N is for... (Checklist Book 14) by L DuBois (latest novels to read TXT) 📗

bet that Master Carter doesn’t think of her the same way he thinks of say…Gabriela.” Gabriela was Master Leo’s bonded submissive, and the unofficial head submissive in the club.

“So you think Master Carter probably respects Gabriela, but doesn’t respect Pet, his own submissive. And both of them are weak.”

“I told you I was an asshole.”

“I hate to state the obvious…but I don’t think we’re talking about Pet right now.”

Autumn leaned her head back against the wall. “Yeah, okay. It might not be fully logical. It’s just…I hate that I want to submit. That I need to.”

“But you do need it?”

“Yes. Trust me, I wish I didn’t. I…tried other things.” She swallowed hard, trying not to remember. “Didn’t work. Las Palmas works for me.”

He hummed in quiet acknowledgement, but didn’t say anything, so she kept going.

“I had to separate the two parts of my life. Completely separate them. Submission,” she said, holding up one hand, “and relationships.” She held up the other hand.

“You said you need to submit. How do you handle that with relationships?” He pointed to the hand she’d raised.

“When I am seeing someone, the vanilla sex is always good. I mean I like it, I just need…more.”

“Having needs is not weak,” he said softly.

She ignored that. “The vanilla sex is probably because I can come here on the weekends and scene. Part of the separation is separating relationship sex from submission sex. And most of the time my scenes don’t involve penetrative sex with my top.”

“Makes sense,” he agreed mildly. “BDSM doesn’t have to include sex acts at all.”

She nodded, then adjusted his jacket, pulling it closed. Daniel seemed like an intelligent man. He’d probably put the pieces together, but she needed to be explicit. He deserved that, since she’d run away from their scene, which was at best bad BDSM etiquette, and at worst irresponsible because she’d broken a cardinal rule by failing to communicate with her top.

Autumn cleared her throat and steeled herself. “I only scene with people I can keep firmly on this side.” She waved her BDSM hand.

He raised his eyebrows in a silent request for her to explain.

“I don’t want to bottom for someone I… Someone that makes me feel… Ugh. Are you going to make me say it out loud?” She fought the urge to cover her face. Humiliation and embarrassment bit at her.

“Oh yeah. I want to hear you say it.”

His teasing tone lightened the painful embarrassment. She relaxed, and in a haughty tone said, “Jerk.”

His only reply was a wide grin, flashing his teeth in the moonlight.

She opened her mouth, but embarrassment choked her once more. After another brief silence he took pity on her.

“If we’d met at that hypothetical bar, we might have hit it off,” he summed up. “Might have gone home together for some vanilla sex.”

“Yes,” she whispered. “And I would have never told you I was a submissive. Because I’d want you to see me as a partner. An equal.”

“Not weak,” he murmured.

She nodded. “I couldn’t tell you because I’d know that, you couldn’t both know I was a sub and respect me. You couldn’t know I need to be spanked and tied up and hurt and fucked…and respect me.”

If you knew I was a sub, you wouldn’t love me.

Daniel was silent for a long time. Then he nodded once and pushed to his feet. She closed her eyes so she wouldn’t have to watch him walk away.

He didn’t leave. When he nudged her bare foot, she cracked open one eye and looked up.

He was silvery in the moonlight, the white undershirt clinging so his chest looked like it was carved of pale stone. He held out his hand and she placed hers in his, letting him help her to her feet.

Without a word he led her back to the warmth and light of the Sub Rosa court, her hand in his. She followed him, blinking in the bright-seeming light from the gas torches and landscape lighting that illuminated the space.

The chair they’d been using was still empty, her discarded corset marking the spot. On the way, Daniel stopped and flipped the lid up on a large basket, pulling out two heavy woven blankets. When they reached the chair, he tossed one of the folded blankets onto the ground.

Autumn swallowed hard. The blankets were often used as cushions so subs could comfortably kneel at their Master or Dom’s feet.

She stared at the blanket, anxiety and something like regret churning in her stomach.

Daniel plopped down to sit on the blanket. Autumn blinked at him.

“How about you sit down?” Daniel gestured to the wide chair. “And then tell me who the fucker was who hurt you.”

Chapter 8

Daniel watched her hesitate, and hoped the rage he felt wasn’t showing on his face. He was pretty good about hiding his emotions when needed, but what Autumn had said back there behind the building had pushed him near his damned limit.

Someone had hurt this woman. Someone had made her hate her own submissive needs. He knew, had known, women and girls who were taught not to value themselves. Who’d truly believed themselves to be less. Less worthy, less intelligent. Just…less.

A person’s submission was a gift to be treasured. Any Dom, hell, any man in general, who didn’t understand that needed to be smacked.

For a minute he thought she’d walk away, and he wouldn’t have blamed her. She probably felt emotionally raw.

But eventually she took a seat. Perched on the edge, her knees pressed together, heels of her hands braced on either side of her hips, she was clearly ready to bolt. He handed her the blanket, which she awkwardly draped over her bare knees.

Daniel made a show of stretching out one leg, hoping to make it apparent that he had every intention of sitting right where he was—it was the least dominant position he could think of. Literally sitting at her feet.

“How about we start with this question,” Daniel said. “Did you kill the fucker?”

That startled a