Page 32 of His to Explore
That doesn’t really answer my question. At the restaurant that night he’d said he wanted to have more of a traditional Dom role in my life. He said he wanted to take care of me more, both at the club and away from it. I couldn’t deny that’s what he had been doing. But I also can’t deny that it’s starting to feel like so much more than that.
“Look, Kensie,” he says, taking my hand and holding it against his hard thigh. “What makes up a Dom/sub relationship is up to the individuals. We don’t need to do anything just because it’s considered normal. On the same token, we don’t need to avoid anything just because it might not be the norm in this kind of relationship.”
That made me think parts of this relationship might not be typical for an arrangement like ours. But before I can figure out how to press him on that, he asks me the million-dollar question.
“Has anything happened so far that you haven’t liked?”
I think about everything we’ve done since the night at the restaurant. The amazing sex. The sleepovers. The dinners—which he swore up and down weren’t dates.
All the time he’s spent holding me.
My answer is automatic and true. “No. I’ve liked everything we’ve done.”
He smiles and leans forward to kiss me. But even as I return the kiss, I can’t stop the swirl of worry in my head.
Ihaveliked everything we’ve done. So very much. And I think that’s exactly what I’m afraid of.
GRANT
Life is good.
I’m in a booth at Club Wyld with a glass of excellent scotch in my hand, watching a hot as sin performance take place on the main stage. The best part? The woman curled up next to me in the booth.
This is becoming a regular occurrence for us, the way we spend most of our weekends these days. Not just lustful encounters and fantasy fulfillment behind the steel doors. Oh, we still have those—in fact, the sex between us has never been hotter. But it’s not the only thing we have anymore.
Now we havethis. Moments spent together out in the main room. Being social with my friends and other members of the club. Sharing a drink. Sharing meals. It’s still less common for us to see each other outside the club, but that’s not completely off limits either. I’ve had this woman in my house, in my bed. If that’s not a reason to feel fucking fantastic on a Friday night I don’t know what is.
“How do you feel about that,” I murmur against her ear, relishing the way she shivers at my breath on her skin.
Her eyes are locked on the stage where three people dance to a low, steady beat. A woman, dressed only in scraps of lace, is thecenter of the performance, while two men move around her in a sensual, complicated choreography. One of the men holds a long length of red silk rope looped around his arm, connecting him to the woman.
Each time the first man approaches the woman, he adds more rope to his creation, wrapping around her limbs and torso, under her breasts, the knots intricate in a way that looks like art. Only her legs remain unrestrained so she can continue with the sultry dance.
The second man wields a leather flogger, simulating a whipping each time it’s his turn to dance toward to the woman under the spotlight.
“That knot tying is called shibari,” I murmur in Kensie’s ear. “It’s meant to be artistically stimulating as well as serve as a means of restraint.”
“It looks beautiful,” she says softly. “So intricate.”
“Some shibari masters train for years.”
Up on stage, both men approach the female dancer at the same time, their hands sliding over her in tandem, their touches becoming yet another form of the passionate choreography.
Kensie’s breath catches and I look down at her.
“You like this,” I murmur, brushing her hair out of her face. I know her tells enough to be certain what’s happening on stage is turning her on. I pull her up onto my lap so I can whisper in her ear without disturbing the rest of the audience.
“Tell me what has your chest rising and falling so quickly,” I murmur. “Is it the knots?”
“Um…not really. I mean, I like them.”
I watch the side of her face carefully. “It’s both of them touching her at the same time, isn’t it?”
There’s a pause where she seems to be holding her breath, before she finally nods and squeezes her eyes shut, as if embarrassed.
“None of that,” I tell her, nudging under her chin. “We’re passed the embarrassment stage, aren’t we?”
She gives me a shaky smile and nods again.
