Chapter 6
6
MERI
M eri couldn’t breathe. Her heartbeat drummed a frantic, erratic rhythm against her ribs as she sat curled on Bear’s lap, her body betraying her in ways she couldn’t reconcile. She was supposed to be angry. Supposed to hate the fact that he had put her over his knee and spanked her like a misbehaving child. But instead, she was hot all over, her skin hypersensitive, her pulse thrumming with something unfamiliar.
She had never liked impact play. Not in the way others in the scene did. She had preferred Shibari, suspension, the violet wand and some other things. Sure, she’d accepted the occasional playful slap on her ass when she was deep in a scene, but it had never done much for her, stirred nothing more than the briefest sting before fading into the background of the moment.
But this? This was different.
Her breath was still uneven as she rested against Bear’s chest, his hand a solid, steady presence against the small of her back. He wasn’t speaking, wasn’t pressing, just waiting. Watching—always watching.
That was the worst part—how well he saw her. How easily he cut through the layers of defiance and survival instincts, how he refused to let her hide from herself.
She swallowed, her throat tight, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt before she forced herself to let go. He had stripped her of every excuse, every barrier she had thrown up since the moment he had dragged her out of that hell.
“Say it.” His voice was low, rough silk over steel, commanding without shouting, controlled without force.
Meri tensed. “Say what?”
Bear’s grip on her tightened just enough to remind her he would not let her retreat. “Say what you need to say.”
She clenched her jaw, every instinct screaming at her to shove him away, to claw back the distance between them, but her body refused to obey. It didn’t want distance… and that terrified her.
Her skin still tingled from the spanking, not just from the impact, but from the heat, the way it had set fire to something deep inside her, something she wasn’t ready to name.
“I don’t…”
“Don’t lie to me.” Bear’s voice cut through her hesitation like a surgeon’s blade, sharp and precise. “You think I can’t feel it? The way you’re holding yourself against me? The way you’re fighting to keep still?”
Her face flamed, the truth lodging in her throat. She didn’t know how to process this, how to accept that her body had responded to something she had never wanted before.
“I don’t understand,” she admitted, the words barely a whisper.
Bear’s fingers skimmed up her spine, light, reassuring, until his hand settled at the back of her neck. “I do.”
Meri swallowed hard. “I don’t like pain… don’t like impact play.”
“No, you don’t.” Bear’s lips brushed the top of her head, not quite a kiss, just the barest whisper of contact, enough to send another shiver through her. “That’s not what this was.”
She closed her eyes, her breathing still unsteady. “Then what was it?”
Bear tilted her chin up, forcing her gaze to meet his. “Discipline.”
Her stomach flipped, heat crawling over her skin. She had never considered it that way before. She had always seen impact play as a line she didn’t cross, something separate from the structure she had once craved, the kind of control that had given her a sense of peace in the past.
Bear didn’t give her room to run from it. “You fight yourself more than you fight me, little one. You’re so damn afraid of what you want, you refuse to even consider it.”
Meri stiffened, her nails digging into her palms. “You think I wanted that?”
His lips curled, a slow, knowing movement that sent something sharp through her chest. “I think your body answered that question for you.”
She yanked back, but he didn’t let her go far. His arm remained wrapped around her waist, holding her against him as if she belonged there.
“I don’t?—”
“Do not lie to me,” he warned again, his voice lower now, rougher, and damn her body, but it responded.
Meri shook her head, her breath coming faster, her body torn between escape and something else, something that pulsed between her thighs and made her squirm against him.
Bear noticed. Of course, he noticed. His grip tightened, his fingers flexing against her hip, but he didn’t push, didn’t demand.
“This isn’t about pain,” he murmured. “It’s about control. Structure. The same things you used to crave, the things that made you feel safe enough to relinquish control to another. You’ve convinced yourself that part of you is gone, but it’s not. It’s just buried under everything they did to you.”
Meri shook her head again, denial curling in her throat, but he didn’t let her speak. “It’s okay to need this,” he said, each word slow, deliberate, a promise wrapped in certainty. “It’s okay to want it.”
Her breath hitched, her nails pressing into his shirt. “I don’t know how.”
Bear shifted, moving her until she was straddling him, her thighs on either side of his hips, his hands steady at her waist. “Then let me teach you.”
A shudder ran through her, and damn it, she wanted to push him away, wanted to run, but instead, she stayed.
She stayed, because deep down, in the part of her that still existed despite everything, she knew he was right.
And that scared her more than anything.
Bear’s fingers traced slow, lazy circles against her lower back. “Say it.”
Meri clenched her jaw. “Say what?”
“What you want.”
She shook her head.
His grip tightened, his thumbs digging into her skin just enough to send a shiver down her spine. “Say it, little one.”
The words lodged in her throat. She couldn’t. If she said it, it would be real. If she admitted it, she wouldn’t be able to take it back.
Bear didn’t let up. “You want structure. You want discipline. You want someone to take control and let you breathe.”
Meri trembled, her body betraying her, her pulse racing, her nails dragging against his shoulders as she tried to hold on to herself.
Bear leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear. “Say it.”
She exhaled a shaky breath, her muscles locking down, and then—finally—she whispered, “I want it.”
Bear let out a satisfied sound, his hands sliding up her spine, holding her exactly where he wanted her.
“Good girl.”
Meri’s world tilted, her body shuddering at the two simple words, and she knew—knew—she had just crossed a line she couldn’t come back from, and for the first time in her life, she wasn’t sure she wanted to. She had always played at submission, but what Bear was talking about—offering—was real submission.
She shifted, moving so she could face him. Her breath came hard and fast as she sat straddling Bear’s lap, her thighs spread wide over his, the solid weight of him beneath her anchoring her in place. Her body was trembling, but not from fear. The heat that had been simmering beneath her skin had ignited into something uncontrollable, something she didn’t know how to handle.
She should be running. Should claw her way out of his grasp, putting as much distance between them as possible. But she wasn’t. Instead, she was gripping his shoulders, her nails pressing into thick muscle, her pulse hammering as she stared at him—waiting, wanting, but too afraid to move.
Bear’s fingers traced a slow path up her spine, setting off a shiver that left her gasping. He cupped the back of her neck, firm but not cruel, his thumb brushing along her jaw.
“You’re shaking,” he murmured.
Meri swallowed hard. “I don’t understand what’s happening.”
Bear tilted his head, watching her with the same steady patience that always stripped her bare. “Yes, you do.”
Her stomach clenched. No, she didn’t. Yes, she did.
Her body was betraying her, her brain short-circuiting under his gaze. It wasn’t just the physical. It wasn’t just the dominance, the control, the absolute authority in his posture, in his voice, in the way he touched her like he already knew every part of her.
It was the way he refused to let her disappear.
She had spent months learning how to vanish inside herself. How to block out the pain, the shame, the helplessness. It had been her only option, her only protection. Even now, she felt it pulling at her, whispering for her to shut down, to slip into numbness, to let herself fade.
But Bear wouldn’t allow it. His fingers flexed on her nape, a reminder. “You will not disappear on me,” he ordered, voice quiet but firm. “You will stay right here, and you will feel.”
Meri’s lips parted, her breath catching. She wanted to fight it. God, she wanted to fight it, but Bear saw straight through her.
His hand slid down to her hip, gripping her firmly. “Do you trust me?”
The question sent her spinning. Trust. It was such a foreign concept now, a language she no longer understood. And yet… she knew, deep in her bones, that Bear wouldn’t hurt her.
No one at Club Southside or Cerberus ever had. She might not have known Bear before, but she knew of him and if her brother and Fitzwallace trusted him, that meant she probably should as well.
“I don’t know how to answer that,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
Bear’s jaw ticked, his thumb brushing over her hipbone in slow, deliberate circles. “That’s fair. But you do know how to follow orders, don’t you, little one?”
Her stomach flipped, heat rushing over her skin. Yes. That was the one thing she understood.
“Yes.” The word barely made it out before Bear’s grip tightened, before his presence consumed her, pulling her deeper into his orbit.
His hands slid beneath the hem of the shirt she was wearing— his shirt—tracing slow, lazy lines up her bare thighs.
Meri’s breath shuddered.
“You want structure,” he murmured, his touch never straying too far, never taking more than she could handle. “You want discipline. You want someone strong enough to hold you together.”
She swallowed.
“Say it.”
“I…” Her fingers clenched in his shirt. She couldn’t.
Bear leaned in, his lips barely an inch from hers. “Say. It.”
A sharp whimper left her throat before she could stop it. “I need it.”
Bear’s grip tightened. “Good girl.”
Her body reacted to the words, warmth pooling low in her lower belly, her thighs clenching involuntarily.
Bear felt it. Of course he did. His hands slid higher—up to her ribs—his thumbs brushing just beneath her breasts. She gasped, arching slightly, her skin burning from the intensity of it. But he didn’t push.
Instead, he tilted his head, his dark gaze holding hers captive. “You’re waiting for me to tell you what happens next.”
She sucked in a breath. “Yes.”
His hand slid back to her hip, firm, possessive. “I want you to listen to me carefully, little one. This is not about breaking you or training you.” His voice dropped to a near growl, his dominance pouring over her like molten steel. “This is about showing you what you need. What you’ve always needed.”
Her thighs clenched around him, a shudder racing up her spine. Bear’s grip flexed, his fingers digging into her flesh in the most perfect way. Meri whimpered, torn between fear and need.
“I will take control, little one. I will give you exactly what you’re aching for.” His thumb traced small, teasing circles over her hip. “But you will ask me for it.”
Meri’s breath came in sharp little gasps, her head spinning. He wasn’t demanding. He wasn’t forcing. He was making her choose .
That was the difference. That was why this wasn’t like before.
Tears burned at the back of her throat, her body wound so tight she thought she might break apart… but she wouldn’t. Bear wouldn’t let her.
“Meri,” he murmured, tilting her chin up so she had no choice but to look at him. “Ask me.”
Her pulse hammered, her fingers shaking where they still clutched his shirt. Her world had never been more uncertain. But somehow, in his arms, she had never felt safer.
Her lips trembled. “Please,” she whispered.
Bear’s grip tightened. His gaze darkened.
And then, with all the dominance and control he had promised, he took exactly what she had given him. And for the first time in months, Meri felt.
Her whole body hummed with sensation, her skin hypersensitive, her muscles loose in a way she hadn’t felt in months. The air between them was thick, her pulse a slow, steady thud in her ears. Bear’s hands still rested on her hips, holding her firmly in place.
She should have been panicking. Should have been pulling away, retreating into the numbness that had become her safety net. But the numbness was gone. Bear had stripped it from her, leaving her raw and vulnerable in the best and worst possible way.
She inhaled sharply, but the sound caught in her throat.
Bear’s fingers flexed, his presence a steady force around her. “Breathe, little one.”
She tried. She really did, but the aftershocks from her reawakening feelings threatened to overwhelm her. Her body trembled, her chest tightening, something thick and unmovable sitting heavy in her ribs. She wasn’t ready for it, didn’t know how to handle it.
Bear shifted beneath her, wrapping an arm around her waist, pulling her in until she was fully against his chest. The move was effortless, like she belonged there, like he already knew exactly how to put her back together. His warmth seeped into her skin, grounding her, keeping her from slipping back into the void.
She swallowed hard, pressing her forehead against his collarbone. “I don’t…”
Bear stroked a hand up her back, slow and deliberate. “I know.”
Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, gripping it like a lifeline. The dam inside her cracked, the pressure building, but she fought it, refusing to let it break her completely.
She hated this part. The part where the walls came down, where the high from a scene faded, leaving her with nothing but the weight of everything she’d been holding in for too long.
Bear didn’t speak. He didn’t tell her she was safe again, didn’t demand that she explain herself, didn’t rush her through it. He just held her . Solid. Steady. Unmoving.
Her chest tightened further, the burn in her throat growing unbearable. Her whole body shook, her breaths coming in short, shallow bursts, but she fought it.
“You don’t have to do this,” she whispered, her voice barely holding together.
Bear’s lips brushed the top of her head, his grip firm but patient. “Do what?”
“Pretend like this means something.” She forced herself to lift her head, to meet his gaze even as her vision blurred. “I’m not like those women at the club who want a true Dom, Bear. I’m not some sweet little submissive who melts into her Dom’s arms and whispers thank you after a scene. I’m not… I can’t be…”
Bear’s thumb brushed across her cheek, wiping away the tear she hadn’t realized had fallen. Her breath hitched. He didn’t look surprised. Didn’t look disappointed. Just sure .
“You’re exactly who you’re supposed to be,” he said simply.
Meri bit the inside of her cheek, trying to keep from shattering completely. She hated crying. Hated the way it made her feel weak, exposed, open in ways she hadn’t allowed herself to be in so long.
Bear didn’t force her to look at him, demanded nothing from her. He just gathered her closer, one arm around her back, the other sliding into her hair, cradling her against him.
It was too much.
A broken sob escaped before she could stop it, her whole body jerking with the force of it. Bear’s arms tightened, his lips pressing a soft, steady kiss to her temple. She hated him for that. Hated the way he didn’t make this ugly, didn’t make her feel like she was falling apart.
She hated she needed this.
The tears kept coming, silent but heavy, soaking into his shirt, her shoulders shaking with the effort of keeping them from becoming full-body wracking sobs.
Bear never let go. Never loosened his grip. He just held on.
Until the storm eased, until the sobs faded into uneven breaths, until her body stopped fighting itself.
She felt wrecked. Exposed—completely shattered in a way she didn’t know how to process.
Bear’s fingers slid under her chin, tilting her face up to his. His dark eyes searched hers, steady and unyielding, like he was looking straight into the places she kept locked down.
“Better?” he murmured.
Meri swallowed hard. “I don’t know.”
Bear’s thumb traced a slow line over her cheek, his voice quieter this time. “That’s okay.”
She should have pulled away. Should have untangled herself from his warmth and put as much space between them as possible. Instead, she stayed wrapped in his arms. Safe.
She wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, just breathing together. Minutes. Hours. A lifetime.
Eventually, Bear shifted and stood, lifting her in his arms and walking towards the bed. “You need sleep.”
Meri tensed, her body instinctively recoiling. She hated sleeping. Hated the way it left her vulnerable, the way the nightmares clawed at her the second she let herself slip under. Bear felt it too. Of course he did.
His fingers brushed the back of her neck, soothing. “I’ve got you.”
The words hit harder than she wanted them to.
Meri wet her lips, her pulse hammering. “This isn’t love.”
Bear’s eyes darkened, something flickering behind them. “I never said it was.”
Her stomach twisted as he set her down, something sharp and painful curling deep in her chest. She wasn’t ready for this. She wasn’t capable of this, and that was the scariest thing of all.
Meri’s fingers curled into his shirt, gripping tight one last time before she forced herself to let go. She eased back just enough to put space between them, forcing the world back into focus.
Bear didn’t stop her—didn’t pull her back—his eyes never left hers.
“You need to sleep,” he repeated, his voice quieter this time. “You’ll rest better if I’m here.”
Meri swallowed hard. “That’s not…”
“Not what?”
She didn’t have an answer.
Bear reached up, brushing one last tear from her cheek. “Lay down, little one.”
Meri hesitated for only a second before giving in. Not because she trusted him. Not because she needed him. But because, just for tonight… she didn’t want to be alone.