Chapter 8
Skye
The sun kisses my shoulders as I sink into the lounge chair on Summer's patio, the smell of chlorine and sunscreen thick in the air.
I stretch my legs out and sip from the tall glass of lemonade she handed me the moment I arrived.
Wedding magazines are spread out on the table next to us, a half-hearted nod to our purpose here today.
Summer lounges in the chair beside me, oversized sunglasses perched on her nose and a relaxed smile on her face. Gemma is in the pool, cooling off, being careful not to get her hair wet.
"So, Gemma wants something simple, but elegant. That means no mason jars, no hay bales, and definitely no DIY flower arrangements." Summer says it like she was given that exact speech before I got there.
I laugh. "Good. If I have to glue one more flower to anything, I'm going to start charging by the petal."
She chuckles, flipping a page. "I thought you'd be more excited about this. You're usually the one pushing for color palettes and signature cocktails."
I nod and force a smile, my gaze drifting to the blue sky overhead. "Yeah, I am. It's just... life's been a little busy lately."
Summer lifts her sunglasses to look at me. "Busy? Or distracted?"
I give her a pointed look, hoping to steer her away. "Can we not talk about him today? I'm here to wedding plan, not give updates on my sex life."
She raises her hands in mock surrender. "Fine, fine. But don't think I haven't noticed that smile you're trying to hide. And we both know Gemma won't drop it so easily."
"What won't I drop?" Gemma asked as she walked over to grab her towel and dry off.
"Skye here doesn't want to talk about her new man. She just wants to talk about wedding stuff," Summer says, grinning.
"Why can't we do both?" Gemma says, taking a seat on the lounger on the other side of Summer.
"Because I don't want to talk about it," I say harsher than I mean to. Both girls stare but say nothing.
"When I'm ready to talk, you two will be the first to know, but right now it's just casual.
I'm so glad you two found your happily ever after, but I'm not looking for that right now.
I just want to finish school. Then I will have time to date properly.
Until then, it's casual," I say in a softer tone.
They are both quiet for a moment before Gemma picks up a wedding magazine.
"I folded a few pages down in this one. Check them out," she says, handing it to me.
I smile, thankful for the change in subject. I'm not ready to talk about how Gage's texts have been the highlight of my days lately. Flirty. Filthy. Funny. Everything I didn't know I needed. But this isn't the time or place to dissect the complicated thing growing between us.
We spend the next hour flipping through sample invitations and venue photos, giggling over horrible dress designs and debating seating charts. It feels good to get lost in something normal, to let the tension of the last few weeks take a backseat.
Summer suddenly sits up, reaching for a small binder. "Gemma was thinking about a sunset ceremony on the lake on that estate we were looking at. Can you imagine the light hitting the water, her in something soft and flowing, maybe barefoot?"
"It would be gorgeous," I agree, my fingers brushing the edge of a swatch book. "She'd look like a goddess. Then she’d go inside to have the enchanted fairytale reception?"
"Yes! I'm thinking tons of fairy lights strung around potted trees. After the ceremony, they could get planted in our backyard," Gemma says.
I nod, already picturing it. "Maybe some indoor fountains to create the sounds of nature too. We can do fairy lights in jars or vases on the tables instead of tea lights as well,” I say.
"Yes! That's the Skye I know. Finally, coming out of hiding," Summer says.
"I'm not hiding."
"You're glowing and pretending you're not, which is worse. I saw you check your phone trying to hide it so we don't see it."
I sigh, resting my head back on the chair. "I can't help it. He makes me feel... seen. Like I'm not just a thing to be used or a body to dominate. It's different."
Summer's expression softens. "Sounds like more than just a fling."
"It's complicated. We haven't even met outside the club. Not really. Not yet."
"But you want to?"
I hesitate, then nod. "Yeah. I do. But then that leads down a dangerous path. I have one year of school, and then the finish line is in sight."
A long silence stretches between us, the hum of cicadas filling the space. I watch the sunlight dance across the surface of the pool, trying to quiet the war inside me. Wanting him is easy. Letting him in... well, that's another story.
We eventually cool off with a quick dip, floating lazily and laughing like we used to before life got messy. When we climb out, dripping and breathless, I feel a little lighter. Like maybe I can handle this.
When the sun dips lower in the sky, I gather my things and hug Summer and Gemma goodbye.
"Skye?" Summer says as I turn to leave.
I glance back.
"Tell your Dom hi for me."
I groan, flipping her off with a grin as I walk away.
My mom was so excited and feeling great, she asked me to meet her at her favorite little bistro, so I’m on my way to see her.
The bistro is tucked just around the corner from her apartment, and she's already waiting when I arrive.
When she sees me, she smiles and waves. I try not to tear up on my way over to her because she looks amazing, like she did before she got sick.
"There's my girl," she says as I lean down to hug her so she doesn't have to stand.
"Hi, Mom. You look great."
She waves a hand. "You're just saying that because you want dessert. But I feel so much better than the last time I saw you."
"I want dessert regardless, but it is true."
She laughs and opens her menu, and we spend a few minutes discussing the specials. It's been a while since my mom felt well enough to go out to eat, so we are savoring the experience because who knows what tomorrow brings.
Halfway through my pasta, she narrows her eyes at me.
"You're smiling at your phone. Again."
I blink, caught. I quickly set it face down. "Just texting a friend."
"The same male friend from the last time?"
"Maybe."
I sigh, cheeks warming. "He's just someone I've been talking to. He's out of town for work."
Her brows lift. "And does this someone have a name?"
"Gage."
She swirls her drink thoughtfully. "I'd like to meet him."
I nearly choke. "Mom, no. It's too soon."
"Nonsense. I've learned nothing is too soon when the future is uncertain. If he's worth texting this much, he's worth introducing."
"It's not that simple."
"Why not?"
I hesitate. "We've only just started talking. I don't want to put pressure on it. Meeting the family? That's big."
She gives me a knowing look. "It's only as big as you make it. And if you like him as much as you clearly do, then what's the harm in letting him see a slice of your life?"
"It's just... we haven't even gone out for coffee yet. We've only seen each other in one specific context."
"Sexual context?"
I groan. "Mom."
She grins. "Honey, I was your age once. I'm not judging. But a good man is more than just good in bed. I want to see how he looks at you. How he treats you. And if he's serious, then he won't mind meeting your mother."
I sigh, swirling my wine. "You're not going to let this go, are you?"
"Not a chance."
"Fine. But if it goes horribly, I'm blaming you."
"I'll take full responsibility."
Later, after I kiss her goodbye and promise to call soon, I sit in my car for a moment, phone in hand. My fingers hover over the keyboard before I type.
Me: My mom caught me texting you again. She wants to meet you. I told her it's too soon, but she said to bring you anyway. No pressure.
I expect him to say no and maybe even be mad I suggested it, so when his response comes quickly, I hesitate for a moment before reading it.
Gage: I'd love to meet her. Just tell me when and where.
I sit there stunned for a moment, then I grin and tuck the phone in my bag. The butterflies in my stomach are equal parts excitement and terror.
My apartment is quiet when I walk in. Still. Empty. I drop my keys in the bowl by the door and head straight for the shower. The heat soothes the tension in my shoulders, and I take my time, letting the anticipation of tonight build.
Once I'm dried and moisturized, I slip into a soft lace tank and matching panties. It's one of my favorite sets, but I doubt I'll be wearing it for long.
My laptop waits on the coffee table, webcam ready. I settle onto the couch and pull a blanket over my legs, heart thudding as I log in.
The screen lights up, and then he's there, filling the frame. Shirtless. Smirking.
"There you are, sweetheart."
His voice wraps around me like silk, the nickname new. I don't find I hate it, which is weird because with other Doms I couldn't stand any nicknames.
"Hey," I whisper.
"Long day?"
I nod. "Lots of wedding planning and mother interrogations."
He chuckles, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "She wants to meet me."
"You don't have to say yes."
"In all fairness, this is new territory for me."
"Me too. My mom... is sick, cancer. She is in treatment, but she worries about me and if I'll be okay if the treatments don't work," I say, stopping when emotion clogs my voice.
"I get it. If meeting her will make her happy and cause you less stress, I'm more than happy to do it," he says.
Something warm and soft blooms in my chest.
"I wish you were here," I admit, needing to change the subject.
"Soon," he promises. "But for now, let's make do."
He shifts, the camera catching the cut of his abs, the way his hand trails down his chest. My thighs clench instinctively.
"Take off the blanket," he says.
I comply.
"Show me more."
My tank is loose, and I let one strap fall, then the other. My breasts are bare beneath, and I see the way his eyes darken.
"Good girl. Are you wet for me already?"
I nod.
"Show me."
I slide my hand down, slipping fingers into the waistband of my panties. They're soaked.
"I've been thinking about you all day," I whisper. "Wondering what you'd do if you were here."
"I'd bend you over that couch. Spread your legs. Make you beg."
My breath catches.
"Do you want to come for me, Skye?"
"Yes."
"Then do it. Rub that pretty clit. Let me see your eyes while you come."
I move my hand, fingers circling, the image of him stroking himself in time with my movements burned into my brain. My orgasm hits fast, sharp, and electric. I cry out, hips lifting off the couch as I ride the wave.
When I open my eyes, he's still watching, his release seconds behind mine. His groan fills the speakers, low and primal.
We're both quiet for a moment, breathing hard.
"Fuck, you're gorgeous when you come," he says, his voice ragged.
I smile, breath still shallow.
He chuckles, the sound low and satisfied. "I can't wait to have you under me again. Feel your skin, and hear those little noises you make. Taste you."
My body reacts instantly, heat flaring again. "You're going to ruin me."
"That's the plan."
Afterward, we fall into easy conversation, as the tension eases while our bodies calm. He tells me about the city he's in and the terrible hotel coffee. I laugh and tease him, and for a moment, it almost feels like we're just a regular couple winding down after a day apart.
"I should go," I say reluctantly. "Early morning."
"I'll dream of you."
"And I'll dream of my good coffee. And maybe you."
He laughs. "That's cruel and only maybe?"
"Depends how good the dreams are."
"Challenge accepted."
We say goodnight, lingering until the last second. When the screen finally goes dark, I feel the loss like a physical thing.
But as I curl up on the couch, the afterglow still warm in my limbs, I know something shifted tonight.
He's not just my Dom anymore.
He's something more.
And that scares me more than anything else.