and I can tell she’s trying to wrap her head
around not just my tastes, but her own reaction earlier
tonight.
“It’s not weird at all,” I say calmly. “Sex
is about trust, intimacy. And giving up power to someone—or taking
control of that power—is a natural extension of that trust. Our
sexuality is more interesting and complex than we often give it
credit for,” I add. “Why settle for something boring and rote, when
you can discover who you really are?”
She toys with her beer for a second,
thinking hard.
“It surprised me,” she admits. “Feeling the
way I do. Not just tonight, but when Brent took me to the club. I
was curious, I felt excited. At least, before…” she stops, then
shakes her head, as if shaking the memory away. “I never expected
to feel this way. Sex was never…” she stops again.
“Never what you needed,” I finish for
her.
She nods, looking embarrassed.
“There’s no need to be ashamed,” I reassure
her. “We’re all wired differently. Some people can spend their
whole lives and be perfectly fulfilled by vanilla missionary every
night. And others...we require something more particular to satisfy
our needs.”
She takes a gulp of beer, looking away, then
changes the subject. “What about my father?”
“I don’t think he shared my tastes,” I
joke.
She laughs, breaking the tension. “Eww, no!
I just meant, how did you guys get along? From the way you’ve
talked about him, it seems like you were pretty close.”
I nod, smiling at the memory of my mentor.
“He was a good man. Everyone respected him. He really made a point
of showing people that he was listening, that he heard them. He
gave you his full attention when you were with him, and that’s a
rare quality.”
Isabelle gives a small smile. “I remember.
Not that I got to see it very much,” she adds, sounding wistful.
“You probably spent more time with him than I ever did.”
She’s joking but there’s an edge of sorrow
behind her remark.
“You were family,” I reassure her. “He may
have worked hard, but you were always his number one priority.”
She shakes her head. “It didn’t feel that
way. After our mom died, he just buried himself in work. I guess it
was his way of coping with the pain of losing her. But I was pretty
much on my own again after that.” She pauses, years of sadness
behind her eyes. “Except for Brent. He was all I had in the world.
That’s why…” She looks away. “That’s why I let him treat me like
this. I didn’t want to lose him too.”
I take her hand, full of compassion for her.
Just when she thought she’d found a family, she lost it. No wonder
she always acts so icy and self-sufficient. It’s the only way she
can cope with her life.
Which makes her request to submit to me so
much more intriguing—and precious.
“You have me now,” I tell her firmly. “And
no one’s ever going to treat you that way again. You may not feel
very strong right now, but you’re stronger than you’ll ever
know.”
Isabelle gives a weak smile. “I don’t feel
strong. I feel like a total mess most of the time.”
“You’re not,” I insist. “It takes a strong
woman to admit that she wants to submit. To give up control of her
body and her emotions and trust that they’ll be handled with
care.”
She swallows. “Thank you, Cam. Not just for
this, but for everything.”
“Always,” I say simply. And it’s true. This
woman has gotten under my skin and wrapped herself around my heart.
Whatever she needs from me, I’ll provide.
No matter what the cost.
ELEVEN:
ISABELLE
We stroll back to his apartment, holding
hands on the dark street. I feel a strange sense of security wrap
around me, like as long as Cam is near, nothing bad can happen.
I glance over at him, his broad shoulders
and chiseled jaw. There’s a comfort to his physical presence—and a
danger, too. I already know the chemistry between us, and how he
can affect me. Strip down my defenses, see
around not just my tastes, but her own reaction earlier
tonight.
“It’s not weird at all,” I say calmly. “Sex
is about trust, intimacy. And giving up power to someone—or taking
control of that power—is a natural extension of that trust. Our
sexuality is more interesting and complex than we often give it
credit for,” I add. “Why settle for something boring and rote, when
you can discover who you really are?”
She toys with her beer for a second,
thinking hard.
“It surprised me,” she admits. “Feeling the
way I do. Not just tonight, but when Brent took me to the club. I
was curious, I felt excited. At least, before…” she stops, then
shakes her head, as if shaking the memory away. “I never expected
to feel this way. Sex was never…” she stops again.
“Never what you needed,” I finish for
her.
She nods, looking embarrassed.
“There’s no need to be ashamed,” I reassure
her. “We’re all wired differently. Some people can spend their
whole lives and be perfectly fulfilled by vanilla missionary every
night. And others...we require something more particular to satisfy
our needs.”
She takes a gulp of beer, looking away, then
changes the subject. “What about my father?”
“I don’t think he shared my tastes,” I
joke.
She laughs, breaking the tension. “Eww, no!
I just meant, how did you guys get along? From the way you’ve
talked about him, it seems like you were pretty close.”
I nod, smiling at the memory of my mentor.
“He was a good man. Everyone respected him. He really made a point
of showing people that he was listening, that he heard them. He
gave you his full attention when you were with him, and that’s a
rare quality.”
Isabelle gives a small smile. “I remember.
Not that I got to see it very much,” she adds, sounding wistful.
“You probably spent more time with him than I ever did.”
She’s joking but there’s an edge of sorrow
behind her remark.
“You were family,” I reassure her. “He may
have worked hard, but you were always his number one priority.”
She shakes her head. “It didn’t feel that
way. After our mom died, he just buried himself in work. I guess it
was his way of coping with the pain of losing her. But I was pretty
much on my own again after that.” She pauses, years of sadness
behind her eyes. “Except for Brent. He was all I had in the world.
That’s why…” She looks away. “That’s why I let him treat me like
this. I didn’t want to lose him too.”
I take her hand, full of compassion for her.
Just when she thought she’d found a family, she lost it. No wonder
she always acts so icy and self-sufficient. It’s the only way she
can cope with her life.
Which makes her request to submit to me so
much more intriguing—and precious.
“You have me now,” I tell her firmly. “And
no one’s ever going to treat you that way again. You may not feel
very strong right now, but you’re stronger than you’ll ever
know.”
Isabelle gives a weak smile. “I don’t feel
strong. I feel like a total mess most of the time.”
“You’re not,” I insist. “It takes a strong
woman to admit that she wants to submit. To give up control of her
body and her emotions and trust that they’ll be handled with
care.”
She swallows. “Thank you, Cam. Not just for
this, but for everything.”
“Always,” I say simply. And it’s true. This
woman has gotten under my skin and wrapped herself around my heart.
Whatever she needs from me, I’ll provide.
No matter what the cost.
ELEVEN:
ISABELLE
We stroll back to his apartment, holding
hands on the dark street. I feel a strange sense of security wrap
around me, like as long as Cam is near, nothing bad can happen.
I glance over at him, his broad shoulders
and chiseled jaw. There’s a comfort to his physical presence—and a
danger, too. I already know the chemistry between us, and how he
can affect me. Strip down my defenses, see
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