Page 10 of Beneath the Scars
“Come on, Ry. Who the fuck is going to want to be with me? With all my issues, there’s not a single person in the world who’d be willing to take me on.”
He gives me an unamused look. “That’s not true, Michael, and you know it. Any woman would be lucky to have you as their partner. You’re loyal and protective and selfless, just to name a few of your good qualities.”
The only person I’d be interested in dating is his sister, and seeing as how that conversation could go horribly in so many ways, I’m not about to bring her up. Needing to get away from that thought process, I put it back on him. “What about you, Romeo? Any of those people constantly sniffing around the flower shop ever catch your eye?”
He scoffs. “None of them are there to see me. That’s ridiculous.”
“No, you’re ridiculous. I know you have to get to know a person before you feel a connection, but that’ll require you to get out of your comfort zone and actually talk to them. I’ve seen no less than two women and three men checking you out in one day. Your options are endless. “
“Highly doubtful. Mom’s finally found someone she wants to hire full-time.”
“You’re changing the subject. I’m letting it go for now, but only because we can’t talk about this shit in the diner. It’d be all over town in a heartbeat.”
Ryan laughs. “True enough.”
We walk side by side toward the glass doors. The windowpanesalong the side of the gleaming silver trailer reveal that almost all the red booths are full.
I wait until we’re seated at a table to finish our conversation. “Who did your mom end up hiring?”
“Her name is Eliza. She just moved to town to get away from a crappy ex.”
“How did she end up here?”
“She threw a dart at a map.”
I raise my eyebrows. “You’d have to be pretty brave to move to a new place without any support.”
“That’s how we felt too. So we decided to give her a leg up. She’s also pretty great with the flowers.”
I chuckle. “I’d hope so.”
We pause our conversation when the young waitress comes around to take our orders.
Ryan picks it back up when she leaves, and his smirk prepares me for his next words. “If you gave that girl any indication that you’re interested, she’d hop in your lap right now.”
While a tad dramatic, he’s probably not wrong. I don’t respond, choosing to roll my eyes instead. He likes to tease me about the girls who flirt with me because he knows I won’t give them the time of day.
If these women knew what I would expect from them, they’d run screaming for the hills. I’ve only ever contemplated telling my dirty secret to one woman. Adalaide has seen me at some of the lowest points in my life, yet somehow, despite all my brokenness, she’s never once backed down.
It’s one of the many reasons I’ve talked myself in and out of pursuing her for years. She sees me in a way nobody else does, and I’m terrified that if I tell her my secrets, she’ll never look at me the same way again.
Hitting puberty came with the realization that if I ever wanted to have sex with a girl, I’d have to touch them and let them touch me. It immediately turned meoff the idea. My love life would never be typical if I couldn’t even stand the idea of being intimately touched by someone.
As I got older and began to explore my sexuality, I developed an interest in kinks. In the BDSM world, it’s not odd to have limits and boundaries for sex. It’s also a hell of a lot easier to find women who don’t mind being tied up.
I became a member of a kink club in Greensboro a couple of years after I graduated from the police academy. A fellow dominant took me under his wing and taught me how to properly care for a submissive.
It was so much more than controlling their pleasure. I had to pay attention to everything they were saying, both verbally and physically. If I noticed my sub becoming uncomfortable, it was my duty to check in with them. Not every sub was good at communicating how they felt. I soaked up every lesson my mentor gave me, and I’m a sought-after Dom now. The women at the club have learned they can trust me to take care of them.
These days, I don’t go very often because even at the club, it’s become hard to meet women willing to have a one-and-done interaction. They’re usually trying to find a steady Dom, and I can understand why. This lifestyle requires trust. Having to set limits and work out boundaries every time you need a release gets exhausting.
I can’t deny that the idea of taking care of a woman, seeing to all her needs, appeals to me. But I’ve only ever imagined a long-term relationship with one woman, and the thought of Addie wanting anything to do with the BDSM lifestyle is laughable. She isn’t a submissive, though the image of her tied up on my bed has brought me some of my best orgasms.
Ryan’s face suddenly lights up, and I look over my shoulder to see what he’s looking at. My stomach knots as Addie walks into the diner, then rage envelops me. Someasshole walks in right behind her and tickles her ribs, making her squeal.
Years of practicing control are the only reason I don’t get up and punch him in the face.
Ryan waves them over, and I take a lot of pleasure in how Adalaide’s eyes widen when she sees me sitting in the booth. She leads the schmuck over to our table, grinning at her brother.
