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

the courtyard basket. He draped it over her, pulling it up to her chin. She snuggled against his chest and closed her eyes.

She felt his lips touch the top of her head, a soft, barely-there kiss.

“You were beautiful, perfect,” he murmured. “Just rest now. Let me take care of you.”

She was glad he couldn’t see her face, didn’t see the silent tears that slid from under her lashes. If he’d asked why she was crying, she wouldn’t have been able to give him an answer.

Chapter 14

Daniel kept his arm around her as they walked back to the library. It was called the library, but the lovely dark wood shelves held collections of antique sex toys rather than books. It also had a long bar against one wall. The club was hopping, as full as he’d ever seen it. Every barstool was occupied, as were the several small cocktail tables near it, and the large couches by the mission-style fireplace.

“Hold on, just wait here for a second,” he murmured to her.

She nodded, her heavy-lidded eyes focused on the middle distance.

He snagged an empty club chair—with permission from the Dom sitting in its mate. The chair’s former occupant was no doubt the woman currently kneeling on the floor with her head bent.

Dragging the chair into a corner, he half turned it so that they were facing one of the bookshelf walls but could still see the room. He wanted some privacy.

The lighted display in the closest bookcase was a series of glass dildos in graduated sizes. They caught the light, refracting it beautifully.

Daniel collected Autumn, wrapping his arms around her once more and guiding her through the room. A few Doms nodded at him, a brief acknowledgment. Every person in there knew, based not just on the blanket, but by the way he had his arm around her, his head bent over hers, that they were post-scene and about to engage in some aftercare.

When they reached the chair, he sat then tugged her down onto his lap so her back was to the room. She sat gingerly, wincing a little. If he were a truly good and chivalrous man her wince would have made him feel guilty. Instead he felt satisfied.

Spreading his knees, he shifted her so that her ass was between his knees, her legs draped over one thigh, her back supported by both his arm and the curved armrest of the chair. She wiggled, scooting herself further down so that she could rest her head against his neck and cheek.

“How are you feeling?”

She took her time answering. He stroked her leg over the blanket, ready to be patient, to sit in silence, for as long as she needed.

“Tired. Sore.” Her voice was a little scratchy.

“If you give me a second, I’ll get up and get you some more water.”

In the immediate aftermath of the scene he’d given her a water bottle, which she’d chugged while he cleaned her hand and then between her ass cheeks, with baby wipes.

“I’d rather you stay here,” she murmured.

“All right, lover.” The endearment came out of his mouth before he’d thought through the reasons why he shouldn’t say it.

Autumn tensed in his arms, then shifted, pushing herself up enough that she could twist to face him.

“You called me that before, in the scene.”

His heart was hammering in his chest and there were butterflies in his stomach. He was fucking ridiculous. He hadn’t felt like this since…well, he didn’t remember. If he were a normal person it would have been some cute story, like he’d felt these flutters the first time he kissed someone. But he wasn’t normal, and there were no cute stories.

“I did.”

Her eyes scanned his face, feature by feature. “You didn’t call me pet, or slut, or whore.”

“I think I called you all those things.” He leered, and she smiled, which was the effect he’d been hoping for.

“You did, but not towards the end. Even though what I was doing…what you were making me do…was objectively whore-y.”

“Whore-y.”

“There really isn’t a better word to describe being fucked by a machine with a plug in your ass, nipple clamps on, while also jerking off a hot guy.” She arched a brow, as if daring him to correct that statement.

He grinned. Damn, he liked talking to her. “There’s an argument to be made that you were just being a good submissive.”

“I am a terrible submissive.”

“No.” He caught one of her hands, lacing their fingers together. “You’re not a terrible submissive.”

She looked away, gaze scanning the room, then whispered something so low he couldn’t hear it. It sounded like “Not for you.” but he couldn’t be sure.

“Autumn, talk to me.” He stroked her cheek.

“Why?” She faced him once more. “Wait, I don’t mean why should I talk to you.” She took a breath, and when that caused the blanket to slip down her shoulders she didn’t stop it.

Daniel reached out, grabbing the fabric and tugging it up around her neck.

“Why did you stop using those words? After all, it was part of our checklist assignment.”

It hadn’t been a conscious choice, but the minute she asked the question, he knew the answer. And from the look on her face, he suspected that she knew the answer too.

He stayed silent, waiting for her to verbalize it first.

“It’s because you knew… You knew if you called me a whore, or a slut, while I was doing something whore-y, it would hurt.”

“Yes.” That was true, but it wasn’t the full truth.

“How?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Good Dom instincts. Experience. The look on your face. All possibilities.”

“We just met, and you realized something they—” She cut herself off.

“Ah, good. We’re here. I’ve been waiting for this part.”

“What part?” She’d hunched her shoulders and was no longer looking at him.

“Your sub origin story.”

That startled a laugh out of her.

He smiled, relieved that he could make her laugh, could keep her rooted and safe both physically and emotionally.

“My sub origin story.” She was grinning.

“Someone hurt you.” He ran his hand up