Weighted Wires by Lilia Moon

Author:Lilia Moon [Moon, Lilia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lilia Moon

Chapter Twenty-Six

Rafe

I look down at the key in my palm. It took half the ride home for India to say a single word. The key to her studio came after the limits list—and after she declared “garden gnome” her safeword.

The woman I’m lusting after is anything but simple.

I admit, as I let myself into her studio, just how much I want this. Want her. There’s enough Dom in me that I would do this simply because it’s needed. Healing has always been one of the ways I serve, and a sub carrying seven years of scars she doesn’t deserve is more than enough reason to get me onboard. But it’s not my primary reason, and she needs me walking into that cottage in an hour wearing honesty like a second skin. I’m in this because she’s fascinating and she tugs at everything inside me, including all the wires that run straight to my cock.

I close the door behind me and lean against it, inhaling the emotional stillness. Processing. Letting what lives inside me do the work it needs to do, because I didn’t lie to her on the ferry. What lives inside her is a rare gift, and if she chooses to bring it to my bed, I need to be ready.

I’ve only known a couple of other subs like her. One taught me most of the important things I know about being a Dom. The other was a visitor. A drop-in from a club in Seattle. Young and blonde and cheerful and it took her about five minutes to have Adrian, the Tangled brat squad, and every unattached Dom in the club ready to worship at her feet.

I grin. Ari became a friend that day, mostly because I was tending bar and got to stand back long enough to realize that she walked in expecting to leave disappointed. Not in a professional sense. She came to talk marketing with Adrian, and that part left the man who owns the kink scene in Vancouver deeply impressed and cranky he wasn’t able to poach her.

But the part I saw, and the part that reminds me of India, are the eyes of a sub who doesn’t think anyone can handle her. The eyes of one of our best and brightest and most dangerous. Subs who surrender like oceans and kick up a tsunami if you get it wrong.

To touch that is an immeasurable responsibility.

Randy was a good Dom seven years ago and he’s a better Dom with the consequences of tearing guilt and humility and three years of marriage under his belt. But he’s not me.

I breathe into that. I’ve earned my stripes, my right of entry into the very small group of Doms capable of engaging with the kind of sub India is and holding the container she needs to set herself free—and I didn’t earn those stripes as a Dom. I did it as a little boy who could feel all of everything and desperately needed the tools that would keep him sane.

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