Chapter 20
CHAPTER
TWENTY
IMANI
As soon as I come out of the bathroom, Blake grabs the nape of my neck and marches me out of the restaurant, herding me back to our room.
“Imani—” they begin, and I immediately know that I don’t want to hear whatever follows those words.
I smack Blake’s hand off my body and skip ahead of them, making a beeline for the Village.
“Imani, get back here right fucking now,” they growl.
Feigning lightness, I turn around and stick my tongue out at Blake.
Quickly, I give them my back and run away.
Inside, I am vibrating with fear. What is this regarding?
The interviews? I’ve gotten better. A serious talk about us?
I’m scared to have it. The worst possible scenario pops up in my mind, though, and I choke on air—what if Blake wants to talk about… my eating?
I know I haven’t done a good job of hiding it with them.
Most of our meals are centered around them trying to get me to “get some nutrition.” I never thought it would be so hard to hide, but I didn’t account for being in…
a thing… with another athlete. I can’t bullshit Blake; they eat for maximum performance; they have a nutritionist, too.
Sure, they’re achieving a different body type than I am, especially as a defenseman (look at me learning hockey!
Disgusting), but the ideology is much the same.
The fact of the matter is… I might have run out of excuses with them.
Blake watches me too closely for them not to notice what seems as apparent as a ticker tape parade.
I feel both my arms grasped at my elbows, stopping me in my tracks. Blake’s low voice sounds serious in my ear. “You can run from me, but you’re not running from this conversation.”
“What conversation?” I respond with saccharine sweetness.
“I think you already know, or you wouldn’t be bratting so fucking hard right now,” Blake continues in a measured manner.
“What’s the matter, Sir? Don’t you like it when I say no?” I taunt them, wiggling to try and escape again.
“You know I do. This isn’t about kink or sex, though. We need to have a serious talk right now. I’m not Sir; you’re not Cupcake.” Blake’s calloused palms press into my arms, reminding me that I’m carrying far too much fat on them.
“I don’t want not to be Cupcake; I like not being Imani with you,” I whine, trying for all I’m worth to find an exit strategy as my pulse ratchets higher and higher.
Maybe if I can just make it to the room; maybe if I can just weigh myself—that’ll calm me down.
I need to feel like I’m in control. And then I need to give my control to Sir.
They just need to stop this path of questioning.
“Wouldn’t it be nice if we finished the night with me tied up?
” I try to whisper as seductively as I possibly can, even though I’m fairly certain my voice shakes.
“Imani. You’re not going to get out of this conversation by bratting,” Blake growls, sounding as frustrated with me as I am with them.
“But what if I can?” I wheedle, grinding my ass against their stomach as I press my back into their tits, desperately trying to create enough friction to overtake their concern and replace it with desire.
Blake wraps their arms around my front like a human straitjacket.
“I… care about you. Do you know that?” Their head comes to rest on top of mine.
I feel utterly surrounded, and for once with them, it doesn’t feel good.
I feel backed into a corner like a caged lion, ready to bite as soon as I’m approached.
“I don’t know that,” I deny, wondering if I can course-correct this dialogue into something that takes the heat off of my behavior.
“Hm. I do, very much,” Blake assures me, moving their head to give me several slow kisses on the cheek.
The raw emotion wraps around me. I simply can’t handle this. What’s their move here? To tell me they love me to manipulate me into treatment? No. I won’t go along with that. I won’t throw my career away just because a lover got in too deep with me. That’s not my fucking fault.
“I never asked for that,” I bite out, taking out my anger on them.
Blake chuckles and kisses my cheek again, lingering for a beat. “No, you didn’t. But we’re both the kind of people that do what we want, aren’t we?” Their lips brush against my skin as they speak, making the words more intimate.
“I never asked to be seen,” I try to utter harshly, but my words come out broken. I can’t handle this.
“You know, I clock what you’re doing. It’s cute that you’re trying to be as mean to me as possible, just to avoid being vulnerable.
But, Cupcake, I’m an experienced brat tamer.
I see through the cheap veneer for what it really is.
I’m going to meet every harsh word with laughter and smiles until you’re worn the fuck down.
And then we’re going to have this goddamn conversation. ”
I have severely fucked up. I thought I was getting into something sexy by becoming Blake’s submissive. But I misunderstood what this was, even though they tried to warn me. The truth is, I did ask to be seen; I get that now.
“Please let me go,” I whisper, tears beginning to slip down my cheeks.
“Only if you agree not to run,” Blake gently warns, loosening their tight hold on me. “I will fucking come after you. There is nowhere you can go that I will not follow. You will be safe, healthy, and loved if I have anything to do with it.”
“I promise, Sir. Please,” I beg, fully crying now, my defenses so weak and fragile.
Blake turns me around and looks directly at me, searching my soul with those beautiful light blue eyes. I must look pathetic, because they immediately take hold of me again. This time, their arms are gentle as they pull me into a swaddling hug.
I whimper loudly as I soak their dress shirt in tears and mascara. “I don’t—I can’t—”
“Shh, Cupcake. Just take a second. I’m staying right here,” Blake soothes, running their hands over my body in soft patterns that calm my nerves.
I don’t know how much time passes as I cry, but Blake holds me throughout it, humming a song and running those big hands over my body. Finally, I push them away by their shoulders, and look up at them, sure I’m a certified mess.
Blake brings their hands up to my cheeks and cups them as their thumbs rub the disastrous black streaks off my face. “You know, this is not the way I like to see you cry.”
“What? You’re not going to lick the tears off my face this time?” I tease back, finding some strength in this interplay.
Blake’s lips jerk into an amused smile before they straighten it out. “Not this time, no. Happy tears only. I’m not a douchebag.” I begin to smile before they continue. “But you’ll probably think I’m one by the time we finish the talk we need to have.”
The anger swiftly rears up in me, but I resist the urge to smack their hands off my face, instead allowing us both to bask in the comfort. “I have a request.”
Blake stares a hole in me. “That depends,” they say sternly.
“Can we have the conversation at the end of the week?” I ask, putting so much hope in the words, some fall off the sentence and onto the cobblestones we’re standing on.
Blake drops their hands from my face and stuffs them in their pants pockets. “I don’t know if I can do that, Imani. I think you need to hear the things I have to say right now.”
“Please, Sir,” I beg, making my eyes wide and open, letting them see all the baggage I’m carrying. I’m scared, but at the nucleus of all my cells, I know I can trust them with everything.
“I don’t know if that’s the responsible thing to do. As your Dominant, as your lover, fuck, as your friend,” Blake hedges.
“I need to win, and then we can… talk,” I negotiate, slipping my hands into their pockets to intertwine our fingers.
“I heard you in the bathroom,” Blake begins.
I remove my hands. “Stop,” I say severely.
“You can’t keep punishing yourself,” Blake continues anyway, with more heat.
I step away. “Stop,” I say more harshly.
“You have to eat in order to win the fucking gold!” Blake rushes out.
I screw up my face. “R–”
“If you safe out right now, that’s it. We’re going back to the room, I’m giving you a kiss, and I’m tucking you into bed. Your safeword is not to be used to get what you want, Imani,” Blake threatens darkly.
“Red.”
Blake’s eyes get wide with surprise, but honestly, I don’t know what they expected. They trapped me, so I chose my only recourse.
“All right, Imani. If that’s what you want, I will, of course, honor your safeword.
Come on, let’s go back to the room,” Blake pivots with ease.
I don’t know why I’m the one who is surprised now.
They’ve always been so diligent about their behavior with me—the time they trapped me in the bathroom, aside.
“I’ll walk alone,” I grit out, now pissed off beyond reason. I turn and begin a stride a gay man would envy.
“The fuck you will,” Blake growls, immediately catching up to me with those long fucking legs.
“I safed out. Leave me the fuck alone!” I try to go as fast as my little limbs can carry me.
Blake laughs cruelly. “Absolutely not. I will not touch you; we don’t even have to talk. But you’re on glue if you think I’d abandon you in the middle of one of the largest cities on the planet.”
I scream my frustration aloud, having completely given up on holding myself together. “I hate you!”
“Whatever you say, Imani,” Blake chuckles, and it just incites me to more anger.
They’re impenetrable, and it’s killing me. What’s a bitch gotta do to push the person they love away? Fucking lesbians—we don’t know when to give up. Seriously, Romeo & Juliet is so queer-coded—Romera & Juliet, you mean. Dykes will die for love.
And I do love Blake, which is the real rub.
How could I not, when they take such good care of me?
Hell, they care about me enough to make a scene with me in the middle of Milan, or enough to defile me in one of the most beautiful churches in the world.
Every single word or action is filled with their love, and what do I have to offer in return?
I have spent my life not being enough, so there’s no way I can be enough for them. Now that they know my secret, would I even be enough if I win gold?
Slamming the door in their face when we make it back to the room, I get ready for bed and ignore their looming presence.
Blake makes it hard as they engage in their nightly routine, seemingly unruffled. They change into their PJs—a fresh pair of briefs and a tank top, all while humming a song I can’t place and bopping their head to the beat.
When we’re both in our respective beds, I want to cry for feeling so far away from them.
“So this is what we’re doing now?” I accuse, like it’s their fault I’m not being cradled in their arms as I fall into slumber.
“I’m not fucking you after you threw a temper tantrum, Cupcake,” Blake reminds me in a gentle tone.
I don’t respond, folding myself further into the scratchy sheets. Several minutes go by. “Are you asleep?”
“Not yet, no,” Blake lightly replies.
“Can I come over there?” I ask hopelessly.
“And do what?”
“Just be with you,” I mumble.
Blake pulls their blankets to make a hole for me and opens an arm for me to curl into.
I sigh like I’m doing them a favor as I slide into the spot.
Blake rewards me by kissing me on the forehead and moving my head onto their chest, the position we both like the most.
“I have a question.” I tread slowly, speaking up to the ceiling.
“I have an answer, let’s see if they match,” Blake jokes, kissing the top of my bonnet.
“Ha ha. What did you pray for that day in the church?” I wonder aloud.
“That’s what you’re thinking about right now?” Blake asks curiously.
“Are you not going to answer?” I reply grumpily.
“No, I’ll answer. I’m just surprised. I prayed for you to win gold, of course,” They tell me matter-of-factly.
I’m shocked into silence, but I don’t know what I expected. Why would I think any differently? Blake spends all their fucking time taking care of me, the little mess, scratching her way to gold. I don’t know how to love them back the way they deserve, but… maybe I could be a little less difficult.
Eventually, I’m going to have to ovary up and have the fucking eating conversation. For now, though, I snuggle deeper into their body and find their hand with mine.