Page 20 of Destined By Dragonblood
“It’s okay if you’d rather do that. You don’t have to share personal information with me.”
She huffed a shaky laugh, her violet eyes glancing at me and away again. “Pretty sure we’ve shared more personal things than most acquaintances.”
“You have me there,” I said with a smile, wishing she could have me other ways.
“Want a drink?”
“Water would be great,” I replied, slipping off my coat and hanging it on a hook beside hers.
Ashley shuffled into the kitchen in the cutest pink bunny slippers, and I trailed after her, scanning the interior of her home while she flicked on lights. She had blinds and curtains drawn over every window, their drab tan color matching the rest of the interior. Few personal items littered the area, and not even the kitchen appeared lived-in with how clean it was.
Was she a naturally tidy person, or did her trauma inflict the need for control over her environment?
She handed me a glass of water, and I followed along behind her into the living room.
“Can I sit with you?” I asked as she settled on the couch, slippers shucked and socked feet tucked beneath her.
A lone hardback chair, appearing unused, sat across from her, a plump pillow atop the seat.
Ashley glanced at it before nodding consent for me to share space with her.
Either she wanted me close by or was pushing her boundaries as she’d said Doc Hasslet had recommended she do. Perhaps both, but I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Settling into the opposite corner as her, I sipped my water. “I’m no therapist, but I’ve seen and heard a lot in my years as a Dom.”
Ashley glanced at the barricaded window, wrapping her arms around herself again. “I can imagine.”
More than anything, I yearned to place demands on her so I could turn her mind off, but she wasn’t the type of submissive looking to be bossed around twenty-four-seven. Unlike with Dolyn, I’d never gotten the sense she looked for direction in our scenes, but they both submitted beautifully to the pain I gave, which allowed them release.
“I’m broken,” she whispered, bringing my full focus back on who needed me right now.
Not sure of her background or issues, I didn’t argue. But I’d seen worse trauma-haunted individuals come through my club’s doors over the past decade and find partial healing. “You’re a beautiful soul, one of the sweetest women I’ve ever met.”
A soft smile curved her generous lips I’d dreamed of countless times seeing wrapped around my cock.
She caught me staring, her cheeks flushing as she glanced away again. “You might not think that if I told you how and why I ended up at your club.”
“Nothing about your past will change how I feel about you.” I tore my focus off her mouth.
Ashley turned her gaze on me, searching my eyes as though desperate for connection yet suspicious as hell.
Fuck, could I empathize with both.
She started picking at her pinkie finger, something I’d noted before when she grew uneasy. “You know what grooming is?” Her question released as a ragged whisper, causing my insides to tighten.
I nodded and sipped to keep from cursing as my mind went in ten different directions, each and every one dark and disturbing.
“The pastor from my parents church was a revered man.”
Her truth hit me like a fist to the gut, and I listened as Ashley explained in detail about the lies he preached from his pulpit and how his flock was blinded to the truth of the evil man feeding them bullshit.
Feeling powerful for having caught his attention, she’d initiated their flirting, but resulting manipulation on his part landed her tied up on a basement bed for two days, lured in by promises of enlightenment and worship. Not one inch of her body had been ignored, her three holes used without permission, and all the while he’d blamed her “Eve nature” and budding body for his sinful downfall. But once finished, he’d praised her for being so perfect an angel that she ought to sit by the right hand of God.
Had I believed in his god, I would have agreed with the sick fuck.
Ashley was a divine creature.
The rapist had released her, threatening her with eternal damnation if she spoke a word of what had happened in those torturous forty-eight hours.
