12. Blake
TWELVE
Blake
Over the next few days, a new rhythm settles in—a routine that feels strangely domestic, almost comforting. Each morning, I head off to work, the hours consumed with strategy meetings and security briefings.
Meanwhile, Sophia spends her days with Jenna, learning the ins and outs of making coffee as the shop slowly takes shape. Construction on The Guardian Grind hums along, transforming the empty building into something warm and inviting.
Each evening when I return home, there’s a lightness to Sophia that wasn’t there before, a small victory with every skill she masters. It’s as if she’s reclaiming pieces of herself, one cup of coffee at a time.
The weight of everything she’s been through still lingers, but with each passing day, I see new signs of healing—small steps as she starts to figure out who she is and what she truly wants from life.
We’ve also been cautiously exploring our dynamic, testing the waters of power exchange. It’s a slow, delicate process woven into our routine like a thread of understanding and trust. With each conversation and every subtle shift in control, we discover new depths in ourselves and in each other, finding a balance that feels right for us.
“Honey, I’m home.” I push open the door, arms loaded with boxes. The scent of garlic and herbs fills the air, though there’s a hint of something… Burnt?
Sophia peeks around the kitchen doorway, a smudge of flour on her cheek. When she sees me, her eyes light up, and I can’t help but smile back. “Welcome home, darling. How was your day at the office?”
Her playful response brings a smile to my face.
I set the boxes down, drinking in the sight of her. The domesticity of it all sends a warmth spreading through my chest.
“Oh, you know, same old, same old. Saved the world, stopped a few bad guys, bought my woman clothes at the store, all before lunch.”
She rolls her eyes, brandishing a wooden spoon at me. “My hero. Now make yourself useful and unpack while I finish dinner.”
I snap a mock salute, grinning as she disappears back into the kitchen.
The clattering of pots and pans fills the air as I start unpacking. A timer dings, followed by a muffled curse.
“Everything okay in there?”
“ Fine! Everything’s fine! ” Her voice is slightly higher than usual.
I chuckle, imagining her frantic attempts to salvage whatever’s in the oven.
I saunter into the kitchen, wrapping my arms around her waist from behind. The heat from the stove warms my skin as I nuzzle her neck, inhaling the scent of her shampoo mixed with cooking spices.
“What’s on the menu tonight, chef?”
Sophia leans back into me, her body soft and pliant.
“Trying my hand at chicken parmesan. No promises on edibility.”
I squeeze her hips gently, pressing closer. The fabric of her dress is thin, and every soft curve presses against me.
“I’m sure it’ll be delicious, but you know…” I trail kisses along he r neck, feeling her shiver. “We could always skip straight to dessert.”
“Down, boy.” She squirms in my arms, her breath hitching. “This might taste good, and I won’t have you ruining my hard work.”
“It would be worth it.” I growl playfully, nipping at her earlobe.
“Behave, you can punish me for saying no later, but I want to try this dish.” Sophia turns in my arms, eyes sparkling with mischief.
I freeze. We haven’t incorporated punishments into our dynamic yet. The possibilities send a thrill down my spine, but she worries me. I tread exceptionally carefully in my role, navigating my way through the trauma of her past, looking for any landmines I might inadvertently set off.
I cock my head, studying her face. I take all my cues from her. She may be sublimely submissive, but she’s still in recovery following her trauma. As far as I’m concerned, she takes the lead in defining the limits of our budding dynamic.
I wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Punishments, huh? That could be... interesting.” I test the waters, watching her closely.
“I thought you might like that.” She blushes, the pink in her cheeks rivaling the sauce on the chicken.
That blush is my green light, but if her face ever pales, that’s my stop sign.
“Oh, I do.” I lean in, my voice dropping to a husky whisper. “I like it very much.”
“Hand only. No…” The timer dings again, saving us from the growing tension, but the color just drained from her face.
Sophia rises on her tiptoes, pressing a quick kiss to my lips. The taste of her, mixed with a hint of tomato sauce, makes me hunger for more.
“Can you set the table while I rescue dinner?”
While she takes care of dinner, I process what I witnessed. Punishments may be on her list, but I take them off mine… for now.
“I love my kinky girl.” I step back, watching as she bends to pull a slightly charred chicken parmesan from the oven. The sight of her, flushed from cooking and our flirting, stirs something primal inside me.
“Hush, you. Less talking, more table setting.” She throws a playful glare over her shoulder.
Grinning, I grab plates from the cupboard. The ceramic is cool against my heated skin.
“Yes, ma’am. Whatever you say, ma’am.”
“‘Ma’am’? Why are you calling me ma’am?” Sophia’s brow furrows in confusion.
“Fair’s fair, don’t you think?” I chuckle, setting the plates down on the counter.
“Huh?” She tilts her head, still not understanding.
“It only seems fair, considering you’ll call me ‘sir’ when dinner’s done.” I step closer, nuzzling her neck. My breath is hot against her skin.
Sophia squirms at my words, her breath catching. She turns in my arms, looping hers around my neck and pressing tight against me.
“I look forward to it.” Her voice turns husky. “But the ma’am thing makes me feel old.”
“Christ, Sophia. You’re killing me.” I take a step back, drinking in the sight of her flushed cheeks and bright eyes. I adjust my stance, acutely aware of how hard and aching I’ve become. “Now I’m hard.”
“You’re always hard around me. Completely insatiable.” She cuts me off with a playful shove, pushing me toward the dining area. “But later, big guy. It’s food time now. Playtime later.” Her eyes sparkle with mischief and promise.
I groan dramatically but comply, heading back to finish setting the table.
As I set the table, stealing glances at Sophia bustling around the kitchen, I’m struck by how far we’ve come in such a short time.
As for dinner, the burnt edges of the chicken add a smoky flavor that works. I make a show of savoring each bite, delighting in Sophia’s proud smile .
“This is delicious, babe. You’re getting better every day.”
“Thanks. I’ve been practicing.” She preens under the praise, her fork scraping against the plate as she takes another bite.
“I’m proud of you.” I reach across the table and take her hand. Her skin is soft against my calloused palm.
Sophia’s smile softens, her eyes misting slightly. She squeezes my hand; her thumb tracing patterns on my skin.
“It’s all thanks to you. You’ve given me a chance at a real life.”
“You did that yourself.” I shake my head, marveling at her strength.
We eat in comfortable silence, exchanging soft smiles and lingering looks. The clink of cutlery and the gentle hum of the refrigerator create a soothing backdrop to our meal.
My mind keeps drifting to her earlier comment about punishments. Excitement bubbles beneath the surface, but I need to navigate with the utmost care.
“So, what’s the verdict?” Sophia speaks up, her voice tinged with a hint of uncertainty.
“Well, the food’s decent, and the company’s not bad…” I pretend to consider it, tapping my chin thoughtfully.
“Jerk.” She kicks me playfully under the table, her laugh ringing like music.
“Seriously though, it’s good.”
“Just good?” Her smile slips.
“Better than good. It’s extraordinary, and there’s nowhere else I’d rather be than sitting across the table from you, eating this fantastic meal.” I capture her foot between mine, grinning. The warmth of her skin seeps through my socks.
Sophia’s smile softens, her eyes taking on a faraway look. She pushes a piece of chicken around her plate, suddenly lost in thought. The comfortable silence stretches for a moment, broken only by the soft clink of cutlery against the plate.
“Blake,” she says quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Can I ask you something?”
The sudden change in her tone makes me sit up straighter. “Of course, Soph. Anything. ”
She takes a deep breath as if steeling herself. When she meets my gaze again, her vulnerability catches me off guard.
“How can you...” she starts, then stops, swallowing hard before continuing. “After everything that’s happened and everything I’ve done, how can you want to be with me?”
The abrupt shift in conversation throws me for a moment, but I lean forward, ready to reassure her. The vulnerability in her eyes makes my heart ache.
“How can I not be fiercely and utterly attracted to you?” I meet her gaze steadily. “Your past does not define you. You’re so much more than that.”
“I don’t deserve you.” She blinks rapidly, emotion clouding her eyes. A tear slips down her cheek.
“Hey.” I move around the table to kneel beside her chair. The hardwood floor is unforgiving against my knees, but I barely notice. I brush away her tears with my thumb, cupping her face. “None of that. You deserve the world, Soph. And I intend on giving it to you.”
“Sorry, I’m an emotional mess today.” A strangled laugh escapes her. She leans into my touch, her skin warm against my palm. “I didn’t mean to ruin dinner with my insecurities.”
“Dinner’s not ruined. It was amazing.” As I clear the table, the clatter of dishes fills the air, and Sophia comes up behind me. She wraps her arms around my waist, pressing her cheek against my back.
“Thank you,” she murmurs, her breath warm through my shirt.
“For what?” I turn in her embrace, setting down the plates to cup her face in my hands. Her skin is soft, a contrast to the roughness of my palms.
“For being you.” Her voice is barely above a whisper, filled with emotion.
I lean down, pressing my forehead to hers. Our breath mingles, the taste of dinner still lingering.
“I’m all in, Soph. I want this… with you. Whatever comes next, we face it together.”
“Together.” A small smile plays on her lips. “That sounds nice.”
I kiss her then, soft and sweet, pouring all my feelings into it. She tastes of tomato sauce and hope, of new beginnings and second chances. When we part, both slightly breathless, I can’t help but grin.
“Now, about that punishment…”
“What punishment? I didn’t do anything wrong.” Sophia’s eyes widen, and a hint of sass enters her voice.
“Well, you did leave me hard and aching. I think that deserves some... correction, don’t you?” I cock an eyebrow, glancing pointedly down at my obvious arousal, then back up to meet her gaze.
We both pause, the air between us electric. Sophia’s lips curl into a smirk, her eyes darkening with desire. The shift is palpable as she slips into her submissive role.
“Yes, Sir,” she purrs, her voice low and sultry. “How would you like me to make amends?”
“Oh, I have a few ideas…” The sudden switch in her demeanor sends a jolt of arousal through me.
I take a deep breath, steadying myself. Punishments can be fun, but I have no intention of using my hand on her… ever.
I have better things in mind—like a night of delicious torment.
The world fades away. The apartment becomes our private paradise with its lingering warmth from the oven and the soft glow of the evening sun filtering through the curtains.