Six
Consciousness slowly came back to me as the sensation of warm skin smoothed over the traumatized cheeks of my ass. Leo’s voice snuck out like a lullaby, his head leaned down close to mine as I lay wilted over his lap. The spinning slowly waned and I made out his words.
“You were so good,” he said sweetly. “Such a good girl. It’s okay. You’re okay.”
The tender sentiments shot another jolt of carnal need to my center and I squeezed my thighs together, the first sign to him that I’d regained my senses. His palm slowed its circles then slipped under my shirt to rub my lower back.
“How was that for spontaneous?” he whispered.
I let out a tiny snort as he reached to slide my panties over my hips. I moved, putting my feet on the ground. My hands gripped the edge of the chair beside his leg and as I attempted to push up, I felt my biceps tremble and fail me. Leo caught and guided me effortlessly, stabilizing my legs so he could help me dress. I cringed, feeling satin and denim pull over my tender ass. He made a little noise then carefully lowered me onto his lap.
“Are you all right? We’re done. You can relax.”
I stared at my knees, slowly coming back to earth, the clouds in my head not yet cleared. Leo’s hand, free of the gloves, stroked my cheek and turned my face to his.
“Sloane? Can you speak?”
The concern in his gaze threw me, but I nodded. He smiled wryly at my silent reply to his question and my lips curved briefly.
“I’m fine,” I whispered. “That was…a little intense.”
His mouth and eyes hardened and he drew in a weighty breath.
“What?” I asked.
One hand rubbed at his forehead as he exhaled just as heavily. “That was nothing.”
“I know that,” I said.
Worry creased his brow as he examined me, easily—familiarly running his hand up and down my back. The clouds disintegrated finally and I smiled to ease the tension I saw painting him.
“Don’t give up on me just yet,” I said. “I can be better—handle more. I just need to learn.”
His eyes sparkled and he wet his lips, changed by my thievery of his words for my own agenda. “Would you like some tea?” he asked.
Order me upstairs, tear my clothes off of me, grill me while you mar my skin with steel, punish me for my reactions to said grilling …then serve me a cup of tea? Yes, I had a lot to learn. I nodded and he tapped my arm for me to allow him up.
“Take a minute to yourself if you need one then come on downstairs. We’ll have a drink then I’ll get you home.”
I didn’t reply with more than another nod, feeling myself slip back into the spin the second his words became instructions that I so desperately wanted to follow. When he reached the door, he turned back to me with a beaming smile. “Sloane?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
Just like the first time, he thanked me—for what, I wasn’t positive. But I knew that the acknowledgment filled me with as much satisfaction as the rest. I knew I craved his gratitude as equally as his control, approval, and brutality.
***
The last swallow of my tea still warm in my throat, Leo glanced at me. I relished the silence we’d been sharing. It wasn’t uncomfortable and yet it wasn’t truly quiet. My mind hadn’t stopped chattering away since he’d walked downstairs. When would we do it again? What would it be like a third time? Was I good enough? Could he tell I enjoyed it? Did he enjoy it? Why didn’t he fuck me? And the question in block letters, lit up like a neon diner sign…what was wrong with me?
“You ready? I’ll grab your jacket,” Leo said, rising from where his arms leaned against the checkout desk. He came up behind me and held my jacket out, coaxing me to slip it on with his assistance. His hand at the small of my back led me to the door and I stood watching him as he locked it behind us.
“I could drive you, but I liked our walk the other night. I figure, as long as the weather holds out, we should enjoy the outdoors together.”
I nodded and attempted a small smile to appease him. As we walked, I felt my stomach pitch and my ears heat up. The questions still circled my mind and the chill in the air wasn’t the only reason for my pained lungs.
“You think you’re fucked up.”
My eyes shot to him and he met my stare with a challenging brow.
“You’re not,” he added, looking ahead.
“How would you know?”
Leo laughed lightly and slid a hand through his dark hair. “I guess I don’t know for sure. You could be all kinds of fucked up for all kinds of reasons. But what we do—what we did—that doesn’t make you fucked up.”
He knew I’d been thinking it. He knew I was chastising myself for every part of it. The newness I’d asked for had brought with it a sense of uncertainty. Who was I? What did this all mean? Why had I jumped in so eagerly, willingly, and without considering the consequences or the complications?
My stomach flipped. This wasn’t the first time.
“It’s perfectly normal to feel like you’re weird or sick, but you need to understand that you aren’t. Your tastes don’t have to define you any more than your hairstyle does, or what kind of car you drive, or your favorite pizza topping. It’s a preference. It suits you and that’s all that matters.”
I let his statements soak in, taking a deep breath as I began to believe them. Maybe he was right. I wasn’t unhappy, just puzzled by it all.
“How long have you been doing this?” I asked.
He shot me a side-eye and grinned. He didn’t have to say it, but I knew he was glad I’d found my voice again. “Since college,” he replied.
As I considered what Oliver had told me earlier, my lips upturned on one end. I wondered if he knew just how wild his little brother had been while he was in school. Dominating sorority girls didn’t seem like typical college guy fun.
“I have an idea,” he started. “Something to help you get a little more comfortable. And it might also be a good way for me to feel out some of your limits without having to try them first.”
“Okay…”
From the side, as we walked, I saw him wet his lips and begin to smirk. Whatever he was about to suggest amused him. I figured this whole thing amused him. The little bookshop girl chomping at the bit to be defiled. I swallowed down the self-reproach and reminded myself I was enjoying it.
“A friend of mine has parties occasionally. It’s a safe space for people to play. He’s having one in a couple days; we should go together.”
“An orgy?” I balked.
“No,” he chuckled. “Well—” He shook his head and smothered more laughter. “Only for people who want that. It’s pretty much a free for all. Anything for anyone. But no one does anything they don’t want to. For us, I was thinking we could just look…”
“You think a way to make me more comfortable is to take me to a stranger’s house to watch other people fucking? I’m good, thanks.”
The disparagement in my tone startled me. Leo halted and let his hand easily grip my elbow. It wasn’t a strong grasp but the touch straightened my shoulders a little. It amazed me how I’d already become so in tune to him. I might’ve been obedient to his touch, but outside of the bookstore, my defiance—the remnants of rebellion that spurred from escaping Warren’s hold—reared its ugly head. Looking at the smile on his face as he held me still with a light hand, I pursed my mouth contemptuously.
“Well, I didn’t take you for a brat,” he said. “But I can work with it.”
Brat? I was about to speak when he stepped into me, forcing me to look up at him from only a few inches of space between us.
“My suggestion is that we go to see, in person, the variety of things we might enjoy together so that you and I can understand each other’s tastes better since you don’t seem big on conversation.”
A sigh rushed out of me and I lowered my gaze, focusing on the waistband of his slacks. I wanted to hate the suggestion. I wanted to dismiss his idea altogether, turn my back on him and spend the next few days convincing myself that I’d had my fill of discipline—two spankings and it was out of my system for good—but I couldn’t. I wanted more. I wanted Leo. I needed to see where this new endeavor would take me. The constant struggle in my mind of whether or not I was some sick fuck or just a girl with eclectic taste was exhausting, though.
His hand cupped my chin and pulled my face up to see his. Dammit, I adored that authority he maintained over me. “I want you to see that you aren’t the only one who likes the things you’re still afraid of liking. I can’t help you with whatever’s holding you back right now…but I can help you get that spinning feeling you love,” he said. He moved even closer and spoke against my cheek. “I can make your life a carousel if you let me, Sloane.”
The ride he offered was everything I’d been dreaming of, despite how I wanted not to believe it. The only thing I needed to get a handle on was the burden I felt weigh on me every time Warren crept in my mind, reminding me that I’d been submissive long before I’d ever shared a scene with Leo. I swallowed hard and boldly took a step backward. He didn’t rule me all the time—not yet anyway. Part of me expected him to grip me harder and pull me back into place, but he let me go, his hand falling to his side as my gaze traveled up and down his body. I hugged my arms around myself, waiting for him to take a hint and say goodbye. We’d made it to my building and all I could think of was how my ass needed aloe and my mind needed sleep.
“I’ll think about it, okay?” I resolved.
I watched his full lips soften and his head nod almost unnoticeably. “Of course,” he replied. “Whatever you want.”
A cynical scoff passed my lips abruptly and my arms cinched across my chest tighter. “Whatever I want? Sure.”
“Yes, it’s up to you. It doesn’t exactly do it for me if I feel like I’ve pushed you into something you don’t want to be a part of.”
“What?” I breathed. “Isn’t that the point? You make me. You command and I obey.”
“No, no, no. I don’t mean when I’ve got a Wartenberg wheel to your neck or a fist full of your hair. I’m talking about step one. When I handed you the keys and told you to lock up then come to me…that moment was no different from this one. You chose to walk up those steps. You could’ve just as easily walked out the front door. You choose to submit. You always have your freedom. You freely place yourself under my control for a period of time. Just a second ago, you chose to pull away from me. I didn’t order you to come back because I have no right to do so…but look where you are,” he said, flicking his eyes to our feet.
I’d closed the gap between us again without even noticing. His fingers linked with mine at my side as I continued staring at the tips of our nearly touching shoes. I was drawn to him in every sense of the word.
“I have no interest in stealing your submission from you, Sloane. I won’t demand it or force it or even beg for it,” Leo said. “I intend to earn it.”
His voice cast spells on me, his touch turned my blood to fire, and one look caused me to erase all space between us. I hadn’t dropped to my knees before him, but I knew it wouldn’t be long before I completely surrendered, whether he earned it or not.
***
Staring at a nail pop in the ceiling, I let Leo’s intentions swirl through my thoughts. He’d left me at my door with a simple squeeze of my hand and nothing more. With him gone, I felt all the things I wished I’d said plaguing me. I considered his suggestion of the party. Half of me envisioned some Stanley Kubrick-esque dungeon of sin and sickness full of rich people and their playthings and the other half figured it might’ve been as simple as a backyard barbeque with a little fun on the side. I barely knew my own wants and desires, was I really ready to see others’ played out before me live and in color? Would it be inspiring? Tempting? Or would it scare me off entirely?
A breath rushed out of me as I sat up in bed and made my way to the kitchen. I reached for the corkscrew on the countertop and picked out a bottle of red. Pouring myself a glass, Leo’s parting words struck me once more. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever had a man attempt to earn any of my emotions or actions.
In all of the days I’d spent in Salem, thoughts of Warren had never bombarded me as strongly as they did now that Leo continued to inch his way into my life. Warren stole my submission. He demanded my energy. He forced my heart to weaken and eventually break. And he begged for forgiveness that I didn’t want to give time and time again. He’d never earned a thing from me. Not trust or respect—not even my love. He stole that, too.
Three years flashed behind my eyes like an intense slideshow. I cursed myself for every single step but one stuck out in my mind as the most upsetting.
I reached for my phone and found a long forgotten number. For all the wrong I’d allowed Warren to do to me and all the wrong I’d done to myself at his silent behest, the worst of all was ending a friendship. My sister wasn’t the kind of person I could even tell about Warren, let alone Leo. I loved her but she’d never been a confidant. My finger skimmed the glass screen over his name in my contacts list and with another sip of wine, I pressed on it firmly then held my breath as I listened to it ring.
“Hello?”
“Bryon?” My voice was a pitiful squeak.
I heard him sigh on the other end before he spoke. “Sloane. Hey.”
“How are you?” Again, I barely recognized the meek tone I carried as fear and doubt consumed me. How long before he’d hang up on me?
“I’m fine. You got a new number, huh? Did Sugar Daddy need to switch providers so the Mrs. wouldn’t catch on?”
The disdain in his voice cut me, but I knew I deserved it. I swallowed hard and bit down on my bottom lip for a second.
“We broke up.”
Bryon laughed darkly. “Okay, I’ll bite. Haven’t heard that in a while. It doesn’t sound like you’ve been crying so what’s it been…a couple of hours?”
“About eight and a half months,” I replied. “I moved. I’ve been living in Salem.”
Silence hung on the line then I heard him draw in a breath. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“The last time we talked you made it pretty clear you didn’t want to hear from me again.”
“Well, why are you calling me now? Is everything all right? Are you okay?”
My heart sank hearing the man I still considered to be my best friend clamor for words to ask about my safety. Tears welled in my eyes and a smile touched my mouth.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. I just—I missed hearing your voice.”
“I miss you too,” he said softly. In the background, I heard the trill of whimpering baby cries and then a light curse from Bryon. “Hang on,” he said.
I swiped a tear from my eye and gulped a little more liquid courage, hearing him call his husband’s name.
“Sorry, I’m back,” he said.
“How’s Craig? And Elizabeth?”
It had been close to a year since I’d spoken to him. Our final face-to-face argument was the first crack in my foundation—the first trauma that ultimately led me to wake up and leave Warren behind. Bryon and I had been best friends for close to fifteen years and we’d been through it all. The loss of my parents, his college boyfriend Tom’s suicide, break-ups and job changes, the whole gambit. He’d met Craig around the same time I met Warren and as their relationship progressed, jealousy turned me into an awful friend. I used words like weapons, criticizing how quickly they were moving and questioning Bryon’s feelings, even going as far as suggesting he was looking for someone to replace Tom. I turned into the world’s biggest bitch, and Bryon made no apologizes for his feelings about my relationship with Warren. Slowly, our friendship became nothing more than an ongoing feud. To me, he was masking his grief with a rebound and looking past faults for a future, and to him, I was a gold digging, naïve whore making excuses for a man who would never leave his wife.
Only one of us was right.
I spent three years denying that I had any inclination Warren was married when I first met him, but I knew. On our first date, I saw the indent on his left ring finger where a band must’ve sat for years. I noticed the way he checked his phone every thirty minutes like clockwork, shooting quick texts to someone clearly more important than me. From there it only became clearer. We never went to his place, he never called, only texted, and we rarely went out past our first few dates. Sure, he played me, but I entered the game willingly.
My stomach pitched and Leo’s words suddenly wounded me as an aftershock. My choice—my first step—my submission allowed everything with Warren to transpire much like my decisions would be the catalyst for whatever path Leo and I travelled as well. Good or bad, I had no one to blame but myself.
“They’re good. She’s getting so big, Sloane. You should see her,” Bryon replied dreamily, snapping me from my damning inner monologue. I hated knowing I’d never met the child that should’ve known me as Aunt Sloane. I broke that family bond. “What about you? You wanna tell me what happened?”
I sighed and scrubbed at my forehead. “They um…Warren and Elaina…had a baby.”
“Fuck,” Bryon breathed.
My voice broke and I choked out the twisted, angry sob I’d been smothering for weeks—ever since I saw the birth announcement online. That was the news that catapulted me into writer’s block, insomnia, and perpetual muscle tension until Leo came around and distracted me from it. Liberated me from it.
“You’d think our fights would’ve been about why he hadn’t left his wife yet, but our constant screaming match boiled down to the fact that he never wanted children. I’d sacrificed so much to be with him, I didn’t think I could give up a shot at motherhood. One day, I brought it up and he didn’t react to it the way he used to. Then he avoided the subject. Then he just became altogether distant. Eventually, I figured it out. He begged me to stay and told me he’d leave her. His reasoning, of course, wasn’t because he loved me or that he wanted a life with me…it was because he didn’t want to raise a child and if he left her he could be a weekend dad. I wanted to have his children and he wanted me to be the reason he abandoned one.”
Remembering the night in question made my stomach turn. His words that night nearly made me vomit. I was so disgusted by him, but more disgusted with myself for caring about him—for wanting him the way I did for so long and turning a blind eye to every single one of his failings as a man. He was pathetic. I was pathetic for allowing our distorted relationship to trick me into thinking what we had was true love.
“Sloane…”
I sucked in a breath and pushed Warren away with my exhale. “It’s okay. You know, I’m glad I left. I don’t miss him.” A broken laugh fell out of me. “And I saved so much fucking money while we were together that I only recently started working here in Salem. I just feel stupid. And embarrassed…and I’m really sorry.”
I’d waited so long to say that to Bryon, I felt a weight lifted the moment I uttered it. Since the day I met Warren, I deferred to him for everything in my life, including which friends to keep. Needless to say, he didn’t like me keeping company with those who didn’t approve of him, which meant I lost nearly every friend I had and somehow was able to blame it on those people, not the man turning me against everyone.
“I know,” Bryon said. “Thank you. I’m glad you’re done with him.”
“Yeah. Me too. Do you think maybe…we could start over?”
“We don’t need to start over, babe. We can pick up where we left off. Have you been watching Scandal?” Bryon’s boisterous laughter warmed my heart. The sound I’d missed deeply filled my ears and just like that, I felt my soul flickering back to life like a lightbulb that had been off for too long.