Page 30 of Healing the Heart

“Tell me your safeword, Fiona.”

“Red, sir.”

Fingers threaded through her hair and pulled her head back.

“I don’t recall giving instructions for you to kneel.”

“I shouldn’t have overstepped, sir, but I thought it would please you.”

“I’ll teach you what I like, pretty subbie, and will enjoy the lessons. You’re trembling,” he observed.

“I’m nervous, sir.”

“As expected. A little anxiety is good. It adds to the excitement, but I don’t want you scared.” His free hand cupped her chin, lifting it as he bent near. She knew this to be true by thewarmth of his breath on her lips. “Let’s see what I can do to allay some of your fears. Kiss me, little one.”

His lips touched hers, soft, warm, with just the right amount of firmness at the same time warning bells went off in her head. Blue eyes, silvered temples, andlittle onesaid in the same cadence coalesced into an image.

Other words that haunted her months later echoed in her head.Subs like Fat Fiona are fun to play with...when there’s no better option.

She refused to be used and then tossed aside because there was no one else, prettier, younger, and thinner, available to him.

“Stop!”

What she’d said wasn’t her safeword, but it worked just as well. The next instant the blindfold was gone, and she was gazing into the familiar face of a man who could be tender one moment but intentionally cruel the next.

She jerked, trying to move away from him, but with his fingers still tangled in her hair, pain seared her scalp and brought tears to her eyes. It was so insignificant as she faced her abuser. If not for his watery image, she might not have noticed.

“You!” she accused. “But you’re Doc, not Master Noah.”

“I’m Dr. Noah. We’re one and the same. You’re surprised?” he asked, seeming equally stunned by her reaction.

“Disappointed is more like it,” she shot back. “I didn’t think I was your type.”

“What makes you say that?”

“In your own words, ‘Fat cunts are fuckable, but you wouldn’t want a steady diet of them, if you know what I mean.’”

This time, he jerked, flinching as if she’d slapped him. “I recognize the insult. Do you actually think I...” His voice trailed off before he stated in wonder, as if having an epiphany, “Of course, that makes sense. Fiona, I said nothing of the kind.”

“But...”

“Think back. You were facing away from us, toward the bar. We had never spoken. What makes you so certain, of the three of us, with everyone else crowded into the lounge that day, it was I who said it?”

“Because Jordan told me you did.”

Fiona winced as soon as the words left her mouth, and she silently cursed herself as a fool, as he expressed exactly what she was thinking.

“You believed a foul-mouthed, revenge-driven sadist rather than me who has been nothing but straightforward and kind to you?”

“I... That was before he... Then it...” She swallowed hard to stop her stammering then tried again. “I was hurt and upset, and I guess not thinking it through. Then... After that awful night, I ended my membership and tried hard not to think of it again.”

“But you still believed me capable of such a thing until two minutes ago.”

With his hand still in her hair, she couldn’t turn away, so she closed her eyes. “This isn’t going well at all. I’d like to go home.”

“Now, where have I heard that before?” he drawled, mocking her, which was deserved. “We should sit and talk this out.”

“No! I’m done. Please, let me go.”

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