Hale
A therapist would have a field day analyzing my work mentoring needy women. Yet tonight was something else entirely. What I just shared with Brielle is unlike anything I’ve done before. It wasn’t just mentoring; it was more. I lose myself when I’m with her, and it fucking terrifies me.
I scrub my hands over my face, sitting up in bed. After we had sex, I fell asleep with Brielle draped across me. As I rise from the bed, awareness burns inside me that I’ve never fallen asleep at a client’s house. Usually I can’t get out of there fast enough, wanting a hot shower and the comfort of my own bed.
Yet right now, I can still smell Brielle’s scent on my fingers, and I don’t even want to wash my damn hands. She’s marked me, and I know it isn’t something I can simply wash away. My hands, hanging limp at my sides, already miss the feel of her¸ and my mouth yearns for the taste of her. My pulse pounds in my ears as I try to figure out what this all means.
She sits up, tugging the sheet to cover her breasts. “Are you leaving?”
I nod, forcing some composure in my voice. “Get some sleep. We’ll talk soon.”
She reaches a hand toward me. “Not yet. Stay…just a little longer.”
For a moment I think she was going to ask me to stay the night, but we both know that can’t happen.
I remain still, just standing there in her darkened bedroom, trying to figure out what the fuck I’m doing. I should just leave. Grab my pants, my wallet, my keys, and go home. But I don’t. I release a heavy sigh, and when Brielle smiles and reaches out to me, I take her hand and let her pull me back into bed.
“What do you want?” I whisper.
“More.”
“You sure about that?”
“Very,” she says, her tone cheeky and her mouth tugged up in a smirk.
My hand slides between her legs, and her knees automatically fall open for me. She’s learned to embrace her sexuality, and the knowledge that I’ve been the one to lead her there…it’s very satisfying. But it’s the look in her eyes that nearly undoes me. Complete trust. Trust I don’t deserve, but she gives me—freely.
As my emotions roil inside me, I struggle to temper them. I can’t show her everything right now; I don’t want to. Instead I want to savor all of this, save some things that I can show her later so there will be new things to discover years from now. Where the fuck that thought came from, I don’t know, but it’s the honest-to-God truth.
We make love. Slowly. My mouth fuses to hers, capturing every breath, every moan while my body moves intimately above her.
When she whispers in the darkness and asks me what the lesson is, I quiet her with another kiss.
My silence is answer enough.
• • •
It’s the middle of the night, dark and cool outside. When I finally get up to leave, Brielle doesn’t even stir. I slide into my car and the engine roars to life.
The entire drive home, I can’t stop the images of Brielle from playing through my mind. The way she looked spread open before me, the way her hot cunt squeezed me when she came. Goddamn, she’s as close to perfect as you can get. Of course, she doesn’t see that, which is why she hired me. Christ, I was hired to do a job, and my brain keeps fucking forgetting that. Because tonight? There was no lesson. There was only my body joining with hers in a hungry rush of raw energy and emotion.
I tighten my grip on the wheel, completely beside myself. I never forget the lesson when I’m with a woman. Never. Everything I do—every touch, every caress, every command is meant to teach. But when I found Brielle in that club tonight, pressed up against some man who wasn’t me, I lost it. I dragged her home like a fucking caveman and claimed her. It was only about her pleasure. All the wicked things I could show her body to prove to her that she was mine.
The sex isn’t just good, it’s mind blowing, earth shattering—for both of us. And I don’t know how to handle that information. My world is quite literally rocked, thrown off its axis. A client has never gotten to me this way. I can barely maintain my composure and instruct her. She owns me.
And it’s not only because she has the tightest pussy I’ve ever had. She affects me in ways I can’t even explain. Her total submission to my every whim, her complete trust and faith in me, this process…it’s staggering. Tonight I watched her chest rise and fall, felt the nervous energy zapping through her as she waited to see what I’d do next, which way I’d take her, knowing she’d allow it all. My cock hardens again just thinking about it.
The truth is I’ve started to notice little things about Brielle that I’ve never paid attention to before. Things that make her a real person and not a client, things that blur the lines of our arrangement. The way she leisurely stretches in bed after we’re intimate, the way she tiptoes to the bathroom when she has to pee, the way her laughter lights up her entire face.
As a Dom, it’s my responsibility to understand what my submissive needs. Brielle says she wants Kirby, but I know what she really needs is to be loved. To serve a man, and in turn feel that blissful pleasure that comes from a deep shared connection. Something so powerful, it’s almost sacred. I can feel the underpinnings of that connection forming between us, and it scares the shit out of me. That wouldn’t end well for either of us. I can’t provide the things she desires. I’ve tried that route before and failed miserably.
Reece has warned me about getting emotionally attached to a submissive I’m training, and I’d always balked at him. It never seemed within the realm of possibility. Yet within a few short weeks, Brielle has brought me to the brink. My stomach churns when I realize what this means. I need to cancel the remainder of her sessions. The feeling is like a dumbbell sitting on my chest.
Walking into the dark apartment, I kick the door shut behind me, turning the dead bolt. I’m in for the night, as depressing as that sounds. My roommate isn’t home, and I don’t feel like being alone right now. I don’t like the quiet stillness of the night; I still haven’t gotten used to that. Nights are when I feel the most alone. And being alone stirs up memories I’d rather not think about. That’s what my mentoring is supposed to be about—a different girl every week to keep my thoughts at bay, and occupy my time. Except there’s only Brielle. Another thing I don’t care to dwell on.
I glance around my room. A messy unmade bed, a fridge without food, though nothing appeals to me right now anyway. Maybe I should call Reece and go down to the club. Pay a visit to Chrissy. Yet that’s not the answer either.
I’m edgy. And unsatisfied.
Frustrated, I grab a bottle of beer from the fridge and sink onto the couch, my mind once again on Brielle. Even that first night as my hand rested at her lower back, guiding her, I should have seen it. The clues that I was starting to feel territorial over her. My body knew before my mind.
Taking a long swallow of beer, I close my eyes and breathe. Even if I counted tonight with Brielle as a lesson—which we both know it wasn’t—we’re only at four sessions. How in the fuck could this woman all but destroy me in four meetings, I have no clue.
Changing my mind on the beer, I set it down and grab my phone to dial Reece. When he answers, there are voices and low music in the background.
“Cameron Hale, good to hear from you, brother.”
“Hey, man. Anything going on tonight?” He knows me well. The tone of my voice and the fact that I’m calling at two a.m. are a good indication it’s not such a good idea for me to be alone right now.
“There’s always something going on,” he says. “Why don’t you come down?”
“Yeah, I’m thinking about it. Is Chrissy there?”
“She’s here. Should I tell her to wait for you? She’s looking to scene with somebody tonight.”
“Yeah. I need to grab a shower, and I’ll be right down.”
Knowing Chrissy is waiting for me and my release is within sight, I hurriedly shower and dress. Then I’m back in my car, roaring down I-94 toward downtown Chicago and Crave within fifteen minutes.
• • •
When I think about releasing Brielle from her contract, I decide that tonight’s performance is not how I want to end things. She came to me for a reason, and she’s going to walk away from our deal with more confidence and skills than she ever had before.
One more lesson, that’s the best I can offer. I just need to get my mind back in the right place. And there’s nothing like a willing submissive ball-gagged and secured to a table to put your mind into focus.
Chrissy is wearing the signature black vintage lingerie that she prefers—silk stockings with seams running down the backs of her legs, a garter belt secured over her high-waisted black lace briefs, a push-up bra that conceals her chest, yet hints at her ample curves. Her lips are painted blood red, and they’re currently open around a black rubber ball gag. She flinches at the blunt force of the riding crop as I lash it against the back of her thighs.
“Breathe through it,” I encourage her, but my voice sounds weak, even to my ears.
Chrissy’s eyes flash on mine. We haven’t played together in weeks, not since I started seeing Brielle, and it feels strange, as if I’m rusty somehow.
She taps her fingers against the side of the table as I unbuckle the ball gag, removing it from her mouth.
“Sir?” she asks, blinking up at me.
“Yes?”
“Am I doing something wrong? Something you don’t like? I can give you anything you allow tonight, sir.” Her words are thick with suggestive undertones.
I’ve never fucked Chrissy, although I’m pretty sure Reece has. His brand of kink is more intense than mine, and based on the stories I’ve heard, often ends in hungry, crazed sex. I’m much more controlled in a scene. Or at least, I used to be. Tonight I’m just off, and I don’t know why.
“You’re doing fine. It’s me, it’s just—”
“The new girl you’ve been keeping busy with,” she offers.
My gaze meets hers again. “Yes.”
“Do you want to talk about it? It’s almost morning. We could go get breakfast at that diner you like.”
All of the adrenaline I’ve been running on for the last hour crashes, and I’m suddenly tired. And not at all into finishing the scene we’ve started. “Not tonight.”
I release her from her binds and leave the room even more confused than when I arrived.