N is for... (Checklist Book 14) by L DuBois (best classic books TXT) 📕

“He liked ‘dirty talk’.” Her lips twisted in a grimace. “He was into the D/s, but when I tried to explain I didn’t have a degradation kink, that I didn’t like being called those names, he said that they worked for him. Helped him get in the mood.”

“Did you set a hard limit for no name-calling?”

“No, because…because I was scared if I did that he wouldn’t want to do it at all.”

“You were willing to take what you could get, even if it hurt you.”

“Yes. For a while. I left when…when he started expecting me to be submissive all the time. Ordered me to kneel while we watched TV. Expected me to answer with a ‘Yes, Master’ when we were out in public. He bought me a day collar—a very ugly necklace. When I asked if he was fucking joking, he got pissed.”

“And that’s how you developed a disdain for people like Master Carter and Pet.”

“Pretty much. After that I gave up on BDSM. At least until I started making serious money. Then I found out about, and joined, Las Palmas.”

She seemed to sink into herself a little after that, but it felt more like it was due to relaxation than a protective physical retreat.

“That’s quite the origin story,” he said.

“I’ve never told anyone those things. I mean my girlfriends know a little bit, but they don’t know it all. They don’t know about Las Palmas either. They think this is some boring club for finance people.”

“Is that what you do? Finance stuff?”

She looked at him, then quickly looked away. “I…I don’t share that with people here. What I do.”

That hurt. It shouldn’t, because most people didn’t talk about their jobs at the club. Many used fake names as an added layer of protection.

She was watching him warily, as if waiting for him to react badly. Because of that, Daniel made sure his expression didn’t change. She relaxed once more. He kept up the head massage, occasionally moving down to knead the muscles of her shoulders and neck.

“Now you know all my secrets,” Autumn murmured. “You know that I’m a sub who doesn’t respect subs—”

“You’re not,” he said firmly.

“—and therapy-ed me until I realized that I was scared for them, probably because of how my relationship with Mike ended.”

“I was unaware therapy was a verb.”

“And what we just did was the best scene I’ve ever had.”

Daniel took a satisfied breath. “I like hearing that.”

They sat in silence for a while. She’d shared her origin story…it was only right he do the same.

The words wouldn’t come. They sat there in silence. A silence that changed from companionable to tense as the minutes ticked by. Around them people came and went from the library. There were voices interspersed with the cracking sounds of someone getting spanked, and occasional moans of pleasure.

Damn it. Why couldn’t he just tell her?

Daniel didn’t hide his past, but he also didn’t talk about it. Because of what he’d done when he finally got out, there was no way to keep it secret. After all, his congressional testimony was public record.

But if he were to start talking about his past right now, it wouldn’t be just the facts of what had happened. It wouldn’t be a calm recitation of what he’d been through and how it had affected him. He knew how to tell that story without breaking down, to tell it like he was speaking about someone else, as if who he’d been was a separate person.

Autumn sat up, wiggling until she was perched on his thigh, but with her feet on the floor. “I know we’re not done with our letter, but I think I need a few days to recov—”

“What bar?”

She glanced at him, raising a brow “What bar…?”

“What bar would we have met at?” he asked. “Dive bar in Silver Lake? The hotel bar at the Standard on the Sunset Strip?”

Her lips twitched in a smile. “Downtown L.A. One of the themed ones.”

“Themed bar?” He shook his head. “Really?”

“Oh yeah. That one in the basement with the old bank vault that’s like a speakeasy. Or the hipster one that looks like an old hunting lodge and serves whiskey cocktails. I unapologetically love bars with weird themes and decor.”

“In that case I would have been slightly embarrassed to be there.”

“Okay, what if I’d met you at one of your favorite bars?” She pursed her lips. “Where would it be?”

“Rooftop garden bar at the Bungalow in Santa Monica.”

“Touristy.”

“Great view of the ocean.”

Autumn shrugged out of the blanket, letting it fall to her waist, but only for a moment. He got a quick glimpse of her pretty breasts, the small marks he’d made easier to see in this light. Then she was pulling the blanket up, under her arms, and tucking it around her like a towel.

“If we had met at that bar, if we had left together, I would never have told you I like to be sexually submissive.” She stood, smiling down at him. “We would never have gotten to this.”

Daniel had to curl his fingers into fists to stop himself from reaching out and grabbing her, pulling her back down onto his lap. “We aren’t done with our letter.”

“I know, but…” She raised one brow. “Honestly, I think we more than satisfied the requirements.”

“We didn’t do nipple weights. And didn’t play with your piercings. I have them stored safely, by the way.” Daniel stood, which put him solidly in her personal space. Autumn narrowed her eyes and didn’t back down. “I’m not done with you, lover.”

“Next weekend, then.”

“Tomorrow night.”

“No. I have plans.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I have plans to not be here.”

She raised her chin, as if daring him to challenge the statement.

Their scene had been good. So damned good. He wanted to play with her again tonight—it was early enough, and then again tomorrow.

She was pulling back.

Probably because she shared her past with you, was open and vulnerable, and instead of reciprocating you stonewalled her with silence.

She’d shared things with him. Told him both