Chapter 21
Skye
Gemma sets down her mimosa and arches a perfectly groomed brow at me. "So, what is going on with Gage?"
Summer leans forward too, chin propped on her hand, eyes glittering with curiosity. "Yes, please spill. You've been twitchy all morning."
I poke at the edge of my avocado toast, stalling. It's brunch, girls' day out, and I was hoping to dodge this exact conversation. But they know me too well. I sigh.
"I agreed to meet him tonight," I admit.
Summer's lips part in surprise. "At Club Red?"
I nod, feeling the heat creep up my neck. "Yeah."
Gemma whistles. "Damn. He must be persuasive."
"It's not just that," I say, trying to find the right words. I trace a line through the condensation on my glass. "It's like... I can't stay away. Every time I think I should put distance between us, he pulls me back in with a look, a word. The man is like gravity."
Summer nods slowly. "I get that. But are you okay with it?"
I pause, really thinking about it. "Yeah. I think I am. It's not simple. None of it is. Especially not with everything else going on."
Gemma tips her head. "What everything else?"
I swallow, heart tightening. Here it goes.
"You know my mom is sick."
They both nod. I've mentioned it before, brushed it off with jokes or sarcasm, but I've never laid it out.
"She has her good days and bad days. Last week she insisted Gage come over for dinner. Well, he did, and now she expects him there every week. Even though she knows he's my professor and what's on the line, she just says everything will work out. And my dad?"
I look down, the words thick.
"He left. Cheated on her with a girl only a few years older than me.
He had money but didn't send a cent to help raise me.
Not a birthday card, not a dime. Now he's back in my life, wanting to pay for school.
I guess it's the big reason I am getting my master's as a fuck you to him, making him pay for it.
Doesn't make up for everything else though. "
Gemma's fingers touch my arm, light and comforting.
"I held everything together growing up. Mom worked two jobs so I could focus on school.
I helped by paying the bills, cooking, and cleaning.
Mom was working so much that I barely saw her.
She didn't know I had a job at a salon cleaning so I could pay for my school field trips, and my senior year stuff.
Because she had such a small cushion in her bank account, I learned to shop for thrift store clothes, something I still do.
And when that wasn't enough, I found other ways. "
They don't speak, letting me talk.
"I found Club Red when I was nineteen. A Dom sponsored me.
It wasn't sexual at first. He simply paid my fees.
Gave me stability, rules, structure, and the ability to let everything else go and let someone else make decisions, if only for an hour or two.
We never crossed a line, and eventually, we became friends.
He still sponsors me. Says I remind him of his little sister. "
Summer smiles gently. "He sounds like a good man."
"He is."
"After him, I had play partners. It was exactly what I needed while in school. I wasn't prepared for Gage, but damn if I can walk away now," I say. Just the thought of having to walk away brings tears to my eyes.
"Let's talk about Gemma's wedding planning," I all but beg for a topic change.
Gemma takes a sip of her coffee, eyes narrowing thoughtfully.
"And in the middle of all this, I'm supposed to be planning my wedding.
I finally broke down and accepted Carter's offer of hiring a wedding planner and turned it all over to her.
Why did I think I could do it all myself?
Carter had been a huge help, but it's been such a relief. "
Summer laughs. "You're lucky you have a fiancé who actually cares about color palettes. Mine thought lavender and plum were drinks because of the drink menu from the Club a few years back."
Summer's husband is Gemma's dad. It's been an unspoken rule when we talk like this, that Summer uses terms like 'fiancé' or 'husband' instead of Knox's name, so as not to creep Gemma out.
Gemma groans. "He means well, but I swear, I just want one dinner where he isn't trying to suggest something for the wedding."
I smile, the warm banter easing some of the tension in my chest. "At least you two have people backing you."
Gemma sets her cup down and reaches across the table to squeeze my hand. "And you have us. We're your people."
"I know.” Trying to steer toward happier topics, I ask Summer what is going on in her life.
Summer twists her napkin and glances between us. "I've been thinking... I might want a baby."
Gemma gasps, her eyes lighting up. "Oh my God, Summer! Are you serious?"
Summer nods, a little shyly. "Yeah. I mean, not right this second. But maybe after your wedding. It's just been on my mind a lot lately."
Gemma clasps her hands like she's ready to burst. "That would be amazing! You'd be such a good mom. And I'd get to officially have a brother or sister, but be able to act more like the fun aunt. Oh! Our kids can grow up together. That will be a little weird but so fun!"
Summer laughs. "Let's get through your vows first. But yeah, someday."
I watch them, warmth blooming in my chest. Moments like this, despite everything, remind me what connection feels like. What it means to belong somewhere.
My throat is tight listening to their banter. "Thanks. I needed this more than I realized."
Summer grins. "So, back to Gage..."
"He said I hide behind his professor persona. That I keep him at a distance with the rules."
"Do you?" Summer asks.
"Yeah, a little at least," I admit. "Because if I let him all the way in, I don't know what will happen."
Gemma leans back. "Maybe it's time to find out."
Summer nods. "Do you think he wants something serious with you?"
I hesitate. "I think he thinks he does. I'm nervous about being there."
"Do you want to meet him there?" Gemma asks.
"Yes," I whisper. "God help me, I do."
That's the thing. I think I do.
With the conversation with my friends earlier on my mind, I walk into Club Red that night and I don't hesitate. I hand over my membership card, follow the familiar path through the lounge, past the bar, and up the elevator.
To his room.
My heart thunders with each step. I should feel dread, shame, or fear. But all I feel is anticipation. My fingers twitch, my breath catches, and every nerve is on high alert.
The door opens before I knock. He stands there, tall and commanding, in a dark button-down with the sleeves rolled up. His gaze rakes over me slowly, possessively.
"Skye." My name on his lips is like a prayer and a command all at once. "Come in."
I step inside. The room is dimly lit, with candles casting long shadows across the walls. The St. Andrew's cross stands in one corner, the bed neatly made in another. Everything in its place. Just like Gage likes it.
"I wasn't sure you'd come," he says, closing the door behind me.
"Neither was I." My voice is steadier than I feel.
He circles me slowly, not touching, just observing. My skin prickles with awareness.
With one hand, he lifts a blindfold.
"This goes on now. It stays on until I say otherwise."
I nod, swallowing hard. This is familiar territory, the safety of ritual. My chest loosens a fraction as he steps behind me, his breath warm against my neck. The silk slides over my eyes, plunging me into darkness. His fingers brush my hair as he secures the knot, careful not to pull.
"Color?" His voice is close to my ear.
"Green," I whisper.
His hand finds the small of my back, guiding me forward. "Three steps ahead."
I move cautiously, trusting his direction.
"Stop."
I freeze, my other senses heightening in the absence of sight. The air feels cooler here. Music plays softly in the background, something classical I can't name.
"Clothes. Off."
My fingers find the hem of my dress, the simple black fabric sliding up and over my head. I let it fall to the floor, standing in nothing but my lace bra and matching panties. The cool air raises goosebumps along my arms.
"All of it."
I reach behind me, unhooking my bra with practiced ease. It joins the dress at my feet. My panties follow, leaving me completely exposed. Vulnerable. Exactly how he wants me.
"Beautiful." His voice holds approval, and something deeper. Something that makes my pulse quicken. "Turn around. Slowly."
I turn, feeling his eyes on every inch of my skin. When I complete the circle, facing him again, I hear him move closer.
"You've been thinking about this all day, haven't you?" His fingertips trace along my collarbone, feather-light.
"Yes." The word escapes me like a confession.
"Tell me what you thought about." His fingers trail down my arm, barely touching.
"I thought about being here. About you taking control." My voice catches as his hand moves to my waist. "About not having to think anymore."
He makes a sound of approval, low in his throat. "That's exactly what I'm going to give you tonight, Skye. No thinking. Just us."
"I'm not your professor tonight," he murmurs as he backs me until my back hits a solid cold surface. "You're not my student. You're mine. My submissive."
I shiver at his words, my body responding instinctively to that possessive tone. "Yes, Sir."
"Good girl." His hand cups my cheek, thumb brushing over my lower lip. "Tonight is about trust. Can you give me that?"
My heart races, but I nod. "Yes."
The cold surface against my back must be the St. Andrew's cross. His hands guide my arms upward, and I feel the soft leather cuffs encircle my wrists. The click of each buckle sends a thrill down my spine.
"Spread your legs."
I comply, feeling exposed and vulnerable as he secures my ankles as well. Bound, blind, and completely at his mercy. It should terrify me. Instead, I feel my shoulders relax, my mind already beginning to quiet.
"You're beautiful like this. Open, vulnerable, and trusting."
His words wash over me like warm honey, and I arch slightly against the restraints. The leather holds firm, keeping me exactly where he wants me.
"I'm going to touch you now," he says, his voice closer. "Slowly. I want to feel every reaction."
His palm settles on my stomach, just below my ribs. My muscles flutter under his touch. He doesn't move for a long moment, just lets me feel the weight and warmth of his hand.
"Breathe," he commands softly.
I hadn't realized I was holding my breath. I exhale shakily, my chest rising and falling as I try to center myself.
His hand begins to move, tracing lazy patterns across my skin. Up along my ribs, down to my hip bone, across my lower belly. Never quite touching where I want him most, but close enough to make me squirm.
"Be still," he commands, and my body obeys even as my mind races.
His fingertips trace the curve of my breast, circling slowly inward until he brushes against my nipple. I gasp at the contact, the sensation heightened by my blindness.
"So responsive," he murmurs, pinching lightly. "I've thought about this all week. Having you here, bound for me."
His other hand mirrors the first, both thumbs now teasing my nipples into hard peaks. My back arches involuntarily, seeking more pressure.
His hands leave my breasts, and I whimper at the loss. I hear him move away, his footsteps muffled on the carpet. A drawer opens and closes. My pulse quickens, wondering what he's retrieving.
"This might be cold at first," he warns.
Something smooth and cool trails along my shoulder blade.