Chapter 9 #2
Mountain peaks pierced the darkening sky beyond vast windows, while the last rays of sunlight spilled across Rawhide Ranch’s rolling landscape below.
Her gaze traveled up pine-clad beams to where the cathedral ceiling created an illusion of opening the space to the heavens.
Nature and architecture merged seamlessly with the iron chandelier overhead echoing the surrounding forest’s wild beauty in the intricate metalwork hanging from its center.
The effect was both intimate and expansive, as if they dined in a secluded clearing high above the world.
White linen draped each table with the pristine cloth being offset by delicate maroon napkins wrapped around polished silverware.
Her pulse quickened when their server guided them to the outdoor patio.
Sienna loved being outside as the setting secured her need for freedom.
She wondered if Crone had somehow known she would be more relaxed surrounded by the clean mountain air when he chose this specific table.
“I never realized such beauty existed beyond the Ranch’s boundaries,” she said in awe. “This is… magical.”
“I am honored to be the one to share this experience with you.”
Sienna’s gaze drifted to Crone across the table.
Another man might have offered those words as empty flattery, a calculated move to lower her defenses.
But Crone’s raw honesty had already carved through her walls.
He wielded truth like others wielded charm, and that made him dangerous in an entirely different way.
He lounged in his chair with predatory grace with one hand wrapped around a glass of mojito. Nothing about his sprawled form suggested vulnerability or carelessness. Instead, he reminded her of a coiled serpent that was deceptively relaxed yet vibrating with contained power. Ready to strike.
The memory of his thumb against her throat sent fresh heat curling through her belly.
His touch had awakened a raw, primal need within her.
Desire simmered beneath her skin and she was hyperaware of every shift of his muscles and the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.
The intensity in his silvery eyes told her he knew exactly what effect he had on her, and he was in no hurry to ease the tension building between them.
“Why are we here, Master Crone?” The question burst from her lips before she could second-guess herself.
“Crone, Sienna. Drop the Master... at least until later tonight.” The silken threat in his voice sent liquid fire racing through her veins.
Lifting the mojito, she used the moment to rebuild her defenses.
The title Master served as armor, a way to maintain distance.
She suspected he was all too aware of her strategy.
Every Dom she had scened with since her arrival lived in that carefully constructed box in her mind.
It was the only way she could keep their associations clinical and controlled.
She needed that box to keep it uncomplicated with no probing questions about her past or expectations beyond the scene itself.
Least of all to allow anyone the chance of them burrowing beneath her skin and destroying the walls she had built around her heart.
Crone Lange refused to stay in that box. Right from the start, he had skillfully invaded her defenses. Her body hummed with overwhelming feelings, yet she craved more. The simple act of dropping “Master” threatened everything she’d worked to protect.
The battle was still waging inside her whether to comply when the words escaped from deep within her, “Why are we here, Crone?”
“Good girl.” He smiled briefly but his gaze remained sharp and focused on her. “How did you find the whipping last night, little one?”
Her response meshed into an unintelligible mumble. His eyebrow lifted. She stared in fascination at the silver streak as the scar caught the light. She burned with the desire to ask how he got it, but his dark voice drew her attention back to his question.
“Sienna.” Her name carried gentle reproof. “No Dom appreciates a mumbling sub. Sharing how the scene affected you is an integral part of aftercare. This is our talk, and as such, I’m not going to let you walk away from it.”
Heat crept up her neck as she gathered her thoughts. How could she explain that the devastating cracks of his whip had mirrored the fracture in her carefully constructed walls? That his steady voice had guided her back when the familiar void beckoned?
“It was... different from other Doms since I arrived.” She traced the rim of her glass.
“When you wrapped your hand around my throat, I should have panicked. Instead…” The memory of his touch ghosted across her skin.
In that moment, trust had bloomed, a feeling so complete and foreign it was terrifying in its intensity.
Their connection had materialized as his presence wrapped around her soul in a quiet vow to keep her safe.
Something deep within her recognized and welcomed his silent promise to protect and understand without demands.
“Instead?” he prompted softly.
“I felt secure… safer than I have ever felt with anyone else.” The admission cost her. “But I don’t understand why. You’re essentially a stranger, yet something inside me recognized you.” She swallowed hard. “That scares me more than the whip ever could.”
“Good girl.”
Frustration surged through her. If she wasn’t seated, she’d be stomping her feet at how those two simple words cocooned her in warmth. When Stan had used them, they’d scraped like sandpaper against her skin. But from Crone, they felt like… home.
“I understand your fears better than you may realize, little one. I had to have a long talk with myself last night. As much as you were affected, I was too.” He smiled grimly.
“That’s exactly why I’m not rushing this.
” His voice carried the same steady authority that had guided her through last night’s scene.
“What’s building between us is too important to risk by moving too fast.”
A knot loosened in her chest. He understood her fear wasn’t rejection of him, but terror of her own response to him.
“Last night, you gave me your emotional trust.” His fingers brushed hers where they twisted the napkin. “You allowed me past those carefully constructed walls. Tonight…” His eyes darkened. “Tonight, we work on physical trust. Small steps, little one. Each one at your pace.”
She released a shaky breath. “And if I never get there?”
“Then we deal with that if it happens. But I don’t believe that’s what truly concerns you.
” The gentle circles his thumb traced on her wrist soothed her anxiety.
“You’re afraid because you know you’re already halfway there.
Your submission calls to my dominance on a level that transcends scenes in the Dungeon. ”
Heat bloomed where he touched her, and she couldn’t deny the truth in his words. The connection between them defied her careful boxes and safety nets.
“Trust goes both ways, Sienna.” His voice deepened. “I trust you to be honest with me, to tell me when it’s too much. In return, I give you my word that I will never push you faster than you can handle. We are going to explore this together.”
His words wrapped around her like a physical caress. Each gentle stroke of his thumb against her wrist sent sparks of awareness skating across her skin.
“How do you do that?” The question slipped out before she could filter it.
“Do what, little one?” But the knowing gleam in his eyes told her he understood exactly what she meant.
“Make me feel…” She swallowed hard as his fingers trailed up her forearm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “Everything.” She all but palpitated as he lifted her hand to his lips. “Too much.” Her clit throbbed as he placed a warm kiss in her palm. “Not enough.”
“Because you’re already attuned to my touch.
That’s the beauty of a shared experience through a therapeutic whipping session.
Last night, because we both needed it, the impact was more intense.
It was mutual.” His voice dropped an octave lower.
“Which is why I am tuned to every small reaction of your body.” As if to prove his point, his fingers found that sensitive spot at her inner elbow.
He smiled at the sharp intake of breath. “Like that.”
Heat pooled low in her belly. She should pull away to a much needed distance. Instead, she found herself leaning into his touch, craving more of this slow-building fire.
“Your pupils are dilating,” he murmured.
“Your breath quickens when I touch you here.” Another deliberate caress.
“Your skin flushes such a pretty pink for me.” His eyes held hers.
“I intend to learn every way your body responds to me, Sienna. But first…” He withdrew his hand as their server approached with their appetizers. “First, we eat.”
The loss of contact left her trembling with desire humming just beneath her skin. Somehow she knew this was just the beginning. The way his eyes glowed warned her that he planned to keep her on this knife’s edge of arousal throughout dinner.
The evening passed in a haze of sensation.
His measured caresses and deep, dangerous voice paired with his scorching gaze kept her hovering on the rim of sanity.
Later, she couldn’t recall what she’d eaten since her awareness had narrowed to the symphony of desire he orchestrated with devastating precision.
By the time he guided her to his truck, her legs could barely support her. As he reached for the door handle, she gathered her courage and turned to face him.
“Master Crone?” Her voice hitched but she moseyed forth. “Would you please take me to one of the private rooms at the Ranch and”—she drew a steadying breath—“fuck me to kingdom come?”
Desire blazed in his eyes at her boldness. “Did you think for one second I was going to leave you at the employee apartment entrance with a chaste kiss on the brow, little one?”
“A girl has to be sure.” The words had barely left her mouth when shame crashed over her. Her earlier brazenness felt like betrayal and hypocrisy, of herself and the careful walls she had built.
“No.” His voice cut through her spiral. “You’re not going to overthink this and you are definitely not going to retract into that void we pulled you out of last night.”
She stared at him, stunned by how easily he read her. “I just—”
“You just asked me a very appropriate and very brave question, little one.” She trembled at the deliberate grace with which he drew her against him to grind his arousal against her.
“One that landed in the right place.” He smiled wryly.
“If you hadn’t, I would seriously need to work on my seduction techniques. ”
He reiterated his response with a dramatic sigh that startled a giggle from her—a sound she immediately tried to swallow. She never giggled!
“Oh,” she puffed as his arms tightened around her. “Your techniques seem to be working just fine.”
“Good, since I booked a private room for us already.” He hesitated briefly. “Or we could go to the house I’m temporarily renting at the employee housing on the Ridge. The choice is yours.”
Her heart warmed that he offered her the right to choose, which showed his level of integrity.
Strangely, she had no fear of being alone with him in an intimate setting.
She scraped her nails across her palm. “Perhaps… just to avoid the snickering and knowing looks in the morning, would you mind if we go to your house?”
“I wouldn’t mind at all, little one.”
His voice held wicked promises that sent anticipatory shivers down her spine. “Well, there’s definitely nothing wrong with your confidence, Master Crone.”
“With you, I am more scared than confident, but a man has to plan ahead, little one. That’s the key to positive manifestation.”
“Just what a girl wants to hear,” she snickered as she got into the car, blinking up at him with a cheeky grin. “And here I thought it was my sexy smile, not my manifestation properties.”
His expression softened as he leaned in, claiming her lips in a heated kiss.
“It’s more than that, kitten. So much more. It’s you… perfect in every way. The entire package.”
Watching him circle the truck, ice crystallized around her heart.
Perfect. The word mocked her. Would he still think so when her clothes came off?
When he saw the brutal scars marring her breasts and the cruel hook-shaped mutilation misshaping her belly?
The physical reminders of why she had built those walls in the first place?
Her fingers pressed against her stomach, searching for the raised ridge of scar tissue through her shirt. Soon he would see and he would know. And then... then she’d find out if his beautiful words could survive ugly truths.