Instead of Ash, I found Andrea asleep beside me, curled up on her side. When she opened her eyes, I gave her a raspy, “Hey.”
She smiled. “Hey yourself.”
“Did Ash…”
“Leave?” She lifted a fair eyebrow in my direction. “Yeah. When I got home, he met me in the hallway to explain what happened. I took over nursing duty.”
I groaned and even though my mouth was dry, the thought of putting anything in my stomach made me want to puke.
“So… tequila shots?” Andrea asked. “Doesn’t really sound like you. At least not the you from recent years.”
“I’m an idiot,” I groaned.
“Yeah,” Andrea scooted closer and draped her arm over my stomach. “But you’re my idiot.” She paused. “I’ve been busy working, but you never told me what went wrong between you and Ash. Only that it didn’t last.”
She didn’t outright ask. Andrea was good at that. Skilled at the slow prod and getting people to open up without even realizing that she had coaxed it out of them.
I turned my head to look at her. “His lifestyle just isn’t meant for me.”
Her face twisted, expression souring. “Did he hurt you? Like… for real hurt you? Not just playtime scenes and stuff.”
“Not intentionally. He just got… carried away.”
She licked her lips and wiped at her eye. Mascara smeared below her lashline—on me that would have looked greasy, but on Andrea, she looked gorgeous and smoky-eyed, with bedhead like she was in an ad for luxury sleepwear. “Doms are supposed to be in the utmost control. They aren’t supposed to get carried away.”
“I asked him to show me his worst,” I blurted out, defending Ash. My face heated in embarrassment. God, I was stupid. And that was the reason I wasn’t mad at him. And the main difference between him and my dad. To my knowledge, my mom never asked my dad to hit her. She never begged for it, or bent over a bench anticipating it. She never looked him in the eyes and asked him to show her how rough it can get. But I had.
It didn’t mean I wanted that life for myself. But it did mean that I wouldn’t hold it against him.
Andrea studied me harder. “So… you asked him to show you how dark and rough it can get, then blamed him when you didn’t like it?”
“It’s not that simple,” I groaned. “And I’m not blaming him. I’m not mad at him.” Anymore.
“Babe, I am on your side. Always. But for the first time since high school, you’re not being forthright with information and that has me nervous considering the last time you kept shit from me, it was because your mom was telling you that you were fat and you were locking yourself in the bathroom while you shoved your finger down your throat.”
I winced. “This isn’t like that. I just got scared that night. And I-I didn’t like it really rough.”
Andrea paused for a beat. “Or maybe you were liking it too much and that was scary?”
Damn, she knew me too well. She wasn’t wrong. At least until I got stabbed with a safety pin. It both was Ash’s fault and also wasn’t. “He also has a thing about food. He wants women to eat and he wants to know what they’re eating.”
Andrea’s silence said more than any words.
“What? What are you thinking?” I rolled onto my side, facing Andrea. We were nose to nose now, each on our sides.
She scrunched her nose. “I’m thinking you have dragon breath.”
“I’m serious!”
“So am I,” she said, laughing.
I rolled my eyes and forced myself to sit up in bed and have a sip of water. The cool liquid hit my stomach and I paused, fearing the worst. Miraculously, I kept it down and drank some more, feeling better with each sip.
“Okay,” Andrea said. “Seriously though… most Dominants have diet and food in their contracts. It’s odd, but it’s pretty typical of the lifestyle.”
“Well it’s fucked up and I hate it.”
“You have every right to hate it. The lifestyle isn’t for everyone. The question is, with your history—”
I sighed. “You mean my eating disorder.”
She nodded. “Yes. With your history and your past eating disorder, is that going to trigger you or spiral you back into unhealthy habits?”
I shook my head. “No. Of course not. I haven’t made myself throw-up in years.”
“There are other ways eating disorders can surface, Luce.” Andrea gave me a weak smile.
“I know that, but—”
“But… you did drink on an empty stomach last night.”
“Which I wouldn’t have done if he hadn’t made a point of asking me to eat my dinner.”
Andrea took a deep breath. “Close your eyes for a moment.” I rolled them before I fluttered my eyes shut. “Imagine you and Ash were a couple. Truly BDSM partners. Imagine he had asked you to eat your cheeseburger—or at least finish half of it before you did your shots.”
“It’s not his place—”
“We’re imagining, Lucy. Imagine for a second that your mom had never lorded over food. That she had never made you weigh in daily. Imagine that your dad had never been abusive. You enjoy the other kink stuff. And Ash asking you to eat your meal didn’t come from a place of wanting you to be skinny, but from a place of wanting to make sure you didn’t end up like you are this morning. He wasn’t telling you not to drink. He wasn’t hindering your fun. He simply asked you to finish dinner first and maybe he instructed you to drink water throughout the night.” She paused and I clenched my jaw. “Is that really so bad?”
Emotion was clogging my throat. It didn’t sound bad when she worded it like that. But it felt bad. My reaction to it felt loaded, and made anxiety rise in my throat. “My mom didn’t watch what I ate so that I would be skinny either. She did it out of love. And fear. And she wanted me to be healthy.”
“I know,” Andrea said. “Take that same scenario as last night… and pretend it was me in Ash’s place. Pretend I was the one telling you to eat your burger—”
“It was chicken fingers,” I corrected her. It was a stupid thing to correct, but it was all I had on her and we both knew it.
“Fine. Pretend I was telling you to eat your chicken fingers. I was the one telling you to drink water. Because I care about you. Because I don’t want you to feel sick. And mainly because now our bathroom smells like a truck stop and I know I’m going to be the one to scrub that shit today.”
I laughed at that, feeling my chest bounce. But the laughing made another wave of nausea take hold of me and I groaned, placing my palm to my forehead. She wasn’t wrong…Andrea made sure I ate well when drinking all the time. And I would do the same to her when we were out partying.
“And furthermore…”
“Okay, Andrea, I get it.”
“No wait! I’m on a roll! Because for that matter, doesn’t Rich do the same thing? Make sure you’re eating well? He buys you gift cards to restaurants in the area and sends over his famous baked ziti? You’re not triggered by him making sure you’re eating, right?”
I snorted. “Oh, please. Uncle Rich’s baked ziti isn’t that good.”
“Um, now I know you’re lying. I’ve watched you eat half a casserole dish of that baked ziti.”
I rolled my eyes. “I get it. Sometimes it’s not about control. Sometimes it’s about care.”
“For Dominants, it’s about both. Control, safety, and care. At least it is for the good ones. And I think at his core, Ash is a good one.”
My throat burned. “I think so, too. But it doesn’t mean he’s good for me.”
Andrea nodded thoughtfully. “Well, that’s true too. I guess you have some thinking to do.”
I set the water glass down and tossed the covers aside. I had to pee something fierce. As I stood to my feet, my stomach roiled. Oh, God. I was going to blow again.
I rushed for the bathroom, making it just in time.
After a shower and brushing my teeth—Andrea was right, I did have dragon breath—I felt slightly more hu
man. And as I made my way down the hall into our little kitchen, a gift basket caught my eye.
I swallowed, moving carefully toward it. Inside, there was a gift card to Verizon to fix my phone screen, and DVDs of Meet Me in St. Louis and Cabaret. Also rolled up inside were pajama pants with manatees on them, a white t-shirt—the same exact size and type that I wear every day. And a box of fruit loops, a cup of Greek yogurt and a banana.
Andrea looked over my shoulder, resting her chin on my arm. From the bottom of the basket, she pulled out a manatee keychain. On the belly, I recognized Ash’s handwriting and he had scrolled the name: Scarlett.
Andrea held it out for me. “You told him about Scarlett the manatee and your plans for a Florida home in the middle of the ocean?”
I nodded, rolling the keychain over in my hands.
Andrea grabbed the fruit loops, pouring us each a bowl. “You pop the movie in. I’ll make breakfast. Looks like we’ve got some films to catch up on.”
I groaned. “Don’t you have to finish the costumes for Monday’s meeting?”
“I’m almost done. I just have one more dress to alter and I can do that tomorrow. Now, go. Go put on your new jammies.”
I wasn’t sure how this basket changed anything. In some ways, it didn’t. And in other ways, it changed everything. I texted Ash to thank him, then shut my phone off. I needed time to think. Time with Andrea. Time with Judy. And time with Scarlett.
I wasn’t ready to give up on Ash yet. I wasn’t positive we were meant for each other, but maybe I’d been hasty ending things. Fear is a powerful motivator and even though I had asked Ash to show me his more brutal Dominant side, it was terrifying. I needed to know how often he needed that sort of release… if ever. Was that his kink? The more violent side of himself?
The rest of my afternoon was a blur of pounding headaches and sprints to the bathroom before I hurled. Note to self: Latina heritage doesn’t mean I automatically can handle my tequila.
By one o’clock, I had fallen into a deep sleep and when I woke up around five, I finally felt human again.
I turned my phone back on, playing some podcasts and scrubbed the bathroom so that poor Andrea wouldn’t have to. Then, I cooked myself some ramen, and as I was about to begrudgingly put on Cabaret, my phone beeped with a text from Ash.
How are you feeling?
I smiled, relishing the warmth that spiraled inside of me at seeing his name light up my phone.
Much better, I texted back.
How much better? He pressed.
A wicked smile curved my lips and my thumbs flew across my screen as I responded. Why don’t you come over so I can show you how much better?
There was a pause and for a moment, I thought I had scared him off. Maybe that gift basket hadn’t meant what I thought it had?
I had almost given up on him, when my phone pinged with another text.
Look outside your window.
I ran to the kitchen, throwing open the blinds and found Ash’s Porshe sitting out front, the engine idling.
Chapter Twenty-One
Ash
I wasn’t sure what I was doing here in the car with Lucy. What did I expect to get from this? She still wasn’t ready for this. Wasn’t ready for me. Nothing had changed since Monday night.
And yet, last night, everything had changed.
We both knew it. Even though we hadn’t talked about it. Fuck, was that weird? Should we talk about it? I was never good at talking. Not even with Brie. Sitting down and sharing feelings was just about my worst fucking nightmare. And luckily it was Brie’s worst nightmare, too. Growing up as a pastor’s daughter, she’d had enough of share circles in her childhood.
After driving for a few minutes, I asked her, “Where should we go?”
She glanced at me briefly. “How about you show me upstairs of LnS?”
I snapped my gaze to her, then quickly looked back to the road, shaking my head. “You’re not ready for that. Especially not after last night.”
I expected her to get angry… but she didn’t. She looked at me calmly and asked, “Did you submit my contract to them?”
“Yes, but—”
“And they approved me?”
“Yes. But you spent all evening puking. I don’t think tonight is—”
“Ash. Look at me.”
As I pulled up to a red light and coasted to a stop, I dared a glance in her direction. Her cheeks were flushed pink. Her mouth wet, eyes shrewd and piercing. She lifted her brows. “I feel great. I ate an early dinner and I’ve kept all my meals down since one o’clock. I’m ready for this.”
But was I ready for this? I expelled a breath as the light turned green and eased onto the gas pedal. “Okay, then. But we are taking it easy.”
“Hey,” she said, “you’re the boss.”
I shot another quick glance at her. “Am I?” I wasn’t so sure anymore and the thought strangely brought a smile to my lips.
“Just drive, smartass.”
Most of the trip was quiet and I could feel each of us deep in thought. I slid my gaze to her quickly while I slowed at a red light. She was chewing her bottom lip, playing with her cuticles. She looked like she had something to say.
“What is it, Lucy?” I asked.
She lifted her eyes to mine, black lashes long and nearly hitting the lenses of her eyeglasses with each blink. “Your—your wife. How did she…”
My grip on the steering wheel went tighter and I jerked my gaze back to the taillights stopped in front of us. “I don’t want to talk about how she—how she did it.”
I could hear the rustling sound of Lucy’s nod. “I understand. But last night, you also said that you felt responsible. That if you had been a better Dom…” her voice faded. “I just, I’m curious what you mean. What being a Dom had to do with it. Because in my limited experience, mental illness isn’t anyone’s fault. I hate to think you’re blaming yourself—”
I couldn’t stand to hear another speech that Brie’s death wasn’t my fault. None of them knew. None of them knew her—knew us—like I did. I may not have been the one to actually take her life, but I could have stopped it. I could have prevented it if I had been paying attention.
“A Dominant’s number one job is to ensure the safety of his sub. A husband’s number one job is to care for and provide for his wife. I failed on both those accounts.” The light turned green and before I eased onto the gas, I snuck another glance at Lucy. She swallowed, her gaze firmly set on me, and the muscles of her throat tight. “I got busy with work. And because I was busy and exhausted after long days filming, I didn’t see the signs. I missed her cries for help. I should have been paying closer attention to my wife. My sub. My partner. I could have stopped it. I should have stopped it, but I failed her. She died because of me.”
It was quiet for a long moment before Lucy spoke again. “Ash—”
“Just… don’t,” I whispered. “Anything you’re going to tell me, I’ve already heard from Jude. From Neil. From my parents. So just… don’t.”
“Okay. I won’t… I won’t tell you it’s not your fault.” The implication still dangled there between us; her unspoken words that said but it’s not your fault. Lucy didn’t understand. She didn’t truly know the lifestyle fully herself yet… so how could she? “I need to ask though… does this have anything to do with your food issues?”
My jaw clenched. I hated talking about this. I hated thinking about it. Reliving it. “Yes,” I answered, my voice so low, I wasn’t sure she even heard me until I heard her answer.
“Okay,” she whispered, and I breathed a heavy sigh of relief that she was letting it drop.
“I’m trying so hard to open up, but—”
“I know,” Lucy said. “I don’t want to cause more pain, but if we’re moving forward, I need to know you. Or at least try to understand where you’re coming from.”
I reached across, gently lacing my fingers into hers and tugged her knuckles to my lips. “You’re not causing
me any pain, Lucy Rodriguez.” I wanted to share things with her… I just didn’t know if I was capable of it. It’d been so long since I’d talked to anyone about Brie, I didn’t really know how to do it anymore.
I took a right turn into the LnS parking lot.
“How do you want to go inside?” I asked. “Through the front and get the real experience? Or quietly through the backdoor?”
Her eyebrow arched impressively. “Is that a euphemism? Because while I’m not opposed to a little back door action, I’m curious about the full LnS experience.”
I jerked my head back, shaking clear the cobwebs. “Wait… you’re not opposed to—?”
“I might be inexperienced with BDSM. But I’m not inexperienced.”
Well, holy shit. If I could have scooped her up and charged for my quarters upstairs without making a scene, I would have.
Instead, I took a deep breath, helped Lucy out of the passenger seat, and lead her into the front door. The bar and dance floor were both nearly empty as we made our way to the back hallway where Pete was waiting.
At the base of the stairs, Pete stood with an iPad in hand. He gave me a nod and smiled warmly to Lucy, holding out the small microphone and screen to me. I leaned in and said, “My voice is my password,” into the microphone as Pete punched something into the iPad.
Then, I gestured at Lucy. “This is Luciana Rodriguez. You should have her contract on file.”
Pete nodded, swiping his finger across the screen. “Yes, it is on file. I just need your ID, ma’am.” He looked to Lucy, who had her wallet unzipped and handed him her driver’s license.
After another minute, I was leading her down the hallway, hardly giving her a chance to look around. I just wanted her in my room. In my bed. Where I could claim her as my own.
“It’s so dark in here,” she whispered, slowing down to run her hand across the dark slate walls, dimly lit with sconces and candles.
Yes, I wanted her in my bed. But she also wanted to look around. To acclimate. What asshole would I be if I rushed her through these halls?
Role Play (Silhouette Studios) Page 28
