Break So Soft (Break So Soft Duet Book 2)

by Stasia Black

  She heaves out a heavy breath after saying the bastard’s name. “I have to know we can come back after what they did to us, you know? I have to know it’s possible.”

  I reach over and take her hand. “You know you can talk to me any time. Have the nightmares gotten any better?”

  She attempts a smile but it barely lifts the edges of her lips and makes it nowhere near her eyes. “Some nights I manage to sleep. Which is an improvement, as you know.”

  It’s true. When Miranda and I were together, she could rarely make it through the night in bed beside me. Usually she climbed out of bed somewhere around three a.m. and went outside to smoke. Sometimes she’d come back to bed but more often than not, she’d take her laptop and just go start working.

  “Does she make you happy?”

  “What?” I sit up straighter. “Oh, it’s not like that. We’re not— We’re just friends.”

  She arches an eyebrow. Damn that eyebrow. She always could say so much with it. “Sorry but I don’t think you’d drop everything and call me and demand I drop everything too if she was just a friend.”

  I scoff and point to the bathroom. “Daniel was in need!”

  She rolls her eyes. “You don’t give two shits about Daniel.”

  “That’s not fair. I wouldn’t have just left him locked down there.”

  “Ha! You were tempted.”

  “Nobody could ever read me like you,” I grin.

  “Oh put away that dimple, pretty boy. You already got your way.”

  “How are you, Miranda? Really?” I haven’t seen her in months and though she’s putting up a good front, she looks, I don’t know, sad underneath. She’s the only ex I’ve ever stayed friends with after a relationship—genuine friends with. Maybe because I was always more of a project to her than anything else and we were never the right fit to begin with. We moved out of each other’s lives but we still call every few months to check in. It’s been awhile though.

  “I don’t know, Jack. You ever feel like you’re just spinning in life? Your wheels are going around and around but you’re not really getting anywhere?” She looks at me and for once her shields are down. “All I ever wanted was for someone to look at me the way you look at that woman downstairs. But it just might not be in the cards for me.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  She sighs. “Where can a girl find a man who will whip the shit out of her at night but still be a gentleman in the morning?”

  I lean over and kiss her on the top of her head. “He’s out there somewhere.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Why don’t you head downstairs, Prince Charming. I’ve got Daniel.”

  I frown. “You sure? He might need help getting out of the—”

  “I’ve got it. Go. She needs you more than we do.”

  I’m not gonna stand around and argue the point. I hurry out of the bedroom and downstairs. Callie’s bent over on the couch, her head in her hands.

  “Callie.”

  Her eyes snap up at my voice. Her jaw tightens like she’s bracing for something and her eyes drop to the floor.

  “Callie, look at me.”

  She lets out a heavy breath and slowly, like it pains her, brings her eyes up to meet mine. I’m so tall she has to all but tip her head back, so I sit down on the couch beside her.

  Being this close to her is as much treat as it is torture.

  I can’t help reaching for her hand, but like so often lately, she pulls it away.

  “Don’t.” Her voice comes out thick and choked sounding.

  Jesus she’s killing me here. She’s so obviously hurting and I can’t fucking stand it.

  “Calliope.” Maybe she’ll push me away but I can’t just sit here and not hold her when I see her there looking so devastated. Please, please don’t pull away, I pray as I tug her into my arms and pull her against my chest.

  When she doesn’t resist, I can’t help pulling her closer, all but into my lap as I cradle her. “I’m so, so sorry, Callie. This is all my fault. I should never have trusted him or even introduced you. Or at least I should have warned you about him.”

  I shake my head. “I thought he was better. His probationary period at the club was over and I thought he was recovered.” I nestle my chin over her head. I don’t know how long she’ll let me hold her and I want to give her every ounce of comfort I can while she’ll let me. “I’m an idiot to have even risked exposing you to such a potentially manipulative sub. I’m so sorry. Can you ever forgive me?”

  And then, all too soon, she’s struggling to pull away. I give one last squeeze before I loosen my grasp on her. She tries to back away to the other side of the couch but I just can’t let completely go. I keep her hand in mine and she finally stops trying to pull it away even as she keeps shaking her head.

  “No, Jackson, it was my fault. Daniel was chained to the pole the whole time. I don’t know what he told you, but it was all me. I lost control. I’ve just…

  “I just…” She waves her hands like she doesn’t know how to explain it. “… lost it. I kept hitting him and then when I stopped, there was all that blood and I’ve…” Tears gather and fall down her cheeks. She looks furious that she’s crying and scrubs at her eyes, finally pulling her hand away from mine.

  But Jesus, she’s got it all so backwards. “No,” I reach for her again. “No, Callie, you’re the one who doesn’t understand.”

  She glares at me furiously. “Stop it! I was the one who was there.”

  Why is she always so damn stubborn? “Yes you were,” I say, trying to be patient, “but you were inexperienced. You trusted Daniel and he lied to you. Did he or did he not tell you that the rubber whip is a so-called ‘practice whip.’”

  She throws both her hands in the air. “Yeah. So what? He trained me how to use it. And I ignored everything and started going way too hard. That’s all on me.”

  My jaw sets and I can feel the back of my neck heating. The beast is roaring in my ears. “Rubber whips are the most intense impact implements in all of a Dominant’s arsenal. Did he tell you that? Leather ones are actually much kinder. Besides which, there was no way you should have been anywhere near a whip at this point in your training. I wouldn’t let you near a person with the gentlest flogger until you’ve had at least three hours of practice. And a whip. For Christ’s sake.” Calm the fuck down. I drag my hands through my hair.

  It takes several moments but eventually everything I’ve said seems to finally sink in. “Daniel lied to me,” she says.

  I nod. “He knew what he was doing. He targeted you on purpose because you’re a brand-new Domme. He’s pushed too far with his previous Mistresses and they’ve all dropped him for trying to top from the bottom. He’s gone outside the club before to find partners who will abuse him. The last time he did, he ended up in the hospital beaten all to hell with broken ribs and internal bleeding.”

  I cut myself off with a sharp shake of the head. “Some of us at the club had an intervention. This was a couple years ago. We thought it was rock-bottom and that he finally wised up. Then he goes and pulls this shit.” I shake my head. Jesus even thinking about what Daniel did tonight disgusts me. I’ll make sure that little shit never steps foot in the club again. “Miranda thinks it’s just a setback, but I’m done with him. He’s through at the club.”

  Callie’s gaze goes to the ceiling. The furrow between her brow deepens as she frowns and her eyes dart slightly back and forth. Whatever she’s thinking, it’s obviously upsetting. But she doesn’t say anything for long minutes. I’m trying to be patient and let her talk in her own time but patience was never one of my strong suits.

  “What are you thinking? What’s going on in that head of yours?”

  “Nothing,” she responds in little more than a monotone. “I’m not thinking anything.”

  “Don’t give me that, Calliope Cruise.” I grip her upper arms and turn her on the couch cushions so that she’s facing me. “Don’t you dare slip away from me. Not now.”

&n
bsp; She shrugs noncommittally.

  Dammit, I won’t let her do this. She’s giving up before my very eyes.

  I give her shoulders a little shake. “I’m serious.”

  She shrugs again, the barest lift and sag of her shoulders, as lifeless as a doll. “I’m tired. I want to go home.”

  She makes a move like she’s going to stand but I don’t let her go. Goddammit, I refuse for this to be the way tonight ends. For her to leave here defeated. Maybe this was all my fault, but I’ll fix it. I’ll fix it.

  “Listen, the only way a Dom/sub relationship works is if there’s complete trust between the partners. That was broken tonight.”

  As the words come out of my mouth, the solution hits me.

  Of course.

  “And I can see that I’ve gone about this all wrong. Trying to mentor you from the sidelines was never going to work. How did I expect you to be able to forge that bond with someone else you don’t even know?” What was I thinking? I was forgetting the most basic tenant of the lifestyle. It’s all about trust.

  “I don’t know your history, Callie, but from the little I do, I know it’s been shit. You need a sub you can trust completely.”

  She immediately starts shaking her head. “No way. No more subs.”

  “But there is a way.”

  I can see more denials on her lips so I barrel ahead.

  “Me. I’ll be your submissive.”

  Her head jerks my direction and her eyes go wide. “But, but you’re a…”

  I slide my hands down her arms until I’m grasping her hands, palm to palm. “For you, I’ll be whatever I need to be.” I nod, everything becoming clearer the more I talk it out. “I’ve known Doms who’ve transitioned to switch relationships before. They made it work.” I lift my head up. “I can too.”

  “But, but…” she sputters. “That’s crazy!”

  I settle against the back of the couch, not letting go of her hands. Nothing has ever felt more right. I might have made a shitload of mistakes, but this, finally, feels right.

  “I don’t think so at all.” I smile and it’s never felt so natural. “I imagine it’ll be very easy wanting to be at your beck and call. I already want to fulfill your every desire.” I wag my eyebrows at her.

  “Have you ever done that before?” She looks as surprised by the question as I am, but then she presses on. “Been someone’s sub?”

  I shake my head. “No.”

  From the beginning, I trained as a dom. I never wanted to give up control. I always wanted a space where I could exercise it safely.

  But for her…

  When she tugs at her hands again, I let them go, though not without a reluctant sigh.

  “I guess if you’re going to be my Mistress, I better start learning to let you have your way. Even if all I want is to drag you into the back of my town car, push that dress up your thighs, yank down your thong, and eat you out until you’re screaming my name.”

  She blinks at me and that gorgeous blush hits her cheeks. It’s a good ten seconds of her just staring at me open-mouthed, eyes flicking around my face like she can’t do anything but take me in.

  When she does finally speak, all she manages to get out is, “Um.”

  I’ve never grinned wider. Oh yes, this is going to be good. She’s not running. She wants it as much as I do.

  Because I do. The idea of being a submissive or switch has never ever appealed to me before. But kneeling at Callie’s feet? Worshipping her?

  Yeah, yeah that I’m definitely into.

  Callie sits there looking a little stunned but not lifeless anymore. I might even say that she looks hopeful.

  She sits up straighter on the couch. “Your proposal sounds…” she trails off before landing on, “intriguing.” She nods like she’s proud of herself for finding the right word. “Maybe we can get together sometime and talk about it more. For tonight, I think it’s time for me to go home and get some rest.” She grabs her bag and stands up, and when she does it, she stands with her head held high.

  Jesus but she’s gorgeous and amazing and resilient and— about to leave. I jump to my feet, too.

  “I’ll have my town car pick you up Saturday night? Say at six o’clock? We could catch a light dinner and then play.”

  Her nostrils flare slightly at my words and I don’t miss the swift inhale of breath. She blinks rapidly a few times and then nods tightly. “That sounds acceptable.”

  “Excellent. I’ll get you home now. We should both get as much rest as possible the next couple days.”

  Chapter Eleven

  CALLIE

  My chest is tight when the town car pulls into Jackson’s rounded driveway on Saturday evening. I can’t tell if it’s anticipation or anxiety. Probably both. Yesterday I had work and my visit with Charlie to distract me, but today was torture. Having this to look-forward-to-slash-freak-out about all day long? And now it’s here.

  My heart pumps a mile a minute when I step out onto the brick walkway and head up to the door. Before I can even press the bell, the door opens and there’s Jackson.

  Immediately my mouth goes dry. He’s shirtless, and holy shit, I’ve forgotten how built he is. His barrel chest is a golden expanse of muscles that cut sharply down in a V below his waist. And yep, ab muscles round out the whole sex god vibe he’s got going on. A worn pair of jeans sit low on his hips and my eyes linger on the light dusting of hair that trails from his navel down to—

  “You look gorgeous.” His voice comes out strained with lust and I look up, startled. I’m not the only one doing some ogling, apparently. His eyes dart up from my chest guiltily, like he’s embarrassed to have been caught staring.

  Normally it always turns me off when guys can’t stop staring at my rack, but on this occasion, Jackson gets a pass. After all, I picked this dress with the super low corset top for a reason. It laces in the front and I went ahead and laced it tight for full effect, meaning my double Ds are spilling so far out of the top, the top edges of my nipples are just barely covered. Thank God Shannon had an early date with Sunil so she didn’t see me getting ready.

  I made a stop at Miss Monroe’s Adult Toy Expo early this afternoon and bought the dress and stiletto boots. I opted not to go for the obviously latex dress and instead picked out a dark maroon velvet number with a bustier bodice and a small bustle in the back. It looks a little more like a burlesque number than a strict dominatrix getup, but somehow it felt right. It all cost a pretty penny, but I figured looking the part would give me the confidence to truly inhabit the role.

  The thought of anyone other than Jackson seeing me wear it was crazy embarrassing, but the chauffeur was extremely professional and kept his eyes averted the entire time, even when he held the door open for me. I had to fight back a smile at the thought that he’d make for a good submissive.

  Jackson swallows hard and from how intensely he’s looking into my eyes, I’m guessing it’s taking all his willpower not to glance back down at my chest. This brings a feline smile to my lips. I have no idea how tonight will go.

  Since today was Saturday, I spent a lot of it reading up on being a Domme, watching instructional videos online, basically anything and everything I could get my hands on. Despite the disaster of last night, before everything went to shit, there were some good moments. Even just having Daniel constrained and at my mercy felt amazing. But I’m not going to be caught unaware again, that’s for damn sure.

  I arch an eyebrow at Jackson. “Are you just going to stand there or are you going to let your Mistress in?”

  Jackson’s eyes widen and he swings the door open. “Of course. Christ, of course, come in.”

  I smile as I step over the threshold. Jackson Vale, flustered? Oh, tonight is going to be fun.

  My stiletto heels make a clack clack noise on the expensive tile of his entryway. Jackson’s eyes have dropped, but not in deference. He’s staring at my thigh-high boots.

  I lift my chin and it creates the effect of looking down my no
se at Jackson, in spite of the fact that he’s taller than me—even though he’s barefoot and I’m wearing four-inch heels. Speaking of, my gaze lands on his feet. What is it about a guy’s bare feet that is so sexy? Well, not any guy’s. My ex, David, had nasty feet. He never trimmed his nails and they smelled so bad when he took off his socks, it was like a family of rodents had died in the walls. So yeah, I either had him wash his feet when he got home or keep his socks on at all times. Which is, you know, less than sexy when doing the deed.

  But Jackson’s feet are sculpted and manly with neatly trimmed nails and, insofar as I can tell from standing right beside him, no problematic odors. The whole package, him shirtless and with bare feet just makes him look… approachable and vulnerable in a way that I’ve never seen him before. Usually he’s in power suits, in perfect control of everything around him.

  But tonight he’s handing those reins over to me. A sudden rush of giddiness flushes my skin.

  He seems to notice and his dark blue eyes dilate. “Dinner is ready and waiting for us.” His words seem to contradict the way he’s looking at me. He looks like what he really wants to say is fuck dinner, grab me, shove me up against the nearest wall, and completely ravish me.

  But he restrains himself. He’s keeping it all leashed inside. I tilt my head sideways at him. Will he actually be able to do this? Submit to me? My fingers squeeze reflexively into my palms. Shit. My hands are sweaty. But fuck it. No overthinking it. Stay in the moment. That was the advice from the Dommes in one of the videos I watched and I’m thinking she knew her shit.

  “Dinner sounds nice,” I say.

  Jackson nods his head. “This way.” He turns sharply as if fighting some internal battle with himself.

  I follow slowly behind him. It’s not reluctance that stays my steps. More curiosity. And again, anticipation. I bite my lip. Just how far can I push him? The question sends a somersault through my tummy. Not of fear, but a thrill. He’s offered himself up on a platter and God, I want to bring him to his knees, in all senses of the word.