Page 11 of Hard Ride
Yet I can’t resist glancing at her. She’s sitting on the couch, her hands clasped in her lap, looking down at them. Even from here, I can see the tender, pale skin at her nape, and I want to put my hand there. Grip her gently like a cat with a kitten and have her relax back against me.
She’s not relaxed now, however. I can see the hunch in her shoulders. Understandable given the shock it must have been to not only see me, but Tate too.
Ten fucking years it’s been, and there she is, her fire-red hair in a tidy bun, all dressed up in a suit. She always seemed to me to be like a dahlia in full bloom, but now she looks as if life has crumpled her petals.
Fuck. I need to stop looking at her.
I pull my gaze away, but nothing can stop my thoughts from going over and over our relationship from years ago. Late-night talks on the phone when she and Tate were arguing. Hugs when she was upset since Tate wasn’t physically demonstrative. Talking about books, since she and I had that in common.
And then, that night before she walked out, her turning up at my front door, crying because she’d had a terrible argument with Tate. She wouldn’t tell me what it was about, but the hug I gave her had ended with a kiss, and her running out on me, too. She left the next day.
I didn’t tell Tate that we’d kissed. It would have served no purpose, so I kept it to myself. But I don’t doubt that her feelings for me were another reason she fled from Tate, and the guilt from that ate me up inside.
I fold my arms and lean back against the column again. On stage, Nell is using a flogger on Amy and is explaining its use as she goes. Many of the crowd are wincing as the blows land, but there are more than a few who are looking a little flushed. There’ll be plenty more signups to the app after this, I’m guessing.
“You okay?”
Tate’s voice from beside me takes me by surprise, but I don’t turn. “Is that a trick question?” I don’t even attempt to mask the temper in my voice. He knows I’m pissed anyway.
He’s silent for a moment, then asks, “Are we going to have a problem?”
I shift my shoulders against the column. “No. I handle my shit, you know that.”
“Okay,” he says. “I’m giving Katherine time.”
I don’t need to ask what he means. I know. He’ll have laid it all out for her. Told her who and what he is, and what he wants. Now, she has to decide if that’s what she wants, too.
“You think she’s into it?” I ask, meaning the submissive part of it.
“Yes.” I can hear the certainty in his voice, and it sends an uncomfortable bolt of heat through me. The thought of her kneeling for me is all too fucking clear, and it shouldn’t be in my fucking head.
“But she’s also afraid of it,” he goes on. “And doesn’t want to admit to anything.”
I glance at him. “She was afraid ten years ago, too,” I point out, keeping my tone neutral. We had words about it after she left because it was clear that, regardless of how she felt about me, she was mainly afraid of Tate’s controlling nature. I’d seen the fear in her then, and had warned him about it, but he hadn’t listened.
He blamed himself for it later, of course, which is why I don’t want to heap more guilt onto him about it now. Still, if she’s afraid, then care needs to be taken or he’ll lose her again.
He scowls. “I’m not the same man I was ten years ago, Luc, you know that. I’m not going to force anything on her.”
I sigh. “I didn’t mean it like that. All I’m saying is don’t push her too hard, too soon. You don’t want to make her run again.” And he has the potential to do that. He’s a great Dom, but this isn’t about just any sub. This is about Katie.
His expression hardens, and he looks toward the stage. He hates being told what to do — obviously — but he’ll take it from me, even when I’m telling him something he doesn’t want to hear.
For a moment or two, he’s silent, watching Nell perform. Then he says, “No, I don’t.”
“Take it slow then,” I say. “If this is all new to her, then keep the introduction simple.”
Tate doesn’t need my advice, not when he knows what to do already, but again, this is important, and he wants to hear whatI have to say. Our skills as Doms lie in different directions, yet they complement each other. I’m a stickler for rules, as is he, but I like working with a sub’s emotions, while he prefers mind games. We both like doling out punishments, but I am sparing with mine. Praise is more pleasurable for me — building a sub up is my forte, rather than breaking them. I also like aftercare, which he does not, and I prefer to be called Daddy rather than Sir.
I did once try being a switch, but I soon realized after a few scenes that submission isn’t for me. I like control too much. Still, the experience has given me a good insight into what it’s like for the sub, and I use that in my scenes.
Tate and I double-team a sub quite often, and that’s the best rush. He and I work instinctively with each other, using our different strengths, and sometimes during a scene, it feels as if we’re reading each other’s minds. As if we’re perfectly in sync, working together to bring the most pleasure to the sub.
He gives a nod to indicate he’s heard, keeping his gaze on the stage. “I shouldn’t have waited so long to find her,” he says after a moment.
That was a discussion we’d had more than once. In the early days, it was too soon, then we started the company, and it got too busy. I was the one who told him to hold off, and yeah, part of that was not wanting her to come back into our lives again and screwing shit up again. The shit being me.
But Tate knew that.
