I’m safe again.
I exhale a deep breath, coming back into my body.
“All good,” I confirm with a thumbs up. “But we should catch up with the crew. They’re probably wondering where we are.”
“Right.”
We’re both quiet for a minute after that, sinking into the weight of our silence. I’m so aware of everything around me suddenly. The bookstore. The dents in my knees. The tangles in my hair.
Maybe neither of us are completely done with the people we once were.
“I see a taxi,” Dorian says suddenly. He runs out the door, hand lifted. Dorian gives a sharp whistle—that charming, weird little quirk of his—and the cabbie pulls to a stop.
I exhale a small breath. Whateverthiswas…it’s time to rejoin the world.
I exit the bookstore and the cold blast of air wakes me the fuck up.
11
FUCK
Dorian.Now.
Fuck.
Fuck. Shitty—fuck, fuck,FUCK.
Outside, I am smooth as glass, composed in the backseat of the taxi cab, watching the red and green and gold lights of New York City slide across the window pane.
Inside, a brass band of self-hatred is dancing on top of my fucking gravestone.
Here Lies Dorian Lennon. That Fucking Idiot Who Did The Thing He Swore He’d Never Do Again. Rest in Pieces, You Piece of?—
“That’s the ugliest owl I’ve ever seen in my life,” Dove says.
I blink out of my spiral. “What is?”
“In your bookstore. The owl on the wall.”
“Ah. That. I got drunk one night and thought I was Picasso. It turnsout I’m just…”
“Pi-can’t-o?”
A light chuckle leaves me. “Yes. Exactly.”
She’s trying to fill in the quiet that’s settled in between us. We’re both trying to shake off the fact that something haschangedbetween us. The silence is punctuated only by the irritating video screen that informs us of the weather, today’s lottery numbers, and invites us to play Tic-Tac-Toe while we ride.
I hate these pre-programmed videos, but I find myself watching it anyway because I can’t look at her. I can barely stand the glimpse of her out of the corner of my vision. Because now, when I look at her, I can only see those swollen lips wrapped around my cock.
What non-kink people don’t understand is thatdominanceand submission and these power games we play is more than arousal.
When I saw Dove on her knees, with that sub-space, dreamy look in her eyes, it unlocked something in me.
Yes, my dick got harder.
Yes, my heart swelled in my chest.
But it’s more.Morethan that. Because the dominant side of me—that part I’ve kept flattened down at the bottom of my soul like a very, very neatly organized travel bag—suddenly sprang back to life, Jack-in-the-box style.
