“Hell!”
Tilly nodded. “Yep. I tell you what, I could barely breathe as he told me the story. Then he makes this crazy proposal to me, literally. To marry him and help him through his cancer treatments, and he’d pay me well for doing it. And if he died, I inherited everything.” She smiled. “That’s when I found out he was a multi-millionaire.”
Shayla didn’t know what to say, so she just nodded.
“Then Landry said he’d be back at the end of the hour session and walked out, leaving his slave behind.”
“How’d that go?”
“Not well. At first Cris didn’t even want to look at me.” Her face reddened and she looked back down at her glass of tea. “I screamed at him. Beat the crap out of him. Wanted to kill him. But I agreed to Landry’s crazy scheme and somewhere along the way, I fell in love with Landry.”
“How do you live with a guy who hurt you like that?”
She shrugged. “Landry told me if I said the word that he’d order Cris gone.” She snapped her fingers. “Like that.”
“Why didn’t you?”
She finally sipped her tea. “I couldn’t. He loved Landry, and Landry loved him. And deep down inside me, I still loved him, too. Like I said, I’m not proud of some of the things me and Landry put Cris through in the beginning. I did it out of pain and anger. Landry did it just because he’s a sadist, but that’s still no excuse.” She sighed. “Fortunately, I was able to forgive Cris and move on.”
“But how do you ever trust Cris?”
Tilly slowly nodded. “I don’t. Not like I used to. Not in the same ways. Forgiving him was for me, for my sanity, not for his sake. He did beg for my forgiveness. And I love him. I never stopped loving him, even through the pain.”
“I can’t reconcile that,” Shayla admitted.
Tilly put down her glass and stared at it for a few moments. “I’ll never have the same trust bond with Cris that I used to have,” she said. “Ever. Not possible. But over the past couple of years, as I’ve healed I’ve formed a new trust bond with him. During the rough times with Landry’s treatment, we learned to lean on each other. To work as a team. No, he’s not my Master. He’ll never be my Master again, unfortunately. But I love him and to be honest, once I knew the full story and calmed down and got some perspective, the slave part of me understood why he did what he did, and respected him for it.”
“I’m not trying to be disrespectful by asking this, but how can you respect a man who abandoned you like that?”
“Because yes, he did love me. He had some misconceptions, that if he revealed the truth to me about Landry, I wouldn’t respect him anymore and couldn’t deal with him being someone else’s slave. Not saying I agreed with him for doing it, but on the back side of it, I understood.”
“You didn’t know about Landry when you were with Cris the first time?”
She shook her head. “He didn’t talk about that part of his past. I knew he had a rough family history. So did I, so I could understand why he didn’t want to talk about stuff. He never lied to me about Landry. He just never told me about him.”
“How did Cris feel about you marrying Landry?”
She shrugged. “He’s Landry’s slave. He had no choice in the matter. Landry gave him two options—stay or go. And since Cris stayed, it meant he wouldn’t oppose or resent the marriage. He loves Landry, and he loves me. All he cares about is the people he loves are happy. I’m just glad he put up with me in über-bitch mode for a while until I got it out of my system.”
“That must have been hard on you, helping Landry through his treatments and dealing with Cris.”
“You have no idea. It was hard dealing with my friends, too.”
“Why?”
Loren snorted. “Most of us wanted to castrate Cris with our bare hands. When we found out he was back in her life, we thought she’d lost her mind.”
Tilly smiled. “I think it was harder on them seeing Cris come back than it was me. I took my retribution in private.” Her smile faded. “And looking back, like I said, I’m not proud of everything I did. But it’s what I needed to do to be able to put it behind me and move on. And now the three of us are happy together in our weird little way. What’s past is past. We have today and the future together, and I won’t waste it. Life’s too damn short and way too precious for that.”
“Amen,” Leah softly said as she raised her glass in a toast before taking a sip.
Shayla thought about watching Tilly scene with Landry the previous weekend. “What do you consider Landry then? Besides your husband?”
She shrugged. “Neither of them are my Master or Owner or any other term like that. I choose when I want to submit to Landry. I’d say our default mode is more of a Daddy Dominant kind of dynamic, although I don’t consider myself a little. I also don’t consider him my Dominant. I’m a switch. When I need to, I can…let go to him. But he doesn’t order me around or expect my service, if that makes sense?”
Shayla nodded.
“When I need a little more structure as a mental break, he slips into a dominant role with me. Usually in bed or in play, not as an everyday thing the way he is a Master and Owner to Cris.”
“What about Cris and you?”
Her gaze returned to her glass of iced tea. “I don’t top him. I…just can’t. I can’t bring myself to do it. Sometimes in bed I let him get toppy with me, but not as a scene. I can count on him in ways that both fulfill his need to be of service as a slave, and his need to take care of me like a Dominant might, and my need to be taken care of without bringing a D/s dynamic into it. Make sense?”
Shayla pulled her glasses off and rubbed her eyes. “Not really, no.”
Leah laughed. “Don’t worry. We’ve known them for years and it still throws the rest of us off at times. Labels don’t work with them. We don’t expect you to understand it all in one lunch.”
Clarisse snorted. “I guess I have it easy. I’m submissive to both my guys. Mac’s the switchy one, although Sully lets Mac get toppy with him on the boat. As long as I keep saying, ‘Yes, Sir,’ everything’s good.”
Leah jumped in to change the subject. Sort of. “I saw you’re coming to our shibari class on Saturday.”
“Yes. And the Whips for Fun class before that.”
“Oh! Tony teaches that.”
“That’s what he said Saturday night.”
“Busy day,” Leah said. “Will you stay for the play session later? Come to dinner with us.”
“Sure. Why not? Not like I have any other plans.”
“Watch out,” Clarisse playfully warned. “This is how we suck you in to the dark side. With rope and whips.”
“And good cookies,” Tilly added.
Chapter Eleven
They spent the day in Tarpon Springs with Clarisse, shopping and talking and even catching a late lunch before heading back to Loren’s house around four. She spent time working on her notes about the day before she grabbed a shower.
The things they’d talked about wouldn’t leave her mind. How happy each of the women seemed in their relationships. Sure, Tilly had a slightly different dynamic than the others, but she was happy. By her own admission, happier than she’d ever been in her life.
And it felt damn good to have a group of women she could open up to and not worry about them judging her for what she did by forgiving James and giving him a second chance, and then not having him prosecuted the second time.
She liked Kimberly and Suzanne, but despite knowing Kimberly was a little wilder than Suzanne, she still didn’t feel…well, totally comfortable opening up to them the way she was with these women. Shayla didn’t want anything she said to accidentally make its way around the office.
After the good day she had with Loren, Leah, Tilly, and Clarisse, she wanted more than ever to do more than just talk about BDSM.
She wanted to experience it.
After waffling about it for nearly an hour, she called Tony a little before eight o’clock and was pl
easantly surprised when he answered instead of his voice mail.
“Hello, Shayla.”
“I hope it’s not too late to call.”
“No. What’s up?”
She took a deep breath and took the plunge. “I know this is short notice, but are you available tomorrow night to get together for dinner or something and talk again?”
There was a moment of hesitation she was positive meant no, but then he surprised her. “Sure. How about someplace other than Village Inn?”
It was one of the few places she actually knew in the area. “Oh. Okay. Sure. Wherever you’d like.”
He named the restaurant and she wrote it down. When she hung up with him a few minutes later, she realized her hands were trembling.
Crap.
* * * *
She spent another restless night with sexy dreams of Tony and his green eyes running through her brain. The next morning, Bill Melling stopped by her cubicle. “How’d everything go yesterday?”
“Really good. Thank you for letting me go.”
He shrugged. “You need to be able to research.”
“I should have the first article ready by Monday.”
“Good.”
“It’s going to be a long one.”
His smile broadened. “Even better.”
She stopped by home to grab a quick shower and change before heading to the restaurant. There, she stood and fidgeted in the foyer, unable to just sit and wait. When she saw Tony’s car pull in five minutes before their meeting time, she couldn’t deny the little thump in her chest as she watched him smoothly climb out of his car and stride toward the restaurant.
He’s just a guy. He’s just a normal, everyday guy.
Who’s now haunting my dreams.
She felt heat rise in her cheeks and pressed her palms against them to try to rid herself of the embarrassing flush before he walked in.
His eyes met hers through the glass door as he reached out to push it open. Unable to help it, her gaze dropped to her feet for a moment before she looked up again. He wore a friendly smile and extended his hand.
She’d reached out to hug him, and they did the awkward hug-handshake dance before settling on a hug. “Nice to see you again,” he said. “Glad we didn’t scare you away last weekend.”
“Everyone’s been really nice. That’s why I want to make sure I write the best story possible. I don’t want anyone getting the wrong impression about what you all do. I want to make sure I’m accurate.”
He held out his arm, indicating for her to go first, and they approached the hostess stand. He held up two fingers and they were led to a booth.
Once settled, with their drink orders placed, he leaned back in his seat and smiled at her. “So what did you want to talk about tonight?”
* * * *
Tony admitted his curiosity had run overtime after her phone call the night before. Over the phone Shayla sounded more timid than ever, a woman wanting to ask something and apparently afraid to spit it out. He’d found her discomfort amusing and endearing.
Not to mention the sadist in him got a little twist out of it in the bargain.
He knew she’d spent the day before with Leah, Loren, Tilly, and Clarisse. He wouldn’t be nosy and ask what they talked about, but he couldn’t help wondering if her call to him was a result of it.
She laced her hands together in front of her on the table, her eyes trained on them. When she spoke, her voice sounded so soft he had to sit forward to hear her.
“You said you’ve trained submissives before,” she said.
He slowly nodded and folded his arms on the table in front of him. “Yes?”
“And you teach, too? I mean, I know you teach the whip class, but you teach other stuff.”
“Yes?”
“How much do you charge?”
He thought maybe he’d misheard her. “I don’t understand.”
She still wouldn’t look at him. “How much do you charge to train a submissive?”
“I don’t.”
That forced her gaze up to his before it dropped to her hands again. “But I thought you said—”
“When I train a submissive, it’s because myself and the person have reached a mutual agreement to pursue that. That’s personal, not a business transaction. I’ve never charged to train a submissive. I don’t hire myself out to do that. Now, I’ve taught private sessions on technique with rope bondage, whips, that sort of thing. But the relationship between a Dominant and their submissive is a personal one. At least, it is for me. I know there are people out there who claim to make a business out of training submissives and slaves, but I’m not one of them. What I do in my personal life is for pleasure. The only reason I even accept money for my classes is to cover expenses and time, not to make a profit.”
“Oh.” She sounded disappointed. Her hands disappeared from the table into her lap. “Okay. I’m sorry. I misunderstood you.”
He took a chance and dropped his voice. “Shayla, look at me.”
Her eyes fluttered everywhere and anywhere but where he wanted them until she finally met his gaze. He waited until her eyes were steadily focused on him and nowhere else.
“What exactly is it you’re looking for?” he asked in the same soft, even tone.
He didn’t miss the way she swallowed, the way her throat worked, the pulse point clearly visible under her flesh.
I’d love to pull her head back and nibble all the way down her neck.
He forced himself not to budge as his erection painfully sprang to life in his pants.
“I want to go through training as a submissive. To see what it’s like from that side firsthand. I…I think that’s the only way I’m going to really understand all of this for my articles.”
He let her soft words hang in the air for a moment as he tried to process what she’d said. He couldn’t move, couldn’t sit back. The urge to adjust his pants would be too great, and he suspected what she’d just said had taken every ounce of her courage. He didn’t want to make a wrong move and scare her off.
“You want me to train you?”
Her eyes flickered away, but he waited her out. Her hazel gaze eventually returned to his again. “Yes. If you’re interested,” she quickly added. “I mean, I know you’re busy and if you don’t have the time, or don’t want to, it’s okay. I understand and it won’t hurt my feelings.”
Part of him wanted to reach out and pull her into his arms. A thick layer of insecurity lay behind her walls, of that he was now certain. She’d been rejected somewhere down the line and had taken a massive hit to her self-esteem as a result. He didn’t know exactly how or why, but he’d seen it plenty of times before in others and recognized it all too well.
Of course, he knew he could be wrong, but he doubted it.
“Is this really just for your story? No other reason?”
She nodded.
“Is any of it for you personally?”
He thought at first she wasn’t going to answer him. Then she softly said, “I don’t know. Maybe.”
He allowed himself to slowly lean back in his seat, his palms flat on his thighs under the table. He studied her, noticing the way her gaze dove away from him, down and to the side again, to the dessert menu propped up at the end of the table by the window.
I’ll have to work on that first. She would have to learn to accept direct eye contact with him, to hold and maintain it no matter how uncomfortable it might feel to her.
He realized what he’d just thought and knew regardless of the outcome, he’d probably already made up his mind the other night when they were talking at the club.
He’d just never thought he’d have a chance to make some of those fantasies come true.
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll do it.”
Chapter Twelve
Shocked because of her certainty he’d say no, she looked up at him. His even, steady gaze never wavered from hers. Heat filled her cheeks again as her dreams about him came rushing back to m
ind.
In her dreams, he’d born that same intense look.
“Really?”
Instead of answering he looked away from her as the waitress returned with their drink order. “Ready to order?” she asked. “Or do you need a couple of minutes?”
He picked up his menu, which had lain unread in front of him. “Just a couple more minutes, please.”
When they were alone again, he tipped his head toward her menu. “Let’s get our orders put in and then pick up this conversation in a few minutes.”
She nodded. As she reached for her menu, she realized her hands trembled. She opted to lay it open, flat on the table in front of her, and stare down at it. She didn’t want him to see how badly his acceptance had rattled her.
Part of her truly had expected him to say no. Well, that had been the fantasy best-case scenario. Worst-case, she’d anticipated her reaction if he’d laughed in her face at the suggestion. Not that she’d honestly expected that from him, but she wanted to be prepared regardless.
After the waitress returned for their orders and left with their menus, Tony leaned forward again. “What are your expectations?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Are you looking for just an afternoon to experience stuff, or did you mean you wanted me to train you the way I normally would a submissive, or what?”
“How would you normally train a submissive?”
He smiled. “Normally, she would be my girlfriend and the process would involve lots of sex and orgasms. I would, of course, remove that option from the table for you under the circumstances. Unless you didn’t want it removed.”
Her pussy fluttered at the thought. She reached out for her water glass to take a sip and had to use two hands because they trembled so badly. “Oh,” she managed.
She couldn’t read his expression. “And I want to confirm there isn’t a boyfriend or significant other in your life who might take umbrage with this process. If there is, I need to have a sit-down with him before we do anything.”
The Denim Dom (Siren Publishing Sensations) Page 12
