He frowned deeply, and said, “But you’re not just my Domme, you’re my girlfriend, and I want to marry you.” He pulled out an envelope.
And handed me two plane tickets to Aruba. Dated the next day. “We could have a private ceremony on the beach.”
“You are not my boyfriend. You are my submissive. And I said no.”
He waved the tickets and ring in my face. “Do you really think I’d do all this just for a spanking? Seriously, Cerise—I love you. Not your whips and your cuffs, but you. Your mind, your soul. I fucking love you and I’m starting to think you don’t even care.”
That’s when the tears started. Tears for him, tears for me. “I’m not made of stone, Brent,” I explained. “And I do care. Really. Why else would I be with you for so long?” I cried. “But the truth is, I don’t see that kind of life with you.” The last part came out as a near whisper.
He looked at me, bewildered. “What do you mean, ‘that kind of life’? Normalcy?” he barked angrily.
“Babies, marriage, a white dress. It’s not me, and it’s not going to be my life. I never wanted that,” I said.
He approached me and looked me in the eyes. “I know you’ve been hurt. Now, I don’t know why, but I can assure you that I would never, ever hurt you.”
I shoved him away, knocking over the red wine. I scooted my feet away from the broken glass and resisted the urge to command him to clean it up. “This isn’t about me being damaged, Brent—I just know what I want. And what I don’t want,” I nearly shrieked. “How dare you question my values? Not everyone in the world wants needy little brats running around and breaking shit. I don’t need that kind of life to be happy.”
He picked the broken glass off the floor, but not before knocking the almond oil down into the already growing pool of liquid on the floor. “Then I guess you don’t need me. You just need a sub.”
I was hurt, and spoke with equal sting. “I guess so.”
And he left.
And I found other men to temporarily satisfy my needs. And he found Erin.
Then I found William.
Who rocked my world. Who shattered my preconceived notions of what my life could be. Brent just wasn’t right for me. He couldn’t see the happy medium between submissive and boyfriend. He could see only his cookie-cutter version of the future, and I’ll be damned if anyone were to decide to shape my future but myself. And if that future involved blood, well maybe I’d entertain it.
When William gets home, I think I’ll have a word with him.
He came back in the house looking slightly happier than when he left.
“William, I want to talk.”
His shoulders slumped. “I just spent the last hour trying to get over our last conversation, Cerise. I’m not ready for another letdown.”
I took his chin in my fingers. “I want to compromise.”
He tensed and averted his eyes from me. “I don’t really see how there can be a compromise.”
“Hear me out?” I asked. “If you won’t, I’ll strap you to the bed and nag in your ear until you listen.”
He laughed and pulled me down onto the couch. “Fine,” he chuckled. “Although the alternative kind of sounds like fun.”
“Listen. I can’t be someone I’m not, so don’t push me. I’ll move forward at my own pace. Maybe I am a little interested in being like you, but it’s not something I’m ready to even wrap my head around right now. As a concession, how about you move in with me?” I said, saying the words before I really thought them out. I was busted. Bizzy had already started picking out china patterns for us.