Page 103 of Breaking Free

Having worn both of Josie’s leather creations and her only LBD twice already, she opted for a club dress she’d bought at a thrift store on a whim when she’d first arrived in LA. She had to root around in her closet to find the dark-green satin and, thankfully, it still fit. It had a low draped neckline, delicatespaghetti straps with a daring plunge in the back that led to a flouncy bow at her waist. It revealed a lot of skin, especially with her hair up in a clip, the loose waves falling to her shoulders but leaving most of her back bare, and the mini-hemline showcased her long legs.

When she came down the stairs, Tristan looked up, appearing almost startled. But he quickly collected himself and slowly perused her from head to toe, saying nothing. She interpreted his lack of response as bad.

“The bow is too cutesy for the club, isn’t it?” Not really expecting an answer, she whirled to charge back upstairs. “I’ll go change.” Into what, she wasn’t sure.

By the third step, he caught her hand, bringing her to a halt. “The dress is fine. We need to get going.”

Fine wasn’t exactly a rave review. His good mood hadn’t rebounded, and she regretted for the umpteenth time trying to coax him to open up to her. He once told her teaching newbies required baby steps sometimes. Helping a stubborn man break free of his past did as well. Perpetually grouchy wasn’t cured in a day, after all.

Upon reaching the landing, she glanced down, her doubts remaining, especially seeing her silver ankle-strap shoes, also thrift store acquired. The four-inch heels put her over six feet, something she usually avoided. She didn’t have to worry about that with Tristan. She would still have to look up several inches to meet his eyes. Still...

“Are you sure I don’t need to change?”

“I’m sure,” he replied with a husky rasp.

The sound was familiar, one she’d only heard from him after sex. Perhaps she had chosen the right dress after all. Then he shattered her moment of confidence.

“You won’t be wearing it for long anyway. Or the shoes, for that matter.”

“Go ahead. Give it to me straight. I’m perfectly calm,” she drawled while a million butterflies fluttered in her stomach.

He steered her toward the door. “You’d rather I sugarcoat the truth?”

“Yes!” His honesty could be brutal at times. After thinking it over, she amended, “Perhaps just a touch.”

It took him a while, but he finally got it—she needed a little reassurance. “You did amazing last night, Piper. This won’t be any different, except you lose the panties.”

He shared this as they descended the front steps, and she promptly tripped at the bottom. He adeptly caught her and kept going.

“Just to be clear. I don’t have to desensitize to not wearing panties. I’ll be wearing a G-string and a top sheet tomorrow.”

“For the tie I have in mind, they’ll be in the way. Besides, how many subs have you seen wearing panties under the spotlights?”

She swallowed around the lump in her throat. He wasn’t wrong. Except for a few chastity belts, she’d seen clamped, bejeweled, and meticulously groomed and waxed pussies on her visits to the playroom, but zero panties, other than on herself.

They had reached the gate. Tristan paused, turned her to face him, and tipped up her chin. “Is something else bothering you?”

I love youwas on the tip of her tongue. Admitting it she feared was a crash and burn moment she doubted they’d ever recover from.

“I’m on edge is all,” she said instead, which was the truth. “Having a stalker while embarking on my first lead role then having to do a hard R scene to boot, is nerve-racking.”

“We don’t have to do this tonight, but you’re out of time.”

“I know. And it’s not like I’ll be the only one buck naked—unlike tomorrow.”

Twilight had descended, and the shadows in the courtyard lengthened. The solar lights blinked on, revealing his earnestexpression as he reminded her, “You’re safe with me, Piper. And you always have an out.”

Of course, she had a safeword, which she trusted him to honor, or she wouldn’t be in this arrangement to begin with. Backing out now, at the eleventh hour, over a tiny scrap of fabric seemed silly. She’d enjoyed every scene they’d had together. Being tied was exhilarating, the orgasms unbelievable, and the aftercare was sublime. And she sure as heck didn’t want Tristan to replace her with a less shy demonstration model.

She sighed. “Do you think I’m overreacting?”

“You’re a newbie,” he said matter-of-factly. “They’re full of anxiety and notorious for overreacting. We doms have been trying to get that removed from the job description for years.”

She blinked in surprise. “Did Master Tristan just crack a joke?”

“Nope. That’s the un-sugarcoated truth.”

When he did it again, levity so uncommon from him, she couldn’t keep from giggling. It was true what they said; laughter was the best medicine. Suddenly, more at ease, she came to a decision. “I suppose when in Rome, do as the Romans. Sans panties it is.”

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