“Oh Gabe,” I say gently, feeling terrible that he thought that even for a few hours. “No, of course not. But what happened with her?”
He’s quiet for several long seconds. Then he answers heavily. “I asked to spank her, and she just freaked out. That’s why we split. I mean, it’s for the best. At first, I thought we were a good fit. It’s not like the bedroom issue was some deal breaker for me when I started seeing her. But over time, she started questioning me and accusing me of being interested in other women.”
I snort. I literally snort. “You’re pretty single-minded, as far as I can tell.”
He kisses my cheek like my compliment means everything to him. “Damn right, I am.” He sighs and goes back to his story. “But it just told me we didn’t have a lot of trust. I guess I thought we could build it in the bedroom. But when I asked, she lost her shit and went off on me loud enough to let my neighbors know she thought I was a pervert. I felt stupid, and honestly, kind of awful,” he says, wincing. He’s still feeling the sting of that indignity she’d dealt him?
I run my hand through his hair, comforting him. “I hate that you felt that way,” I say.
“Thanks. I even got her handcuffs as a gift, thinking it could help.” He gives a humorless laugh.
I linger on what he just told me about handcuffs, then on his text messages earlier about how it was an ultimate fantasy for him. I get it now. Last night was a big deal for him.
“And just so you know, I bought the ones from last night just for you,” he says, and the self-mocking tone has vanished. There’s a fierceness in its place. “I’d never use secondhand cuffs on you.”
I smile softly, then he continues.
“Anyway, when we split up, Brittany’s sister came to get her things, and she shoved the cuffs at me like they were diseased. Like I was a freak.”
My heart squeezes. “Sex is so much more than bodies tangled together. It’s about our hearts, and our minds too.”
His sigh sounds relieved. “Yeah. It is, Ellie.”
“It’s about desire and freedom and need,” I say, unable to let it go.
“Yes.” He nods in strenuous agreement. “You’re saying exactly what I’m feeling. But see, when I met you again, I thought if you knew how I liked to fuck, you’d rip me to shreds.”
I rest my head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry she made you feel that way. I like everything about the way you touch me. Actually, I love the way you touch me.”
He wraps an arm around my shoulders. “I love touching you. I’m glad you told me how you like it. You’re a fucking dream, Ellie,” he says, that rough and smoky tone returning to his voice.
I pull away so I can meet his eyes. “I’m glad I told you too. And thank you for being honest with me.”
And finally, I know.
I know what the be vulnerable challenge means to me.
Being real doesn’t mean I have to say I like you.
It’s obvious we like each other. There’s something deeper at play with Gabe. Something that matters more.
“Gabe, these last three nights have been incredible,” I begin.
“They have,” he says, tightening his grip on my hand.
“And I’ve had some trust issues with guys. A lot of trust issues, to be honest. I’ve picked poorly before, like I told you. But it’s different with you.”
A small smile forms on his lips. “Yeah?”
I nod. “I trust you so much,” I say, and finally, this feels right.
This admission is scary.
But it’s true, and it’s something I want him to know. “I feel safe with you, Gabe. At first, I didn’t know the reason—I just felt it. Safety.”
“Good. I want you to.”
“But now I know why,” I say, giddy with understanding.
“Tell me.”
“Because of how you treat me out of bed. You treat me like a queen,” I say, holding his gaze. “And that’s why I feel safe with you. I’ve always been fascinated with my own limits,” I say, and I’m not scared anymore. It’s a thrill to tell him my truth. It’s freeing to share my desires with a man who wants me to feel safe all the time, in and out of bed. “And there’s one more thing I’ve been wanting to try,” I say.
“Anything. Tell me anything,” he says, desperate.
I take a beat, run a hand down his arm. “I’ll tell you…in confession.”
21
FORGIVE ME, FATHER
Gabe
Her heels click against the white tiled floor, then the sound muffles when she comes into my bedroom, the plush carpet absorbing the noise. She must have brought those shoes with her. She wore sandals at the park. She packed for this scene, and that excites me.
Seated in a high-back chair on one side of the open closet door, I’m wearing a black button-down and slacks. My priest costume.
There’s a chair on the other side of the door.
“Good evening, Father,” she says, in a soft voice.
“Good evening,” I say as she sits.
“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” she begins, her tone contrite. “It’s been…oh gosh. Oh no.” She sounds so terribly worried. “Actually, I don’t know how long it’s been since my last confession.” She lets out a shuddery breath. “I can’t focus though. I can’t think.”
This wasn’t scripted. But fuck it. She’s always been the director of our scenes, throwing me for loops. She makes the choices. I just roll with them. “Why can’t you think, my child?”
“Because…Father,” she says, her tone a little trembly. “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”
It comes out borderline sensual.
“I’m new,” I improvise.
“Ohh. That’s good to know,” she says, breathy, almost a purr.
This woman is going to push all my buttons tonight. When Ellie role-plays, she fucking plays. She is all in. And I have to hold my own. Adjust to her character. Clearing my throat, I adopt a stern voice. Tonight, I’ll be the merciless priest.
“Why don’t you start by confessing your biggest sins,” I command.
There’s a rustle of clothes. The sound of movement. She’s fidgeting with something, maybe that new necklace she’s wearing tonight. “Gosh, there are so many, Father. I don’t know where to begin. I’ve had such a busy week.”
Me fucking too.
I tug on my collar, like that’ll turn down the temperature that’s rising in me. “Start with your sins from the last week, my child.”
“Are you sure? I was pretty bad. Do you want them all?” There’s a teasing lilt to her words.
“Yes, I want them all,” I say crisply, matching her vixen with my domination. “Start now.”
I can’t see her face, but I can see her legs. She crosses those toned calves, one heel resting on the other.
My breath races along with my thoughts. Those legs spread-eagled on my bed. Those heels on my shoulders. Her standing in front of the bathroom mirror.