Chapter 7
Gage
I'm sprawled across my couch with my laptop balanced on my knees, surrounded by research papers and curriculum proposals from other universities across the country.
The soft glow of my screen illuminates the dimly lit living room as I sift through yet another PowerPoint presentation on "Safe and Consensual BDSM Practices in Educational Settings. "
Princeton's approach is comprehensive but perhaps too clinical for what we need. Stanford's program has a better balance of theory and practical workshops. I make a note to borrow elements from both as I continue crafting my proposal for Carter to go over.
My mind keeps drifting to Skye, her smile, her gasps when I touched her, the way she fought against her restraints. The research I've been doing on setting up a BDSM educational program for my university should be captivating, but it pales in comparison to thoughts of her.
My phone sits beside my laptop, and I keep glancing at it, waiting for Skye's next message.
Me: Don't forget to drink water today.
It's simple, almost paternal advice, but I need to check in on her. Need to know she's taking care of herself. Aftercare doesn't end when the scene does. At least, not with me.
Her reply comes almost immediately.
Skye: Yes, Sir. Already on my second bottle.
The "Sir" makes something in my chest tighten, even in a mundane text.
I shouldn't be this fixated on her. I've had subs before, beautiful and willing, but something about Skye is different.
How she challenges me even as she submits.
The way she craves giving up control, yet fights the vulnerability that comes after.
The stubborn pride in her eyes even when she's bound and begging.
Running a hand over my face, I try to center myself. I need to get back to work, but I’ll send one more message first.
Me: Good girl. I'll see you tonight at the club.
Setting my phone aside, I try to refocus on my work, but it's increasingly difficult to concentrate.
The proposal is important. Establishing a formal BDSM education program will not only provide crucial safety information to students but also help destigmatize what we do.
After years of watching people stumble into the lifestyle without proper guidance and then making dangerous mistakes along the way, this program could make a real difference.
It's just as important to Carter as it is for me, and I don't want to let him down.
Yet all I can think about is Skye. The way her breath catches when I first touch her, and how her body trembles when I push her to her limits. When she lets herself be completely vulnerable with me, I like the absolute trust in her eyes.
My phone rings pulling me from my thoughts. Hunter.
"What's up?" I answer, leaning back in my chair.
"Just checking in. You coming to the club tonight?" His voice is casual, but I know him well enough to hear the undercurrent of concern.
"Yes. Why?"
"Mase mentioned some concerning surveillance around the perimeter. Nothing concrete, but he's beefing up security and wanted me to let the inner circle know."
My jaw tightens. "Someone's watching the club?"
"Possibly. Could be paparazzi hoping for another scoop after that auction bullshit, could be law enforcement, could be nothing. But Mase doesn't get twitchy over nothing."
He's right about that. Mase has instincts honed from years in a world where letting your guard down gets you killed.
"I'll keep an eye out," I tell him. "Thanks for the heads-up."
"No problem. Also," his tone shifts, becoming lighter, "heard you've been spending time with someone new. Everyone at the club is talking about the mysterious woman who's got Gage Owens breaking his rules."
I roll my eyes, though he can't see it. "Since when do you listen to gossip?"
"Since it involves one of my best friends suddenly getting sloppy. You've always been careful, Gage. Private. Now you're more public, meeting in the main area? That's not your usual MO."
He's right, and it irritates me. "Just want to keep her comfortable."
"And you just... gave her what she wanted? Without negotiation? Without making her earn it?" Hunter's voice holds genuine surprise. "Damn, she must be something special."
"We're just playing," I say too quickly. "It's just for the summer."
"Uh-huh," Hunter sounds unconvinced. "Well, enjoy your 'just playing.' See you tonight."
I hang up with Hunter's words echoing in my mind. He's right to be concerned. I've built my reputation, both at the club and in academia, on careful control. On never letting my desires overrule my judgment. On maintaining pristine boundaries.
Yet with Skye, those boundaries are already blurring.
I check the time and realize I need to head to campus for a department meeting before our scene tonight. Gathering my papers, I try to refocus on work, on the persona of Professor Owens, respected academic and department head.
Not Gage, the Dom who can't stop thinking about a woman who's gotten under his skin after just a few nights.
The club is quieter than usual for a weeknight. Security is indeed tighter. I notice three unfamiliar faces checking perimeters, their casual clothing not quite concealing their military bearing. Mase's guys, no doubt. Jax is working tonight, mixing drinks with practiced efficiency.
"The usual?" he asks when he spots me.
"Thanks," I reply, settling onto a barstool to wait for Skye.
Jax slides a whiskey neat across the counter. "Haven't seen you around much lately, Professor."
I quirk an eyebrow at him. "Been busy with work."
"And other things, I hear," he says with a knowing smile. "Your new sub's got everyone talking."
I take a measured sip of my drink. "Is that so?"
"Don't play coy. It's not like you to scoop someone up so quickly." Jax wipes down the counter. "Usually takes you months of observation before you approach anyone."
He's not wrong. I've always been methodical about selecting potential submissives, preferring to watch them interact with others, understand their boundaries and desires before making any move. With Skye, I broke all my rules and took Dante’s recommendation. I hope I don't live to regret it.
"She's different," is all I say, and Jax has the good sense not to push further.
Sky’s entrance draws my attention as she walks in, wearing a simple black dress that hugs every curve of her body. Her hair falls in loose waves around her shoulders, and her eyes scan the room until they find me. The smile that lights up her face sends a jolt of desire straight through me.
I stand as she approaches, restraining myself from pulling her into my arms in full view of everyone. We don't need people talking more than they apparently already do.
"You look beautiful," I tell her, my voice low.
Her cheeks flush slightly. "Thank you, Sir."
"Drink?" I offer, gesturing to the bar.
She nods, and Jax fixes her a drink without even having to be asked.
"How was your day?" she asks, her fingers brushing mine as she takes the glass from my hand.
"Productive. Though I've been distracted thinking about tonight." I let my eyes roam over her. "And you? Work go well?"
"Busy. Start of the summer rush at the salon." She takes a small sip of her drink. "Lots of girls are coming in for highlights before summer break."
I nod, remembering she mentioned working at a salon. There's still so much I don't know about her life outside these walls, and a part of me wants to know everything. Another part knows it's safer to maintain distance.
"Shall we head upstairs?" I ask after she's finished half her drink.
Her eyes glint with anticipation. "Yes, Sir."
Placing my hand on the small of her back, I guide her through the main room toward the private elevator.
I can feel the gazes following us, curiosity and speculation in equal measure.
The Gage Owens they know doesn't parade his conquests.
He doesn't show affection in public spaces.
He certainly doesn't look at anyone the way I'm looking at Skye right now.
The elevator doors close, and we're alone. I don't waste the opportunity, pushing her against the wall and capturing her lips with mine. Her response is immediate, hungry, her hands clutching at my shirt as she presses herself against me.
"I've been thinking about you all day," I murmur against her neck, inhaling her scent, vanilla, and something uniquely her.
"Me too," she admits, her breath catching as I nip at her pulse point.
We break apart as the elevator reaches the third floor. I take her hand, leading her down the corridor to my suite. Inside, I've already prepared everything. There are fresh sheets on the bed, ropes laid out, and candles casting a warm glow across the room.
"Tonight," I tell her as I lock the door behind us, "I'm going to push your boundaries. Are you ready for that?"
She swallows, nervousness and excitement mingling in her expression. "Yes, Sir."
"Undress for me. Slowly."
She immediately complies. Her movements are deliberate as she reaches behind to unzip her dress. It falls to the floor in a whisper of fabric, revealing black lace lingerie underneath. The contrast against her pale skin is breathtaking.
"All of it," I instruct, my voice thick with desire.
She maintains eye contact as she unhooks her bra, letting it slide down her arms. Her panties follow, until she stands before me completely bare, unashamed in her nakedness.
"On the bed," I command. "On your back, arms above your head."
Once she's positioned, I approach with the first length of rope, black silk, soft enough not to chafe but strong enough to hold her securely. I bind her wrists together, then secure them to the headboard.
"How does that feel?" I ask, testing the tension.
"Good, Sir."
I work methodically, binding her ankles next, spreading her legs and securing them to opposite corners of the bed frame. The sight of her bound and open for me sends a surge of primal possessiveness through me.