Waking Kiss (12 page)

Each time I spoke I had a feeling from his expression that I was saying the wrong things. I shut my mouth and stared at his profile.

“He’s a sick man now,” he said quietly. “Your father. He looks awful. I have pictures.”

I shook my head. I didn’t want to see them. No.

“He’s dying.” Liam pursed his lips. “Melanoma. I didn’t want to tell you. I don’t want you to feel sorry for him, or feel like you have to go to him.”

I thought over the repercussions of this news. A world without my father in it… This was a good thing, but still a shock. “I wouldn’t have gone to him, even if I knew,” I said to Liam. “I hate him too much. I’ll hate him forever.”

“I’m afraid if we do this thing you’re suggesting, you’ll feel that way about me someday.”

My palms felt clammy against the slick countertop. I wiped them on my knees. My father was dying. Cancer. What had Liam just said? That I’d hate him for trying to help? I couldn’t imagine it. “I won’t. I won’t ever feel that way about you, I swear to God.”

He took my hands in his and squeezed them. “I have to help you, Ash. I can’t say no to what you’re asking, but I’m afraid I’ll hurt you in this process. I won’t mean to, but I will.”

“You can’t hurt me as much as he did,” I whispered, shaking my head. “It’s not possible.”

“I hope you’re right.” He looked at me with the full force of his amber gaze. “I want to go slow and careful with this, okay? We’ll need to talk things out before we do anything. Make plans.”

Oh, please. Please let this work for me.
My father was dying. What better time to come alive again? “I’m okay with planning,” I said. “Yes. Whenever you want. Tonight?”

“If you like. If you don’t feel tired.”

I shook my head. I didn’t feel tired at all. I felt energized and hopeful, and anxious to begin. Thank God, he was going to do it.

His fingers traced the tops of mine. “I’m still not convinced it’s a good idea to bring power exchange into the equation. I mean, the power differential between you and your father worked against you before.”

I stared at his hand. I didn’t understand how we
couldn’t
bring it into the equation. He was so dominant in everything. “The thing is, when you did it with me at my place, even that little bit…” I could feel myself flushing with the embarrassment of this confession. “It turned me on more than I’d ever been turned on in my life.”

He studied me a long moment. “Okay. If it gets you hot, we’ll use it. I’ll do whatever I can to help you overcome your issues. But not tonight. Tonight, we’ll just talk.” He stood and held out his hand. “Ready, Freddy?”

I was so, so ready. I took a deep breath, reached out, and twined my fingers through his.

She held my hand like I had all the answers, like she trusted me implicitly. Some part of me was aroused by that trust. Another part of me felt like the wolf leading Red Riding Hood into the forest.

I’d never in a thousand years expected her to come seeking my assistance, not after what happened the last time we were together. At some point she’d apparently rethought matters, resulting in this humble request for help. It proved to me how desperate she was—and made it impossible to refuse her.

And I believed I could help Ashleigh Keaton enjoy sex again. I could dominate the fuck out of her if that’s what she wanted. I’d fantasized for weeks about taking her to bed and fixing her issues with my legendary sexual prowess. But that was fantasy. It all proceeded according to my imagination, which was lurid at best. Pornographic at worst. As I led her up the stairs, I felt an overpowering desire to control her, to subjugate her. I wanted to pull her hair and spank her ass until it was covered in red handprints. I wanted to torment her until she shuddered with delight, until she cried out and begged for mercy.

But that wasn’t the “fixing” she was asking for. I had to focus my attention on her sexual issues, not my over-the-top fantasies of fucking her. I had to use the D/s to make her more comfortable with sex, not to torment her. Oh God—she was turning me into one of those white-knight BDSM guys. Pretty soon I’d be wearing a goatee, carrying around a fur lined paddle and handcuffs with hearts embossed on them. Rubio would never stop mocking me. Hell, I’d never stop mocking myself.

It’s for Ashleigh. Do it for Ashleigh, just this once.

I walked her past my bedroom to the largest guest suite, which was decorated in a shade of blue-gray that matched her eyes. The Ashleigh room. From now on, that’s what it would be to me. I guided her inside and shut the door. She let go of my hand and looked around.

It was a big room for a bedroom, nearly as large as my master bedroom. There was a seating area by the window with a table and chairs, and a full bathroom to the right. The bed was king-size with a heavy iron frame, a tall spindled headboard and a slightly shorter footboard. A normal person would find the imposing black structure stylish. I found it convenient for BDSM games. I brought girls here when I felt like scening outside the play room. I never, ever let girls in my own bedroom and especially my bed.

Not even this girl.

She looked pretty today in a pink pullover and jeans, her black hair falling in waves past her shoulders. Her hands were clasped nervously in front of her. If she knew half the fantasies running through my mind she would already be down the stairs and out the door.

“Are we going to start right now?” she asked. “With the submission stuff?”

“No. Yes.” I pointed to one of the upholstered chairs by the window. “We’re going to start, but we’re going to start by talking.”

She sat down and I joined her. “This is a really beautiful room,” she said. “Everything in your house is so beautiful.”

She was the most beautiful thing in my house at the moment. I wanted to take all her clothes off and tie her to the fucking bed.
No. Not appropriate at this time.
“Thanks,” I said instead. “I’m glad you like this room and I hope you’ll feel comfortable here. It’s a private, quiet place for us to work together. Ideally, this will be a D/s space. I’ll control in here, and you’ll submit.”

She stared at the bed, and I knew she was thinking the same thing I was thinking.
When does the sex start?

I cleared my throat, determined to keep the discussion rolling. “There will be times you won’t feel comfortable in here,” I said. “That’s where the submission comes in. I’d like you to do your best to obey me in this room, even if it’s difficult. I’ll need you to be brave and trust me as much as you can.”

She opened her mouth and closed it. “I… Well… Sure. I…I trust you. I don’t think you’d do anything to hurt me.”

“Of course I wouldn’t.” I reached across the table and took her hands. “But if you ever feel confused or scared, it’s okay to let me know. D/s isn’t about toughing out the bad stuff. It’s about people enjoying themselves and doing things to please each other. In our case, I’m going to use the D/s to try to move you past your fears.”

“And what will I do for you? What will you get out of it?”

He shrugged. “I like to help people and I like to push women’s boundaries. In your case, I’ll get to do both.”

She absorbed this with the slightest twitch of her fingers. “I’ll try to do whatever you ask. Whatever it takes. I want to get better.”

“I want you to get better too.” I drew in a breath and stared down at our intertwined hands. “I can’t guarantee your issues will be worked out in a week or two.”

“So, how long do you think…?”

“I don’t know. We’ll see how things go. It’s possible this won’t work at all and you’ll have to seek professional help.”

“I’ve sought professional help,” she said with an edge of desperation.

“I know you have. But I’ve never attempted anything like this and I’m assuming you haven’t either. As much as I want to help you, I could just as easily fuck you up worse.”

We both fell silent a moment. I didn’t want to fuck her up. I leaned closer to catch her gaze. “Listen, Ash. Submission can feel threatening to the uninitiated. It can feel like something you
have
to do. I need you to remember, if things start to feel too difficult, that you always have two options. You can hold tough and stick it out, or you can leave this room and go downstairs to the living room. The living room will be our neutral zone. Our safeword, so to speak. I don’t ever want you to feel trapped or forced. I don’t want you to feel pressured to do something you don’t want to do.”

She looked at me sideways. “But—”

“I know. You’re afraid you won’t want to do anything. But if I do my job right, you will. If we’re patient and we work hard, you’ll figure out how to enjoy sex again. I have faith in you.”

“And I have faith in you,” she said soberly. “I can never explain to you how much I appreciate this.”

I opened my arms to her. “Come here and hug me before I lose my mind.”

She pushed back her chair and came to me, and I embraced her, this scared, vulnerable woman who’d insinuated herself into my life. I didn’t normally let people so close. Sexually, I did, but not emotionally. I wondered why I was doing it now.

“I think everything’s going to go fine,” I said against her ear. “I know you want to get better. Get ‘fixed,’ as you say…but there are a few things we need to discuss.”

I released her and crossed to the bureau, and opened the top drawer. I kept paper and pens in there for naughty subbies to write lines.
I will not be a bad girl. I will not be a bad girl.
I grabbed a couple sheets and a pen and returned to the table. I set them down and looked over at Ashleigh, perched nervously on the edge of her seat.

I spoke with a casual, forthright inflection. “I want to remember everything we talk about, so I’m going to take notes. No one is ever going to see them, okay?”

She blinked at me, once, twice. “Okay,” she said, but she didn’t completely sound okay.

“Come here, please. These aren’t the kind of questions I can ask you across a table.”

She’d been suspicious before. Now she knew what was coming—and she was going to balk. She was a second from bailing. I could see it in her face. “Don’t, Ash,” I said. “Don’t overreact. I just need to know what your triggers are before we start. Please power through this so I don’t inadvertently hurt you. I’ll keep it short. Just the basic things I need to know.”

The basic things.
Such a stupid way to refer to what she’d endured. I only meant I wouldn’t goad her for explicit details. I didn’t think I could deal with hearing them.

“Do we have to do this now?” she asked. “I’m kind of tired.”

“Nice try.” I looked at my watch. “You stay at the theater later than this, and I doubt you go straight to bed when you get home.” I gave her my displeased-dominant look. It was a doozy. “You just lied to my face. If you were a sub of mine, in a scene, I’d punish you. The punishments for lying are the worst.”

She paled. “I’m sorry I lied. I just don’t want to.”

I waited, watching her.

“But…okay. I’m supposed to obey you in this room.” She came to me and buried her face against my shoulder. “I already suck at this.”

I pulled her into my lap and wrapped an arm around her. “Just don’t lie to me, baby. Tell me the truth. ‘
I don’t want to. I’m afraid. I’m uncomfortable.
’ It’s uncomfortable for me too. I wish we could skip this part, but I can’t help you without knowing what you’ve been through.”

She nestled her cheek against my chest. “I know,” she said. “But I haven’t talked about this in a while.”

I held her tight and asked the first question as matter-of-factly as I could. “Did he hit you or abuse you in any way other than sexually?”

She paused a moment. “No.”

“Didn’t hit you with anything? A belt, a paddle? A whip?”

“No. He hit me a few times with his hand.”

“A spanking? On your bottom?”

“On my face. Sometimes on the side of my head when I…fought him.”

Fucker. Fucker, fucker, fucker.

No trigger implements
, I wrote.
Watch hands around her face.

“You’re doing great, Ash,” I said. “Next question. Where did he assault you? Always in your bed? On the floor? Bathroom? Any other place?”

“Just my bed. In my bedroom. He locked the door.”

Bed only
, I wrote.
Don’t lock door.

“Did he restrain you in any way? Cuffs, rope? Duct tape?”

She shook her head. “He just…” Her voice was so quiet. “He held me down with his body weight.”

Restraints okay
, I wrote. But this explained why she’d gone so crazy the two times I’d laid on top of her.

“How often?” I asked next.

She sighed. “Once or twice a week. Sometimes more. Sometimes he stayed away and I thought he’d stopped forever and then he’d come back.”

Fucker.
“Was he always on top?” I asked. “Any other positions?”

“Sometimes he did it other ways,” she said. “No matter how he did it, it always felt…smothering. He never let me move or talk or say anything. If I did, he got angry and hit me. If I was still he just did what he had to do and left.”

I closed my eyes as she related all this to me. I could see it so clearly. I didn’t want to but I did. Little, petite Ashleigh and her fat fuck of a father, pressing her down in the mattress and forcing his worthless prick inside her.

“Did it hurt?” I asked, my voice strained. “Did he hurt you when he…entered you?”

It mattered because I was pretty big, and I didn’t want to remind her of him. I wanted him to be hung like a piss ant. She shook her head against my chest. “It always hurt.”

It always hurt
, I wrote.

I rubbed her back and pressed my chin against the top of her head. “Hang in there, baby. I know this sucks for you.” As difficult as this was for me, it had to be a thousand times worse for her. I gritted my teeth and asked the next question. “Did he only assault you vaginally? Did he ever make you go down on him?”

“No.”

“Anal sex?”

“No. Sometimes he groped me there, but…”