Chapter Twenty
Sloane
“Mr. Pierce, you’re… early.”
His blonde hair is still wet, falling in his eyes. I refrain from reaching out and touching him. Not until I have him alone.
“Are you ready for me?” I ask.
Oliver licks his lips. “I just… need to grab my jacket.”
“I’ll wait.”
Oliver nods as he closes the door, but it bumps against the ledge and props open just a sliver. I shift my body just slightly, enough I can peek inside. I can’t see much, but I don’t need to.
All I see is a clean, open-space and Oliver stretching his long, lithe arms through the sleeves of a jacket that is far too short for him.
When he comes out and closes the door, he looks a bit flustered.
“You don’t have to keep picking me up, you know," he says.
I turn and head to the car, Oliver on my heels.
“I know," I say. “But perhaps I like your company.”
And being in your presence means I can protect you from wicked ex-boyfriends who like to take things that don’t belong to them.
I can almost feel Oliver rolling his eyes, and I can’t help but smirk.
When we get to the car, I open his door and don’t miss the smile on his face.
For a moment, I don’t turn the car on. I pull out my phone, casually acting as if I am checking my email or my messages, but what I am really doing is activating my car’s Veil.
The windows tint, but he doesn’t notice.
A faint click whirs, turning the car on.
To the average person, I’m sure it only looks like I’m starting my car.
I lean over just a hair, into Oliver’s space.
His gaze flashes to my mouth, and for a moment I think he’s going to recant, to backtrack on what happened yesterday. But he doesn’t.
He leans in ever so slowly, his gaze hovering on my mouth.
I count to five, waiting for him to make a move, but he doesn’t.
Because he’s waiting for me to do it.
I smirk as I bring my lips closer to his.
“Do you want to kiss me, Oliver?” I ask, my voice low.
He sucks in a deep breath. “Yes, Sir.”
I graze my lips over his, and he parts them without hesitation.
“Then kiss me,” I whisper.
I wait to see if he will take the lead. If he will obey me.
If he will exert that little spark of dominance I know is dying to be freed from inside of him.
“I will not stop you,” I tell him.
Oliver leans in just an inch, his breath catching in his throat and for a moment, I think he’s not going to do it. That he’s doing to defy me and be a little brat. But that’s not what he does.
He leans in, ever so softly, and kisses me.
It’s not a rush of fire, not a force of nature. It’s a slow, agonizing kiss. He slips his tongue into my mouth, placing his hand on my throat. His fingers curl around it, teasing the edge of my hair at the nape of my neck.
He doesn’t squeeze or try to choke me. I feel the heat from his palm, as if he is nervous.
I break away for a moment, licking my lips.
“What did I tell you about being nervous?” I ask.
“To tell you if I am. Sir.”
“Mmm. Are you? Nervous, little Rabbit?”
Oliver lets out a sharp breath. “Yes, Sir.”
I find his hand with my own, sliding my fingers through his.
I squeeze his hand, the movement applying the faintest pressure to my throat.
“Do you know what a safeword is, Oliver?” I ask carefully.
“A what?” His voice is shaky, his lip quivering. I feel his pulse against my throat racing.
“A safeword.” I lick my lips, finding his gaze with my own. “It’s a word you can use to stop when things feel like too much.” I graze my lips over his. “It’s most often used in… more intimate situations. When things get overwhelming or uncomfortable.”
“What is it? What’s the word?” he asks, and the innocence in his voice is damn near heartbreaking.
I shouldn’t pursue him because of this alone. I don’t want to hurt him. But I also want him to understand that I will never push him into anything he doesn’t consent to. This isn’t a language everyone speaks, but it’s mine.
He may not understand, but I have to try and make him understand.
“Mine will be different from yours," I say. “You pick the word. There is no wrong choice. Only your choice.”
Oliver looks up at me, his green eyes glistening with what almost look like tears.
“My… choice?” he says like I’m speaking another language. Perhaps I am. But this… this is the only language I know how to speak when it comes to my private life.
“Yes, Oliver. You choose. You don’t have to choose now. You can change your mind, too. But whatever you decide, I want you to tell me, okay?”
He leans in and kisses me, his hand beneath mine squeezing my neck lightly.
“Okay,” he says, pulling away.
I let him go and turn the car on, neither of us saying a word. Oliver leans back in his seat, and the sun starts to rise, peeking through the clouds.
I reach over with one hand, setting it on his thigh.
“PUP," I say, clearing my throat as we pull up to a stop light. The cars are starting to populate now.
“Huh?” Oliver looks at me.
“My safeword. It’s PUP.”
Oliver raises an eyebrow. “Like a puppy?”
I chuckle. “No. But I can see how you would think that.”
Oliver gives me a glare.
“Potentially Unwanted Program," I say as the light turns green.
“PUP," he says, tasting the word on his tongue. “I think I get it.”
I give him a soft smile.
“If I say that, you’ll know I want you to stop whatever it is you’re doing. And you’ll stop. No questions asked.”
Oliver nods, but looks confused.
“What?”
“Why not just say… stop?” he asks, his voice almost far away.
“Because sometimes people think stop means yes," I say carefully. “And sometimes… with informed consent, it can be a yes.”
“Oh," he says, chewing his lip.
“And other times… it may be hard to say stop. Which is why your word holds the power not just to stop, but to express your discomfort, too. Mentally. Physically. Emotionally.”
It gets quiet for a moment.
“Jabberwocky," he says carefully.
“Hmm?”
“Jabberwocky. It’s… a poem. About a monster that gets slain.”
I keep my eyes on the road as we head into the city.
“A monster, huh?”
Oliver nods. “Lewis Carrol wrote it. It… it’s a bunch of nonsense words, but the part that always stuck out to me was the part about the vorpal blade. Cutting the Jabberwocky to pieces.”
“I see.” I turn past the Veil corporate offices. “So if you say Jabberwocky, I will know to slay the monster. I will strike the moment with a vorpal blade.”
“And if you say PUP, I’ll know to crash the program because it’s unwanted.”
I give him a reassuring smile. “Yes.”
“Where are we going?” he asks, turning in his seat. “The office is—”
“We aren’t going to the office today,” I tell him nonchalantly.
“We’re… not?” He looks at me with confused green eyes.
“You didn’t think we’d be confined to an office every day, did you?” I tease him.
“I—”
“We have many things to do today, and none of them require sitting behind my desk or staring at your computer.”
He sits back in his seat and pouts, and the grin spreads on my face.
“Don’t pout, Oliver. I think you’re going to enjoy what I have planned today.”