Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 102578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
“I need this,” I whispered. “I miss solid ground.”
His gaze softened. He didn’t say anything at first; he had to think. Unlike me, he chose his words with care. “We were more solid as Master and sub,” he concluded quietly.
In a way, yeah. “It felt more…stable.” Even though the open relationship had been born from our kinks, the Master in him had never failed to make me feel secure. The mental hold he had on my submission was tighter than anything else.
“All right.” He nodded pensively and drew his fingers through my hair again. “But no speech restrictions—we have to talk openly and honestly.”
“Yes, Master.” I hugged his leg in appreciation.
He offered one more nod before he picked up his slice and took a bite. He chewed slowly, and I rested my chin on his thigh, waiting for his move. He was the best at setting up structure.
“Open.”
I tilted my head and opened my mouth as he held the slice near me, and I took a big bite. He’d picked the olive pieces from it.
The flavors of cheese, tomatoes, and wing sauce hit my taste buds, and it was so fucking good.
“I wish I could scrub our memories of the past six months,” he murmured. “We don’t convey what we really mean when we fight.”
Truth—and I was mostly to blame for that. Lee wasn’t a fighter. He was infuriatingly rational and took his time to think about what he wanted to say. If something was wrong, he sat me down and spoke about it in a calm manner. That didn’t mean he never fought. He definitely did. He lost his temper like the rest of us, but it was never about the big-picture things. He got pissy when I agreed for us to go out to dinner with friends without talking things over with him first. He could be moody as hell in the mornings. He could start a fight with me if I moved his books while tidying up.
Meanwhile, I let things build up inside me until I almost exploded. Like, I wasn’t happy with us being so open. And rather than just telling him that, I let the hurt out in bursts while never hitting the mark.
I’d fucked up so hard.
“May I tell you where I went wrong, Master?”
“Of course.” He extended a new pizza slice to me first, and I accepted it.
“I’ve been thinking about this a lot.” I bit into the slice and chewed quickly. “I was fine with us being open in the beginning—but when I started falling in love with you, it made me scared. I knew of your past, how you called yourself a temporary fixture in people’s lives, how you eventually moved on because it was how you grew up as a Navy brat. And you and I kind of had a silent and not-so-silent understanding that we couldn’t last forever. So I didn’t speak up. I chickened out and didn’t tell you I wanted to renegotiate our terms—because I was afraid to lose you.”
He rubbed my neck gently. “What would that renegotiation look like? What’s your honest stance on the openness?”
Well, this was a hard pill to swallow. “I think I’m wired wrong, Master. What I want and what I need aren’t the same. I want you to myself. I-I get jealous. I wanna be just you and me…”
“But.”
“But I know I need more,” I admitted reluctantly. I finished the slice just to be done with it, because I wasn’t hungry anymore.
He hummed. “You’re not wired wrong, boy. We just haven’t figured out our solution yet. There’s always a compromise.”
How?
“I’ll admit I haven’t been completely comfortable with our sharing either,” he said, changing the topic. Or going back, maybe. “It was a quick alternative I offered easily in the beginning when things were purely physical. You’re a switch, so of course we’ll need playtime with others. But I should’ve been more attentive to the changes we went through as our relationship evolved into something more. When feelings change, so do limits.”
I peered up at him. He was right. That was exactly how it was.
He grabbed a napkin and wiped my mouth. “I managed to suppress my discomfort somewhat since we didn’t actually play with that many for a long time.”
“Same here.” It worked for a few years. Three partners with whom we met up a couple times before we lost interest. Then it escalated. I supposed we’d reached a stage in our relationship where we were secure and loving life—things were so good—and one of us suggested we participate in a group-play event. I didn’t remember whose idea it was, and it didn’t matter because we’d both been on board. All in. It’d been exhilarating, like a new toy to play with. “We should’ve renegotiated when we got into group play too.”