” Tate leaned against my vanity while I put my make-up on. His cajoling tone and relaxed demeanor gave the impression this wasn’t important, but he played with the small bottles and brushes on the tray in front of me. “This could mean the difference in getting continued backing from Foster or not.”

I swiped powder across my cheeks and nose. “You’ll have to let your guy know that I am not taking clients yet. Besides I’ve already got plans for tonight.”

Tate moved behind me and massaged my shoulders. “Ange, it’s a hundred-thousand dollars. With that kind of money, I wouldn’t even need Foster.”

That was a lie. The small changes that Foster’s guidance had brought to the club were already making a difference. If it was only about the money, I’d offer to give or lend the money to Tate. I could simply buy him out, but this club was as important to him and I hoped I had as much passion when I had my own club someday.

Taking on a private client who wanted to be dominated wasn’t the right move for either of us.

“I am not a prostitute, and I’m not taking clients. And don’t call me Ange.”

He dug into a knot between my neck and my shoulder I didn’t even know I had. “God, no. You don’t have to have sex with him.”

He purposely ignored half of my protest. I knew what he was trying to do.

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