Page 9 of Ashley
"Wait, what?" James felt his heart stop. When he'd met the woman, there had been something endearing and soft about her, a gentleness that had drawn him close and made him want to protect, to nurture, but most of all consume. He had wanted her and so he'd had her, but he hadn't thought she was a true sub. She hadn't told him, and past him making her choose a safeword, outlining how far they were both willing to go in their night together, and working to check in with her regularly, she'd given no indication of sub space.
"How do you know about her?" he asked.
"She's my best friend. How do you think I know about her bedroom activities?" Natasha replied with a frown and then shook her head. "She hasn't been okay, James."
"Fuck," he rasped out, hands going to his hair. "How long?"
"Just came out of it today," Silas answered, glancing toward the door with a wince.
"Or she had, until she saw you," Natasha added with a reproachful look.
James twisted his neck and scanned the room. "She's here?"
"Was," Silas corrected. "Shewashere."
"Where did she go?"
Natasha jerked a thumb toward the door. "She saw you and booked it. That's how I knew you were the Daddy she told me about."
James shook his head, feeling like he was in a daze. "She didn't tell me she was a little." There had been so many women who were simply in it for the taboo, for a walk on the wild side, and they humored him and his urge for control, for being called Daddy without truly taking it to heart. How had he missed a true little? He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut. This was proof that he wasn't living right, that he had strayed so far from who he was lately. "Fucking hell. Where is she?" he asked. There was no excuse for what had happened, for her to have to put herself back together without him there, and he vowed to make it up to her at all costs. He would show her that he could be better and that she deserved far better than he had done by her.
When Natasha didn't look like she was going to answer, Silas spoke, "Our place."
James nodded, already moving toward the door. "Thanks, man."
"Where are you going?" Natasha asked, brow furrowed.
"Your place," James called over his shoulder, already weaving through the crowd. He had to get to her andnow, the need to fix and protect rising so fiercely in him that he felt like sprinting but forced himself to keep walking. He'd left a little in a lurch, taken her so high, and failed to recognize what she probably hadn't known about herself. He had to fix this and fast. He just prayed it wasn't too late for him to make amends.
