Chapter 12 #2
Finally, his hand eased from my hair as he lifted off me, his palm smoothing down my back with a gentleness that undid me all over again.
“You were perfect,” he murmured. “My perfect, bratty girl.”
Perfect. I swallowed hard, the word hitting harder than the flogger, harder than the paddle, harder than his cock driving into me until I begged.
Perfect wasn’t a word I’d ever trusted. Perfect was for women who weren’t too much, who didn’t mouth off, who didn’t push every button a man had just to see what would happen.
And yet, lying there trembling, raw and wrung out, Ford’s voice so full of praise, I believed him. Maybe, perfect wasn’t about being flawless. Maybe, perfect was about being seen exactly as I was—bratty, defiant, damaged, even—and having him accept me anyway.
The ache in my body deepened, not from pain but from something far more dangerous: want. Want for more of this. More of him. More of the way he stripped me down, shattered me, and still managed to put me back together so I was whole again.
I both loved and hated how much I liked it.
My body was wrecked. I felt emptied out and overflowing at once, floating in a haze I didn’t want to leave. I exhaled a deep, shaky breath, my cheek still pressed against the leather pad. “I don’t…I don’t think I can move.”
Ford helped me to stand, then lifted me into his strong arms and carried me to a couch in the corner of the room.
He sat down with me on his lap, draped a light blanket over my naked body, then cradled me against his bare chest so I was nice and warm.
I sagged against him, uncaring of how clingy I might look.
I felt utterly fatigued, but it was the most pleasant exhaustion I’d ever had.
This time, I didn’t push Ford away as he tended to me.
I just let him go through the motions. He made me drink a bottle of water from the small refrigerator in the room, and had me eat some cheese and crackers and fed me chocolate.
He stroked his hands over my body, almost petting me, murmuring those words of praise that felt like stitches in places I never thought I’d heal.
He threaded his fingers through my hair, and made me feel cared for.
A luxury and intimacy that was foreign to me.
It was a long while before I trusted myself to speak.
Normally, I was never short on words, always ready with a quip, always quick with some smart remark.
But now? I had nothing. My body felt deliciously wrecked, my mind floating in a haze where words didn’t matter.
I just felt so worn out and beautifully in my body, all my thoughts fled because I felt, scarily enough, safe.
Safe. With a man. An unnerving realization, for sure.
And still…I knew I couldn’t give this up.
What Ford had given me wasn’t just amazing—it was a revelation.
I was stunned by how good the release was, not just physically, but emotionally.
Mentally. Our first scene together had been incredible, but this?
I hadn’t understood how much aftercare mattered, or how much it meant to trust Ford as my dom and lower my guard enough to let him be in charge.
Rebellion was fun, but surrender with Ford was sweeter. And god help me, I wanted both.
I glanced up into Ford’s handsome face. He didn’t show any sign of impatience with me, or of wanting this aftercare to end so we could leave. Despite how intense our scene had just been, his expression was calm and relaxed, like he’d unloaded as much tension and stress as I had.
“Thanks,” I finally said, my voice quiet but steady. “And…I really am sorry for making your job as a dom harder. I had no idea how much I needed…this.”
He lifted his hand and gently brushed a few strands of hair from my face, his eyes warm. “I want to give this kind of aftercare to you,” he said, his tone genuine. “I push you hard during a scene, but taking care of you afterward is my job, and my privilege. That’s how this works.”
I swallowed hard and stared at his throat. “You make it sound so easy.”
“It is.” His thumb glided over my cheek before he tucked his fingers beneath my chin and tipped my head back, making me look into his eyes. The corner of his mouth curved in a faint smile. “Can I suggest something without you biting my head off?”
I caught the amusement in his tone. “I can’t promise anything,” I said dryly. “But you can try.”
His smile deepened. “I think you really needed this kind of scene, and I’d like to keep giving it to you, if you’re open to that.”
“How do you mean?” I asked, my voice softer, and more interested, than I’d intended.
He tilted his head slightly, still holding my gaze.
“You’re a brat, Violet, and it’s a part of what makes you so damn irresistible to me.
But underneath that defiance and stubborn attitude, I think you’re looking for a space where it’s safe to stop fighting.
A space where you can let go, submit, and know you’re still respected and you don’t have to change anything about who you are.
That’s what I can give you as a dom. The freedom to push, and the safety to fall apart and let go without judgment or shame. ”
I exhaled a shaky breath, my fingers knotting in the blanket as I spoke before I lost the courage.
“You know…nobody has ever said anything like that to me.” My voice wavered, but I pressed on, leaning in to the way Ford idly stroked my back with his other hand.
“I’ve always had to take care of myself.
Always had to be the one in control, the one who doesn’t need anything.
Always keeping up my guard and being tough.
I’m defiant because it’s the only way I know how to… exist and protect myself.”
I swallowed hard and forced myself to finish, despite how vulnerable it made me feel. “But you’re right. Part of me does want this. A safe space where I don’t have to fight. Where I can trust someone to be in control so I can…let go.”
I hesitated while he remained quiet, listening intently, seemingly processing all I just said. “I’m not saying I won’t still be stubborn and defiant with you,” I went on. “I probably will. It’s who I am. But I want to try this with you. I think…I think I need it.”
For a heartbeat, Ford just continued to look at me, and I could see a shift in his expression. Not surprise at everything I’d admitted, but something deeper. Pride. Recognition. A kind of protectiveness that stole the breath from my lungs.
He reached out and cupped the back of my neck with his hand, his fingers warm against my skin, his hold gentle.
“Thank you for telling me that about yourself. I know that wasn’t easy to share and you don’t owe me any explanations.
” His thumb stroked a slow line up my throat, pausing just beneath my chin until I looked up at him.
“But understanding those parts of you helps me to take better care of you. Helps me to know how hard to push, how much you can take, and when to pull back.”
I nodded in understanding, my traitorous pulse fluttering under his touch.
“I’m still going to test your limits,” he went on, a delicious promise in his tone.
“I’m still going to make you behave and submit when we’re in a scene.
That’s part of what you crave. But you’re also going to know, every time, that you’re safe when you give yourself over to me.
That I’ve got you, and you can trust me to give you everything you need. If you’ll let me.”
What Ford was offering should have scared me.
Instead, it felt like a door cracking open into a room I’d been pacing outside of for years, tempting me to walk through.
I’d built my whole life being untouchable, on not needing anyone.
And yet here I was, trembling under Ford’s expert touch, wanting the very thing I’d always told myself I didn’t need.
This didn’t have to be forever, I told myself. I wasn’t agreeing to love, or even to a relationship. I was agreeing to a short term affair with Ford while he was my bodyguard. Lessons in BDSM with a man I trusted. A contained world I could step into and out of without losing myself.
“I—I think I’d like that,” I told him, decision made, despite any potential emotional pitfalls. “I’d like to do this. With you.”
Relief softened his features, and he stroked a hand gently through my hair. “We don’t ever have to do anything you don’t want to do. That’s what your safeword is for and I’ll respect it any time you might use it. We’ll discuss your boundaries, and make sure you always feel comfortable.”
Needing to gain some kind of control over my messy feelings after everything I’d just revealed, I opted for humor. “Careful, Ford,” I said, flashing him a teasing grin. “You’re starting to sound like a doting boyfriend.”
His mouth curved, but his voice remained even. “Don’t worry, Trouble. I know exactly what this is. And I know exactly what it isn’t.”
Some of the tightness in my chest eased at that. He wasn’t pretending this was more than it was. That honestly made it easier to breathe.
Ford kept me close for another long moment, then said, “Why don’t I drive you back to your place? We’ll both shower, and then we’ll get something to eat.”
That sounded annoyingly like a date. My pulse initially spiked, but I forced myself to reason it through. This wasn’t about romance. This was what a dom was supposed to do for his sub. Taking care of someone after sex didn’t mean a lifetime commitment.
I nodded. “Sure.” Then, before I could talk myself out of it, I added quietly, “Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me,” he said, eyes holding mine. “This is part of the deal. You give me your submission, I give you my care. That’s how it works.”
The words settled in my chest like something I could get addicted to if I wasn’t careful. I told myself again this wasn’t love, wasn’t forever, wasn’t even a relationship. Just a dom and his brat. Just a short-term arrangement that made me feel more alive, in ways nothing else ever had.
Still, when he offered me his hand after we’d dressed, I took it without hesitation. And when he led me out of the room, I let him.
But even as I followed, I started stacking bricks back around my heart and emotions. Because men didn’t stay, and certainly not with a woman like me. And I refused to let Ford become a weakness I regretted after this was over.