Chapter 6 Kensie #2
Grant slips an arm around me and places his free hand at my chin, tilting it up so I have to look at him. He keeps it there, his thumb running gentle circles over my skin. His eyes are still warm and dark. He doesn’t look like he’s about to drop me.
“Do you remember what I told you the other night? That me doing everything you wanted wasn’t necessarily what was good for you?”
Oh God, I knew this was going to happen. Whatever he might have said about me not feeling shame for wanting to be punished, he obviously thinks it was fucked up. He’s going to tell me he doesn’t want to be that escape for me anymore, probably suggest I get therapy or—
“I’m proposing you agree to trust me to know what’s good for you.”
My forehead scrunches in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“I’d like us to have a more traditional Dom/sub relationship. I’d like you to let me take control.”
“Don’t you already do that?”
His grin is a little wolfish and I can’t help the way my core reacts to that.
“You give me control in the context of the scenes you’ve requested.
” He leans in closer, his lips brushing my ear.
“You let me control your body and your pleasure when I’m fucking you.
” I can’t stop the full body shiver that runs through me, and from the way his eyes flash, he likes knowing how much he affects me.
Then he says something that throws cold water all over my desire.
“I want more than that.”
More. The word immediately throws up every one of my defenses. What does more mean? Dating? Seeing each other like this outside of the club on a regular basis? Giving up on my list of sexual exploration fantasies?
More sounds like commitment. A man in my life again.
I don’t want more. Can’t do more.
Right?
“Deep breath for me,” he says calmly, continuing to run his thumb over my cheek. “Just relax and listen.”
I nod, trying to get my breathing under control.
“I’m not asking you for anything you don’t want to give,” he says. “I’m simply hoping to adjust our arrangement in a way that I think will be more beneficial to both of us.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I’m a Dominant, Kensie.” I nod, nearly rolling my eyes, because, duh. He smirks, knowing just what I’m thinking, but continues. “And you’re a submissive. I want to treat you the way I would normally treat my submissive.”
My stomach hollows out. I don’t know why, but I really don’t like the idea of him with other subs.
“Is it that different from the way you are with me?” I whisper, hoping he can’t hear how gutted I am.
“In some ways, yes. I let you set every scene.”
“I thought that was the point of our arrangement.”
He tilts his head. “The point was to help you explore your submissive side and figure out what you do and don’t like when it comes to sex.”
Of course, the waiter chooses that moment to appear with our desserts—because the universe clearly hates me.
But Grant ignores my mortified blush, and the waiter entirely, keeping his hands exactly where they are on my face and body and never dropping my gaze.
The man arranges our plates and then leaves without a word.
“Don’t worry,” Grant murmurs. “This place is known for their discretion.” Before I can argue, he goes right back to what he was saying, as if we were never interrupted. “Helping you with those things has been an honor, Kensie, and not something I’d like to give up.”
“Okay…” I say slowly, still not really understanding what he’s getting at here.
“I think I can do a better job of helping you with your exploration if I behave more like myself—more like a Dom. In other words, I think it will be better for both of us if I have more control.”
I chew on my bottom lip. “Does that mean I won’t tell you my fantasies anymore?”
He tugs my lip from my teeth, eyes darkening. “Not at all. I always want to hear what excites you, what you’re curious about. But instead of you requesting that I meet you to enact a specific fantasy, you’ll trust me to call the shots.”
“So I wouldn’t know ahead of time what we’re doing?” That doesn’t sound too bad, actually. It’s a little exciting.
“Exactly. I’ll arrange where and when we meet and I’ll decide what we do.”
Heat begins to pulse in my stomach at the thought. Grant making plans for us. Grant surprising me. Grant in control. Yeah, I like that a whole lot.
“If something isn’t working for you, you can always tell me,” he continues. “That’s part of your job as a sub.”
I nod, ready to agree, but Grant isn’t done yet.
“You’ll also allow me to be your Dominant outside of our sexual scenes.”
I freeze. “What does that mean?” Because it sounds a lot like a relationship outside of sex. And that is definitely not what I signed up for.
“Domination and submission aren’t just in the bedroom, Kensie,” he tells me.
“Being your Dom means I get to check on you, make sure you’re okay.
It means you let me know how your day goes and accept my help.
” I open my mouth to argue, but he places his thumb over my lips to stop me.
“It doesn’t mean I’m your boyfriend, so you can stop that panicking right now. ”
“It sure sounds like it,” I say against his thumb, sullen, and he laughs, giving my lips a little pinch.
“I have had many submissives over the years,” he says, and my stomach does that leaden thing again. “But I’ve never had a girlfriend. I do know the difference.”
“You’ve never had a girlfriend?”
He shakes his head, gaze intent on mine.
“No. That’s not what this is about.” He leans in even closer.
“I want you to let me treat you the same way I’ve treated my other subs.
With respect and care but also authority.
If you feel unsafe, I want to be the one you come to.
” His jaw clenches and I wonder if he’s thinking about the flowers.
“If I’m concerned that you’re working too much or not getting rest, I want to be able to guide you. ”
There’s a part of me that wants to argue—isn’t what he’s saying akin to how an adult might treat a child? But I have to admit to myself there’s also a part of me that’s not turned off by what he’s saying. Not at all.
When Jane first told me about Club Wyld, she’d mentioned that she could tell I was a submissive from a mile away. I had no idea how, or even if she was right. I was afraid that she was confusing submission for me being broken down by my ex.
But almost as soon as I started spending time with Grant, I began to wonder if she had been right after all.
Maybe my submissive side was something natural within me, not at all related to my shitty relationship.
I’d asked him if we could experiment with that side, with light restraints and spankings and him being in charge, and he’d been more than happy to help.
I’ve never been more sure of the existence of that sub side than I am right now—because hearing these words from Grant makes me feel comforted in a way I’ve never known.
The idea of him taking care of me—outside of sex—makes me feel warm and safe.
The very opposite of how I felt with Fred’s unwanted control.
“You trust me,” Grant breaths out in my ear. “I can see it all over your face.”
“I do,” I agree. “I always have.”
He sighs, as if in relief. “Then trust me with this. Let me take charge for a while and see how it feels."
“I can tell you if it’s too much?”
“Always,” he says firmly.
I stare into his eyes, waiting for any twinge of discomfort, any warning instinct in my gut to make itself known. But all I feel is calm. Sure.
“Okay,” I whisper, and the smile that lights up Grant’s face takes my breath away.
He leans in and presses a kiss to my mouth.
It immediately becomes hard, insistent, his tongue darting out against my lips to demand access.
He chooses that moment to slide the hand and my thigh up and under my dress, making me gasp.
That gasp is all the invitation he needs to plunder my mouth, his tongue taking the opportunity of my parted lips to thrust inside. It strokes against mine while his hand pushes farther up my thigh. Only when his fingers brush my panties do I try to pull back.
He releases me, breathing heavily, and I feel a thrill of pride knowing he’s as affected as I am. Maybe I even smirk a little, because his eyes narrow.
“Eat your creme br?lée,” he says in a deceptively casual voice that sends a chill down my back.
“Yes, sir.” My voice is just this side of sassy, and Grant shakes his head.
“It’s like you want to be in trouble.”
He has a point—being in trouble with Grant has always led to highly enjoyable moments for me. And tonight seems to be no exception. As soon as I take a bite of my dessert, his hand pushes back between my thighs without warning.
I gasp, squirming away, but he’s relentless. “Eat your dessert,” he growls.
“Grant—” There’s a sting on my upper thigh and I gasp again. He just spanked me, right here in the restaurant.
“Do I need to feed you?” He asks evenly as his fingers push under my panties. His mouth finds my ear. “You’re getting wet for me already.”
“What are you—we can’t!” I squeak out. “We’re in public.”
“No one can see what we’re doing,” he soothes, then his tongue darts out to lick my earlobe. “Now be a good girl and eat that dessert while I enjoy this sweet little cunt.”
Oh my God. I can’t believe this is happening. His fingers are moving slowly, almost languidly, sliding my growing wetness along my pussy. Every once in a while, they brush my clit and I have to fight not to jolt against the leather seat.
“I wonder though,” he says thoughtfully. “Would you really mind if one of these patrons realized what was happening? If they knew you were getting finger fucked under this table?”
A jolt of heat runs through me and he chooses that moment to thrust two fingers inside me. I can’t hold back my gasp and Grant chuckles. “If you keep making noises like that, I’ll know you want to get their attention.” He nips my ear. “I think I told you to eat your dessert, Kensie.”
My hands are shaking as I obey, bringing my spoon to my mouth. The custard is sweet and creamy on my tongue and I try to concentrate on the taste so I don’t come in the middle of this restaurant.
But Grant clearly has a different agenda. He angles his fingers up to brush against my g-spot at the same time his palm comes down to grind against my clit. My spoon clatters to the table and I bury my head in his shoulder as the orgasm slams into me.
“That took about ten seconds,” he says drily. “I think it’s safe to say you like playing in public, hmm?”
I can’t answer. He slides his hand from between my legs and I watch as his fingers slip into his mouth. He groans softly. “I guarantee that pussy tastes better than my dessert will.”
It takes a long time to catch my breath. Grant eats his chocolate cake like he doesn’t have a care in the world, like he didn’t just make me come all over his fingers in a public restaurant.
Meanwhile, my brain feels completely scrambled. Only one clear thought breaks through—if this is what Grant meant by being my Dom outside the club, he can go ahead and sign me right up.