hands on his knees, trying to catch her
breath. A silky brush of short hair against his thigh, where Mara was leaning.
So that’s how threesomes work.
Daniel had to wonder why anybody ever did it any other way.
53
Delphine Dryden
Chapter Eight
Delia pretended to fall asleep in the car on the way home. Not that it was much of a stretch. She was drowsy, and fuzzy, and had practically had to be carried out of the club.
Her ass hurt. Her thighs hurt. She felt wobbly. She felt like the real world was too shocking, too harsh on her eyes with the headlights and trees and passing street signs.
She hadn’t wanted to leave. She had never wanted to leave. That place, that room in
particular, seemed as if it had existed in a magic bubble, and by leaving the club they’d broken the bubble. The magical little pixie had vanished into the night. The man who looked like Daniel but was a Dom had faded away again. And she, Delia, had lost that astonishing sensation of being, finally and for the first time, fully and completely who she was meant to be.
“Here.”
She opened her eyes to see Daniel thrusting a travel pack of tissues at her. His car was like that, miraculously clean but he could procure any sort of useful item within seconds from one of the many scrupulously organized compartments. Tissues, pocket
knife, complete tool set, once even a carsickness bag. She had no idea where he’d
acquired it, she’d just been thankful it was there, even if she hadn’t ended up needing it.
“What are these for?”
“Because you’re crying.”
She felt her face, felt the tears, and realized she had indeed been crying. It was that sort of night. She couldn’t even say whether they were tears of elation— at last, at last! —
or of grief at having to stop.
It was clear which kind Daniel thought they were.
54
Roses and Chains
“I fucked up. I just… fuck .” He banged a fist on the steering wheel for emphasis, or to try to knock some sense into the car. They were nearly home, she noticed. The drive had seemed to last only seconds. Maybe she had fallen asleep.
“What are you talking about?” The last thing she could handle right now was
complicated emotions from Daniel, who was usually so stalwart and considerate.
She watched the muscle in his jaw pop out. He was clenching his teeth. Delia
considered reminding him that the dentist had warned him about grinding, but decided against it. They were pulling into the garage now, and Daniel yanked up the emergency brake hard enough that it seemed ready to come off in his hand.
“Daniel? What were you talking about?”
He looked at her like she’d gone nuts. “What am I talking about? Jesus, Delia.
You’re sitting there weeping and you’re asking me what…”
She started to reply then realized her lips were just flapping from habit. She had no idea what to say yet. And no energy to talk her way into whatever idea might come
along.
“Let’s go inside,” she said softly, and Daniel was out of the car and around to her
door before she could even finish opening it. He handed her out of the car like a
gentleman, supported her at the waist as if she were an invalid and walked her straight back to their bedroom.
“What are you doing?” She was bemused enough to ask with a chuckle, because he
looked so solemn and determined. Taking her coat off and draping it over the back of the armchair in the corner. Carefully removing her halter-top and skirt then arranging them neatly over the coat, which reminded her of the club. Pulling her feet out of her shoes one by one, supporting her so she didn’t topple over during the process. And
then picking her up and laying her in the bed so carefully, as if she were a piece of bone china.
“I’m taking care of you,” he explained, somewhat after the fact. “And I’m sorry,
sweetheart.”
55
Delphine Dryden
“I wasn’t crying because I was upset, Daniel. Or, well,” she corrected, “I was upset that it had
breath. A silky brush of short hair against his thigh, where Mara was leaning.
So that’s how threesomes work.
Daniel had to wonder why anybody ever did it any other way.
53
Delphine Dryden
Chapter Eight
Delia pretended to fall asleep in the car on the way home. Not that it was much of a stretch. She was drowsy, and fuzzy, and had practically had to be carried out of the club.
Her ass hurt. Her thighs hurt. She felt wobbly. She felt like the real world was too shocking, too harsh on her eyes with the headlights and trees and passing street signs.
She hadn’t wanted to leave. She had never wanted to leave. That place, that room in
particular, seemed as if it had existed in a magic bubble, and by leaving the club they’d broken the bubble. The magical little pixie had vanished into the night. The man who looked like Daniel but was a Dom had faded away again. And she, Delia, had lost that astonishing sensation of being, finally and for the first time, fully and completely who she was meant to be.
“Here.”
She opened her eyes to see Daniel thrusting a travel pack of tissues at her. His car was like that, miraculously clean but he could procure any sort of useful item within seconds from one of the many scrupulously organized compartments. Tissues, pocket
knife, complete tool set, once even a carsickness bag. She had no idea where he’d
acquired it, she’d just been thankful it was there, even if she hadn’t ended up needing it.
“What are these for?”
“Because you’re crying.”
She felt her face, felt the tears, and realized she had indeed been crying. It was that sort of night. She couldn’t even say whether they were tears of elation— at last, at last! —
or of grief at having to stop.
It was clear which kind Daniel thought they were.
54
Roses and Chains
“I fucked up. I just… fuck .” He banged a fist on the steering wheel for emphasis, or to try to knock some sense into the car. They were nearly home, she noticed. The drive had seemed to last only seconds. Maybe she had fallen asleep.
“What are you talking about?” The last thing she could handle right now was
complicated emotions from Daniel, who was usually so stalwart and considerate.
She watched the muscle in his jaw pop out. He was clenching his teeth. Delia
considered reminding him that the dentist had warned him about grinding, but decided against it. They were pulling into the garage now, and Daniel yanked up the emergency brake hard enough that it seemed ready to come off in his hand.
“Daniel? What were you talking about?”
He looked at her like she’d gone nuts. “What am I talking about? Jesus, Delia.
You’re sitting there weeping and you’re asking me what…”
She started to reply then realized her lips were just flapping from habit. She had no idea what to say yet. And no energy to talk her way into whatever idea might come
along.
“Let’s go inside,” she said softly, and Daniel was out of the car and around to her
door before she could even finish opening it. He handed her out of the car like a
gentleman, supported her at the waist as if she were an invalid and walked her straight back to their bedroom.
“What are you doing?” She was bemused enough to ask with a chuckle, because he
looked so solemn and determined. Taking her coat off and draping it over the back of the armchair in the corner. Carefully removing her halter-top and skirt then arranging them neatly over the coat, which reminded her of the club. Pulling her feet out of her shoes one by one, supporting her so she didn’t topple over during the process. And
then picking her up and laying her in the bed so carefully, as if she were a piece of bone china.
“I’m taking care of you,” he explained, somewhat after the fact. “And I’m sorry,
sweetheart.”
55
Delphine Dryden
“I wasn’t crying because I was upset, Daniel. Or, well,” she corrected, “I was upset that it had
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