Our kiss breaks. Both of us are panting for air. He strikes his thumb over the edge of his mouth, cleaning himself up. “Good girl,” he says.
Wait…shouldn’t I be saying that? To him?
Instead, my insides melt. Everything in me melts. A year’s worth of self-protective, brick walls come crumbling down into so much dust around me.
“Oh,” I whisper. “Oh, no.” My voice is shaky. All of me is shaky.
“I know,” he says. His voice is calm, and he’s so big, so strong, and I need that right now because I’m small, so small. “Come here.”
I want to.
I need to.
But I look up at him and suddenly, I see Shawn. The dark eyes. The charming grin. Those stronghands that reach out and sayyou can trust me, but hurt instead. The devil in sheep’s clothing.
Suddenly, I can’t move, think, or speak.
Shawn’s eyebrows knit. “You okay?”
“I’m…” Throat tight. Words struggling to escape. “I’m…um…sorry…I have to…where’s your bathroom?”
He points to the back of the bookstore. “Next to the owl.”
“Thanks.” I scramble to my feet and rush away for him before he can try to pull me back again. I find the bathroom cornered off next to the children’s section. The children’s section has a large mural on the wall of an owl in a tree with a lopsided rainbow sprouting from the owl’s wing. I zip into the bathroom, close the door, and brace myself on the sink. The porcelain feels cold under my fingers. I grip it tight, close my eyes, and just focus on my breaths.
In, out. In, out.
Panic runs through my like wildfire, skipping impishly through my veins.
You’re safe, I tell myself.You’re safe. Shawn’s not here.
The roaring, pounding of my heart gently starts to come down. I open my eyes. The woman in the mirror looks insane. Those softened green eyes, drunk on pleasure. Lips extra puffy, like I just used an entire bottle of hot sauce as lipstick. Hair twisted up like a sex-tornado.
My heart kicks in my chest. It’s like seeing a long-lost lover for the first time and having all those feelings come flooding back, but it’sme.
I can’t help but think:oh, there she is.
The truth is—I loved it. Every second of it. I loved being on my knees for Dorian. I loved his fingers twisted in my hair. I loved the dark, demanding growl in his voice when he sank deeper into my mouth.
So why this, now? Why the trembling panic after?
I pull myself together. I rinse my face, cleaning the sweet, stickiness that dribbled down my chin and throat. I gargle and spit. Then I drop my pants, and sit on the toilet. Gingerly, I touch myself. I’m all slippery down there, swollen. Even the lightest touch takes the breath from my lungs.
My panties are ruined. I mop them up the best I can.
I push my thumbs under my eyes to try to fix my makeup and comb my fingers through my hair. When I exit the bathroom, I find Dorian in a similar state—in disarray, desperately trying to look normal.
Our eyes meet. He gives me a small smile.
Immediately, relief floods my chest.
It’s Dorian again. Not Shawn. Just Dorian.
“All good, Boss?” he asks.
Those blue eyes. The gentle concern in his voice.
My sweet, submissive Dorian.
