Graduation and Gifts (Untouchable Book 8) by Heather Long (ebook reader play store .txt) 📗

get to New York. It’ll be nice to have others I can talk to who won’t think it’s weird when I ask about my desire to be a brat.”

Lyssa chuckled and I snorted, but Frankie’s wide grin delighted me. “You don’t need a reason,” Lyssa answered before I could.

“She would know,” Richard declared as he strolled in wearing a suit and tie. He also had a duffel bag over his shoulder. I had no idea what he did in his day job life. He didn’t offer, and I didn’t ask. “I am running late, my apologies if I kept you waiting. If you don’t mind giving me ten minutes, I’ll go change and we can get started.” He gave Frankie a quiet nod, but held out his hand to me. I shook it once.

“No problem. We’ve been catching up with Lyssa.”

“Excellent. No coffee,” he said to Lyssa, and she stuck her tongue out at him.

“It’s for Frankie.”

His expression was indulgent. “Of course it is, but a reminder never hurt anyone, unlike bratty behavior.”

The connection between them amused me. I couldn’t tell if they were just dating or together. One of the things they’d both stressed in the beginning was BDSM could be a component of a relationship or it could be the whole relationship. But just because they did scenes together didn’t necessarily mean they shared a sexual relationship as well. The power exchange was one aspect, the sexual relationship was another.

Part of why I understood that I wouldn’t really look for someone else to share the power dynamic with. I wanted it all with Frankie. Even coming here in the beginning to learn and try to explore my interests, I hadn’t wanted to just find someone to work a scene with, even after observing. There had been more joy in the play Frankie and I had done, unstructured or constrained, than anything I’d seen here.

Not that I was judging, either. I wanted to learn. I wanted to know everything. Richard and Lyssa were both open, direct people. Richard might be more reserved than Lyssa, but I got that impression from a few of the more dominant partners I’d met here. They were more guarded, especially around their sub. Since I did the same thing for Frankie, I definitely got it. I also appreciated their candor more than I could describe. Making it safe and joyful for Frankie would always be my primary goal.

Frankie had the large cup of coffee in a refillable tumbler ready to go. At her raised eyebrows, I just smiled. I loved that she always wanted to make sure I was okay with something too. Honestly, I’d have probably been more nervous if I were doing this to Frankie right now with an audience. I was less uncertain about having her there to watch and learn with me.

“All right, you two,” Lyssa said with a grin. “Enough with the googly eyes. You’re killing my teeth here. C’mon, let’s take you back. We’re in the quiet room tonight. I thought it would be easier for you and that you may not want an audience for your first tying session.”

“Thank you,” I told Lyssa as I held my hand out for Frankie. “Do I need to change?”

“Are you comfortable in what you’re wearing?”

I was in jeans and a T-shirt. Our jackets were hanging up. Like me, Frankie was in jeans and she had on one of her Torched T-shirts that she’d fallen in love with. Neither of us had on motorcycle boots, but I’d added those to the list of items we needed to add to our wardrobes, particularly for longer rides.

“Pretty much.”

“Well, then unless Master Dick,” she said the last bit with a wink and a conspiratorial smile at Frankie, “says otherwise, you’re fine.” As we followed her, Frankie slipped her hand right into mine. “As you get the feel for it, you’ll know more about what you’re comfortable in.”

Richard—yeah not calling him Master Dick unless absolutely required, bratty subs and all that notwithstanding—seemed fairly relaxed when he offered advice. But his commands were absolute, and it was interesting to see how he spoke to and handled Lyssa in a scene versus outside of it.

The quiet room was just that—the walls were a little thicker and padded to help insulate against sounds from outside. The room was set up so they could arrange what they needed in it. There were hooks and eyelets in the wall for running ropes and an armbar that extended out for suspension work.

We were definitely not there yet.

Richard was already in the room when we stepped inside, and he had an assortment of materials from rope to silk ties and more. He nodded to Frankie, then to a pair of armchairs set up in the corner.

“Be good,” she teased me with a whisper. “I expect good grades.”

Yeah, I swatted her on the ass as she skipped away from me, and her laughter eddied back. Brat.

Lyssa grinned as she slipped off her shoes. Like us, she was dressed in street clothes and casual. Though her pants were more leggings and she pulled off the T-shirt to reveal the body hugging top underneath.

“Better for you to see form,” was all Richard said. “Clothing is something you’re also going to practice with and without eventually. You just have to remember that when you’re binding, clothing can also bind.”

Okay, that made sense.

Instead of sticking with us, Lyssa padded over to the corner and settled into the other armchair.

“We’re not quite ready for her yet,” Richard continued as he set out the different types of restraints. There were leather ties. Handcuffs. Different kinds of rope. Silk ties. Even regular pieces of torn cloth. “Let’s go over the merits of each, then remind me what you know about coiling your ropes and knots.”

The next hour was a bit grueling. Richard was a very precise man, which I appreciated. One of the very first demonstrations I attended had been in ropework, and he’d gone over the different ways of