We make love. Slowly. My mouth fuses to hers, capturing every breath, every moan while my body moves intimately above her.
When she whispers in the darkness and asks me what the lesson is, I quiet her with another kiss.
My silence is answer enough.
• • •
It’s the middle of the night, dark and cool outside. When I finally get up to leave, Brielle doesn’t even stir. I slide into my car and the engine roars to life.
The entire drive home, I can’t stop the images of Brielle from playing through my mind. The way she looked spread open before me, the way her hot cunt squeezed me when she came. Goddamn, she’s as close to perfect as you can get. Of course, she doesn’t see that, which is why she hired me. Christ, I was hired to do a job, and my brain keeps fucking forgetting that. Because tonight? There was no lesson. There was only my body joining with hers in a hungry rush of raw energy and emotion.
I tighten my grip on the wheel, completely beside myself. I never forget the lesson when I’m with a woman. Never. Everything I do—every touch, every caress, every command is meant to teach. But when I found Brielle in that club tonight, pressed up against some man who wasn’t me, I lost it. I dragged her home like a fucking caveman and claimed her. It was only about her pleasure. All the wicked things I could show her body to prove to her that she was mine.
The sex isn’t just good, it’s mind blowing, earth shattering—for both of us. And I don’t know how to handle that information. My world is quite literally rocked, thrown off its axis. A client has never gotten to me this way. I can barely maintain my composure and instruct her. She owns me.
And it’s not only because she has the tightest pussy I’ve ever had. She affects me in ways I can’t even explain. Her total submission to my every whim, her complete trust and faith in me, this process…it’s staggering. Tonight I watched her chest rise and fall, felt the nervous energy zapping through her as she waited to see what I’d do next, which way I’d take her, knowing she’d allow it all. My cock hardens again just thinking about it.
The truth is I’ve started to notice little things about Brielle that I’ve never paid attention to before. Things that make her a real person and not a client, things that blur the lines of our arrangement. The way she leisurely stretches in bed after we’re intimate, the way she tiptoes to the bathroom when she has to pee, the way her laughter lights up her entire face.
As a Dom, it’s my responsibility to understand what my submissive needs. Brielle says she wants Kirby, but I know what she really needs is to be loved. To serve a man, and in turn feel that blissful pleasure that comes from a deep shared connection. Something so powerful, it’s almost sacred. I can feel the underpinnings of that connection forming between us, and it scares the shit out of me. That wouldn’t end well for either of us. I can’t provide the things she desires. I’ve tried that route before and failed miserably.
Reece has warned me about getting emotionally attached to a submissive I’m training, and I’d always balked at him. It never seemed within the realm of possibility. Yet within a few short weeks, Brielle has brought me to the brink. My stomach churns when I realize what this means. I need to cancel the remainder of her sessions. The feeling is like a dumbbell sitting on my chest.
Walking into the dark apartment, I kick the door shut behind me, turning the dead bolt. I’m in for the night, as depressing as that sounds. My roommate isn’t home, and I don’t feel like being alone right now. I don’t like the quiet stillness of the night; I still haven’t gotten used to that. Nights are when I feel the most alone. And being alone stirs up memories I’d rather not think about. That’s what my mentoring is supposed to be about—a different girl every week to keep my thoughts at bay, and occupy my time. Except there’s only Brielle. Another thing I don’t care to dwell on.
I glance around my room. A messy unmade bed, a fridge without food, though nothing appeals to me right now anyway. Maybe I should call Reece and go down to the club. Pay a visit to Chrissy. Yet that’s not the answer either.
I’m edgy. And unsatisfied.
Frustrated, I grab a bottle of beer from the fridge and sink onto the couch, my mind once again on Brielle. Even that first night as my hand rested at her lower back, guiding her, I should have seen it. The clues that I was starting to feel territorial over her. My body knew before my mind.
Taking a long swallow of beer, I close my eyes and breathe. Even if I counted tonight with Brielle as a lesson—which we both know it wasn’t—we’re only at four sessions. How in the fuck could this woman all but destroy me in four meetings, I have no clue.