Page 39 of Rescuing Ally: Part 1

I turn, my other hand finding Hank’s forearm, completing the circuit between us.

I swallow hard, excitement and curiosity tangling in my gut. “I’m not scared,” I admit, surprising even myself. “I’m… curious.”

Gabe steps closer, his fingers brushing the inside of my wrist, deliberate and coaxing.

“Curious about what specifically?”

I meet his gaze, heat surging through me.

“How it will feel,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “With someone who doesn’t pretend. Someone who knows.”

Gabe’s thumb circles lazily over my pulse point, his touch deceptively light, but I feel the weight of his presence—his awareness of me, of this moment.

“Someone who knows what?” His voice is low, coaxing, though there’s an edge to it, something sharp beneath the silk.

I exhale slowly, grounding myself in their presence, the strength of their bodies, and how they listen—really listen.

“Someone who knows how to take control without taking over.” The words come carefully, but my voice doesn’t waver. “Someone who understands that control doesn’t mean forcing submission. That it’s somethinggiven, not taken.”

Hank’s breath draws in slow and measured. His fingers flex where they rest against his thigh, his knuckles whitening before he releases the tension. Gabe is completely still, his gaze locked on mine with an intensity that heats my skin.

I press on.

“The first time I was taken, my choices, my autonomy—everything that made meme—was ripped away. I wasn’t afraid. I was… erased.” I swallow, my throat tightening around the memory, but I force myself to hold their eyes, to own my truth.

Hank shifts first, the barest movement, but I feel it in my bones.

“I lost my ability to decide,” I continue, my voice steady. “My body wasn’t my own. My fate wasn’t my own. I was just… something to be sold.” The words land heavy between us, but I don’t let them settle into silence.

I lift my chin, stepping forward, bridging the space between us.

“But you two…” I drag my gaze between them, reading the tension lining their strong frames, the restraint in their powerful bodies. “You offer something different. You take control but give me the choice to hand it over. And that?” My breath shudders on the exhale. “That makes me feel safe.”

A muscle ticks in Hank’s jaw. His control is precise, deliberate—but his pulse thrums hard at his throat, giving him away.

Gabe, though? He lets out a slow, rough breath and tips his head slightly, assessing. He’s always watching, always calculating, but there’s something else now—a shift, like he’s realizing something about me that maybe even I hadn’t fully acknowledged until now.

“I don’t want to be afraid of what I want anymore,” I say, softer now, more to myself than to them. “I want to know how it feels.”

Gabe’s fingers tighten on my wrist, not painful, just anchoring. “How what feels, sweetheart?”

My stomach clenches, anticipation twisting through me. But I don’t hesitate.

“How to let go. How it feels with men who…” I wet my lips, forcing myself not to break eye contact, even as heat floods my cheeks. “Who know how to dominate a woman safely.”

A breathless pause.

But that’s not all.

I swallow hard, pulse hammering, my thoughts catching up to my instincts—to the quiet truth I’ve been circling since I met them.

“It’s not just about knowing,” I murmur, more to myself at first, but as I say it, I realize how much it matters. My voice steadies, certainty solidifying. “You don’t just know how to dominate… you need to.”

Hank still doesn’t move, but something changes in his posture—something almost imperceptible, but I feel it in my bones.

Gabe exhales slowly, his fingers tightening around my wrist, just enough to make me aware of his control.

“I’ve been with men who played at dominance,” I continue, my voice barely above a whisper. “Men who wore it like a mask, who followed a script.” I shake my head, lifting my chin as I pull in a breath. “It was empty. Surface-level.”

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