Page 37 of Claim

“Why does it matter?” She pulled back, her dark eyes turning cold. “People believe what they want to believe. I stopped trying to fit in a long time ago. Now I say and do whatever the fuck I want.”

“Do you really, or are you playing into the role given to you?”

“Why don’t you answer the same question, Mr. Pierce? Then we will proceed with the discussion.” She held my stare as if daring me to push further.

Here we were, back to the push and pull of only a moment earlier.

Then I saw it on her face, the knowledge. She knew about the rumors, about what people said about me. Something clenched in my chest when at the same time I realized she didn’t believe any of it. Not once had I spoken of it or given her any context, but she questioned the validity of the things said about me based on her experience.

I was all wrong for her, and she kept tugging at parts of me that wanted to keep her, possess her. And the fact she was one of my closest friend’s sisters mattered not one tiny bit.

“Ask the question you actually want to be answered.”

“Why do you let people believe you killed her?”

“Because I drove her to it.”

She gasped in a sharp breath. “She took her own life?”

I nodded.

“Then you didn’t kill her.”

“Wrong.” I kept my emotions locked away as I conveyed the next part. “My way with my submissives led them to give me every part of themselves, body, mind, and soul. And even though I care about them, I can never love them the same way they do me. And in the end, when she realized I could never offer her what she desired most, she refused to accept it.”

“You believe her weakness is a reflection of yours?”

“Isn’t it?”

“Were you honest with her?”

“Yes. I told her I could never offer her love in the traditional sense.”

“Then you can’t carry the guilt for her not accepting.”

“It doesn’t work that way. I didn’t see the signs of her depression or her withdrawal. My responsibility was to take care of her and provide for her needs.”

“You can’t make yourself feel something you don’t.”

“I hope you remember this when I inevitably hurt you.”

“You’re warning me away based on a past experience. I’m not her. I don’t want what she wanted. I like what I feel when I’m with you, but I’m not looking for forever. My safe word wouldn’t be marriage if I was looking for the happily ever after and the white picket fence.”

“Why did you come to the club in the first place? What drives this need to explore your submissive side?”

She furrowed her brows, and as she parted her lips to argue, I grasped her throat in a firm hold. Immediately her pupils dilated, swallowing her irises as her breathing grew ragged.

“You’re submissive, My Sophia. Not a top, not a switch, and not a Domme.” I bit her lower lip hard enough to sting without drawing blood. “No matter how much you deny it, we both know the truth of it. Everyone in that playroom tonight knows the truth of it. You will admit it before our time is up. I guarantee it.”

“Good luck with that objective,” she murmured against my mouth. “No one can force me to do anything.”

I grabbed her wrist, pinning them against the hollow of her back. “Submission isn’t about force. It’s about what you allow. You hold the power. If anyone takes without consent, they aren’t worth your time.”

“Is this the consensus for all the men in the club or just you? We know this isn’t how things work outside of these walls.”

The last part of her statement made me wonder if she was making a generalized observation or if she’d experienced something unsavory.

“I can only speak for myself, but it is the basis for power exchange.”

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