Page 7 of Becoming His

I raise my eyebrows. “I don’t think that’s an appropriate first date question either.”

“Who says this is a date?” he purrs, his arm snaking out to pull me closer. Our wet, naked bodies slip against each other as if to prove his point. He pushes a strand of wet hair out of my face and grins down at me. “It’s a question I want answered, regardless.”

“Yes, I think I do,” I tell him honestly. I haven’t given kids much thought. Not since my naive fairytales of love were shattered.

A grumble of approval echoes around us, and his hand cups my ass. “Now tell me about the boyfriend.”

My nails dig into his arm. I guess it is pretty obvious that my only partner outside of the escort company would be from a romantic relationship. I exhale to control the shaking in my voice as I speak. “We were kids. Dumb and doing shit we didn’t comprehend. He… he was the example you give to girls of what tonotlook for in a dom. He rarely respected my boundaries.”

Aiden’s hold tightens. “What happened, Brina?”

I touch my throat and remember the ache of the past. “He liked to fuck my mouth. Like to push in deep till he cut off my air.” Licking my lips, I don’t notice I’m trembling till Aiden wraps me in his arms completely.

“One night, he did it so long I passed out. He came anyway, it triggered my gag reflex, and I aspirated on a mixture of his cum and vomit,” I admit, almost whispering by the end. I thought about that night a lot and how wary it made me to relinquish control for a long time, though I craved it.

I wipe away the tears burning down my cheeks, knowing Aiden won’t be able to differentiate between them and the droplets of water from the shower. I laugh humorlessly. “It was actually his brother that rolled me over onto my side and called 911. My stupid boyfriend found it funny and couldn’t wait to do it again.”

“Tell me that fucker is in jail or dead,” Aiden demands.

Shrugging, I turn to face the water again, and he pulls me against his chest.

“I don’t know. I was sixteen, and he was eighteen. My parents cut off all communication,” I say. I want to smile at how mad I was at them for that moment. Years later, I can fully appreciate how they probably saved my life. My ex would have kept testing how far he could push me till he eventually killed me.

Aiden says nothing else as we finish our shower, and he slowly dries me and then himself off. He hands me my clothes and leaves to give me privacy to put them on in the bathroom.

As soon as I step into the bedroom, I’m not surprised to find it empty. But there is a tinge of disappointment. With a sigh, I flop onto the chair and slip on my shoes, each ache in my pussy and brush of my sore nipples bringing a smile to my face.

Brina

Iopenthebrownbox, smiling at the red dust bag as I pull the shoes out. It’s been a week since the night with Aiden, and the money cleared my account the next morning. I had waited a few days, expecting him to schedule another day after since we didn’t fuck. But the communication never came, only the year long contract couriered over.

So today, I stopped waiting, especially considering it was becoming a pattern for him to disappear for stretches of time. I went straight to Madison Ave when I woke up and could barely contain myself to only buy a singular pair, but it was tradition.

One new client, one new pair of Louboutins. My favorite style is the Daffodile heel. I own multiple pairs in black, red and one bejeweled Strass. It was the only type of heel I wore, especially out with clients. Otherwise, the other shoes that donned my feet were my Converse and my UGG slippers in winter.

“Wow. Red-bottoms. That’s cool, I’ve always liked them,” Melody’s soft voice floats in from behind. She moves into the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water. She reminds me of a scared little mouse, a little too-sweet for this type of life.

I squint my eyes. “But?”

She turns to face me. “But?”

“It sounded like you had more to say.” I remove my black pumps from the box, smiling at the smell of the leather.

“Oh. Uhm– no,” Melody bites her lip, and then she shakes her head. Her dark hair swings in her high ponytail. “I was just thinking about something my old boss had said.”

“The family that booted you?”

“Yeah, them,” she admits, sadness dripping in her tone.

I raise an eyebrow. “Well? What did the snobby brats have to say?”

Her lips twitch as she blinks at me. “Uhm. She said it was a whore’s shoe.”

I give her a stiff smile and then sit on the stool, slipping one heel onto my foot. “How right she was, but I would rather be a whore than a trophy wife. Her husband would probably hire one of us before taking her to bed.”

Melody’s chuckle is humorless, and I slip on the other shoe and stand. I twist and peer down at them. I fucking love new heels. Then I pause, remembering why she got axed from her nanny job.

“Wait, did you actually sleep with the husband?”

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