Page 8 of Disgrace

“Is there a problem? You seem to be huffing.” I bite my lip to keep from laughing at the irritation dancing in her eyes. I am glad I don’t laugh because in the next instant, she shoots to her feet and strides toward me pushing me hard in the chest. She manoeuvres me back out of her bedroom and into the hall.

“Other than you being in my bedroom you mean? Yes, I have a bloody problem…these”—she waves some worn, pale pink bunny slippers in my face like a furry weapon—“are the only bloody things I have that don’t have a heel. So, sorry, but this date…this day…is now cancelled.” She throws the bunnies down to emphasise her anger.

“I can only assume you don’t lose you temper that quickly in the club or you would have to be the worst Dominatrix in history.” I chuckle and step up to her, placing my finger on her lips silencing her anticipated come back. “And I happen to know you’re the best.” Sam flips from instant rage to pliant at my touch. “Nothing is going to stop this day from happening. So step away from the bunny slippers and let’s go. Don’t want to be late.” I flash my best smile, which she can’t help but reciprocate, and I take her hand. She kicks the offending slippers back into her bedroom, grabs her bag, and lets me lead her out of the flat.

I park my Audi R8 at the back of a large warehouse on the outskirts of the East End of London. The sign above the side entrance gives nothing away: The Mission.

“Wait here, I won’t be a moment.” Sam nods, her face the perfect picture of confusion. I return moments later, open her door and proudly hand her a pair of combat boots and a thick pair of socks, both items in her size. She takes the boots and, without question, swaps her designer heels for the replacements from the army surplus. I reach for her hand again, and my chest squeezes when her lips spread into a shy smile just as her fingers tighten around mine. She trusts me, there is no reservation in her eyes, no uncertainty, and I fucking love that. This is what I felt sixteen months ago, and it makes today more perfect. I just need to make sure she won’t shut down again.

I confidently lead her into the building, my eyes never leaving her face. However, practised she is at maintaining her other persona, her calm, her mask, the part of her that performs so well as Selina, she could not have prepared herself for what was going on inside the large building. Her face lit with understanding when she stopped just inside the door.

An organised army of maybe fifty people stacking blankets, loading waiting vans with boxes of food, drinks and kindness. Two larger mobile kitchens were already pulling out of the building when Sam turns to me, her jaw dropped, but she doesn’t make a sound. I’ve made her a little speechless. I slip a thick fleece lined hi-vis jacket over her slender shoulders and turn her to face me. I bite my lips together, unable to fully suppress my smile. I tug and shuffle the jacket closed and zip it up to her neck. Tipping her chin, I cover her lips with mine, the tenderness makes her gasp with shock, and my grin widens with pleasure. That is twice I’ve surprised her in the space of five minutes, impressive even by my standards.

“Shall we?” I wait for her to slowly open her eyes. She nods shyly and squeezes my hand.

“Okay, we’re going out with this team here for the breakfast run but we have to finish stocking the van. All this needs to be in there.” I point to neatly stacked supplies, which are already being loaded into the waiting van. “This is Rita and Ray.” I introduce Sam to the two helpers at the table of supplies. Rita and Ray smile, and Rita gives a little wave before grabbing an armful of blankets.

“Hi.” Sam gives a tentative smile and starts to help with the loading. I keep to her side. The loading takes no time at all, and every second of it I spend with a closely guarded eye on Sam. Despite my initial confidence, I am still taking a risk bringing her here; I know that. But I also know Daniel was right. I had to do something exceptional. I know her clients are rich and probably lavish her with expensive gifts. I know her independent nature is not to be underestimated, and I know money is not going to impress her. I needed to find the chink in her kinky armour. At the very least, I had to challenge her preconception of me enough to push her to reconsider whatwecould be.

I pull her into the back of the van, and she giggles when she loses her footing and lands in my lap. It’s such an honest sound, light and innocent. I could listen to that all day…well, that and her gasps. I’d quite like to hear those an entire day, too. I take the opportunity of her fall to wrap my arms tight around her, keeping a firm hold in place as the van pulls out of the Mission.

“You can let me go, you know. I won’t fall.” She tips her head to meet my gaze but doesn’t pull away.

“And that is why I am not going to let go. I have waited far too long, and I want you to fall.” My voice rumbles with a deep, earnest tone that makes her shiver. Her eyes hold the intensity of my gaze and reflect it back tenfold.

We spend the morning handing out blankets along the embankment, under the arches and in shop doorways. Anywhere people with nowhere to go find it secure enough or sheltered enough to rest. I carry the blankets, and Sam carries trays of warm soup, returning to the van for refills.

“You’re very quiet,” I remark on our last return journey to the van. Sam has been warm and friendly, taking extra time with those wanting to chat, and respectful of those who don’t, but she has been silent for a little while, and that troubles me.

“Just….” She hesitates, and before we reach the others I turn her to face me, lifting her chin with a single finger.

“Just?” I hold her gaze, deep eyes filled with so much turmoil.

“It feels wrong that I have enjoyed this. I mean it’s awful and tragic that in a city with so much wealth there are so many people like this, but I’ve…” She shifts uncomfortably.

“It’s not wrong. How about you try not to feel uncomfortable about helping and look at it like this… that you have rightly enjoyed spending time with me.” I tilt my head and wiggle my brows, which just makes her laugh out. I place my hand over my heart, and my mock wound. “That was supposed to be my most seductive look.” She laughs louder and slaps her hand to her mouth to quiet the noise.

“Oh, I’m sorry, but that was not seductive. Remember, I have seen you being seductive. I have been a victim of your seduction.” She waves a warning finger, which I eagerly grab. My eyes focus and narrow on her fingertip. I take it into my mouth and grip it with my teeth. She freezes, but a burst of sudden heat flashes adorably across her cheeks. I can’t hold in the deep groan that escapes from the back of my throat. I suddenly wish we were anywhere but a grimy back street in the heart of the city, and I seriously over-estimated my control if I think we can spend the rest of the day chilling to various versions of a festive Dickens classic.

We arrive back at the warehouse and join the other volunteers for a cup of tea and a mince pie. Sam blows the steam off the nuclear hot liquid. “So Jason?” Her perfectly arched brow is full of curiosity and something else, maybe confusion.

“So Sam?” I slowly sip my own drink. I share and hold the intensity of her gaze but wait for her to actually ask what is clearly concerning her if the tiny lines that now furrow her smooth forehead are any indication. I sit back and silently observe her. She is so beautiful, breathtaking really, but today, I witnessed much more. Today, I saw behind her mask. Her heart is filled with kindness and empathy, freely given without reservation or judgment. Her true nature unwittingly exposed couldn’t possibly be part of a performance when it so clearly came from her soul. She continues to hold my gaze. Her lips curl in a tender smile.

“So Jason…You do this a lot?” She leans forward and rests her chin on her steepled fingertips.

“Take a stunningly beautiful Dominatrix to a soup kitchen on a date? No, never. You are my first.” I mirror her image and lean so we are now inches from each other across the table. I notice her breath hitch a little when my arm brushes hers. Her eyes darken, and she is just about to sweep her tongue over her lips. I know this because my mouth is equally dry. Her tongue darts out, and it takes all my restraint not to grab the back of her neck and chase her tongue back into her sweet mouth with my own. I do lean in closer though, so my breath is now skimming her neck as I whisper. “I want you to be my first, Sam.”

I clear my throat the same time a tiny gasp leaves her lips. Those fucking lips. Her eyes widen when the meaning of my words settle. I am no more a virgin than she is, but if she were to switch for me, she would be the very first Domme to submit to me. It’s a heady thought, and my cock is forcing its own painful opinion on the subject, uncomfortably large in the confines of my jeans. I can see the lure of this idea is just as intoxicating to her. Desire is blazing like a raw fire in her eyes. She physically tries to check herself, straightens her back and drags her body away from my trawl. But I can sense her wavering resolve. My eyes narrow and hold her gaze. I draw in my bottom lip and drag my teeth across the flesh. Her eyes are drawn to the sensual movement only to close tight at my knowing grin.

Filled with a surge of confidence and sense of inevitability, I suck in a deep breath and choose to break the tension. “Actually, I don’t do this very often but I do volunteer at the advice centre, mostly helping with sourcing apprenticeships and some basic IT training. The Stone Foundation donates funds to several outreach projects in London, but the company encourages actual volunteering, too. This project is special…to me.” I cough to cover my error. Today is not the day for full disclosure, I doubt any day will be. She noticed my hesitation; it was hardly subtle, but I am grateful she doesn’t pry. “Volunteering’s not just for Christmas, Sam,” I tease and flash another bright smile, dispelling the momentary darkness just as quickly as it appeared.

“Oh, no, I know.” Sam flushes, strangely embarrassed. “I think this is great—” she starts to mumble.

“You could always volunteer,” I interrupt, and Sam scoffs.

“Because what these people really need are tips on being a whore.” She laughs off her joke that not only flatlines but fucking pisses me off. I snap, my volume tempered because of the surroundings, but my fury is evident in my tone.

“Don’t do that…ever!” Sam’s eyes widen with genuine shock. “Don’t disparage who you are, Sam. You would be valued, however you chose to help.” She struggles to swallow and pinches her eyes tight. When she blinks, I can see the wetness on her lashes. Fuck! I lean over and take one of her hands in both of mine. “Besides that’s not what I meant. I meant your legal knowledge would always be welcome.” Sam pushes back from the table, standing abruptly, her chair skidding loudly across the floor.

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