His message was followed by a single black heart.
Why did that stupid emoji make my heart flip?
It’s not him. You’re not getting feelings for a bratty submissive. You’re just fluttering because you came, like, three times in a row.
This man’s dirty talk game has got you dick-matized.
Still, it wasnice. This felt nice.
Which was when it occurred to me:
I’m the domme now. We just had a scene. Our first, real scene. I needed to provide aftercare.
I rolled onto my stomach, cradled my phone to my chest, and immediately started texting.
Me:
How are you feeling?
DoriNYC:
Spent.
Me:
Emotionally.
That drew a pause from him. For a minute, I was worried that I’d pushed him too far. Maybe he was in bed, breaking down right now, and I wasn’t there to pick his pieces back up. Guilt pinched at my chest. Finally, he replied with?—
DoriNYC:
Happy.
A tingling relief swept through me. I grinned—this stupid, huge grin. Feeling bolder than ever, I sent:
Me:
I think it’s time we meet.
DoriNYC:
I was thinking the same. Just tell me when and where.
I thought about it. The Seekers’ Club was the smart choice. It was a public setting in case Dorian turned out to be a freak, but they had private rooms. We could have our own space.
But…that would mean I’d have to go back to the club. I’d have to look those people in the eyes. The people I’d hurt last winter. I’d have to explain to them that the reason I hadn’t been to the club is because I couldn’t face them, and because I didn’t know if they’d even like the woman I was now—this different version of myself.
So instead I said:
Me:
Do you know Cure? It’s a wine bar downtown.
DoriNYC:
I know it.
Me:
