Chapter 18
CHAPTER 18
Asher
When Brynn steps into the kitchen the next morning, I’m surprised. It’s after nine, but I thought she might sleep or hide from me until at least noon. If I were her, that’s what I would have done.
Instead, she enters the room, looking far better than last night. She’s dressed to work out with her hair in a ponytail. She smiles at me and heads in my direction.
As she takes a seat, Georgia silently brings her a glass of juice and a cup of coffee just the way she likes it—more cream than coffee, two scoops of sugar.
“Thank you, ma’am,” she says to Georgia.
“Of course, dear. Omelet today? Toast on the side?”
“That would be wonderful.”
I’m watching Brynn closely while she interacts with Georgia. She looks normal. She’s still off a bit. She’s not meeting my gaze directly.
She finally looks down at her front. “I figured you would want to work out this morning. I’m probably late, though. I bet you worked out four hours ago,” she jokes.
“Nope. Not yet. I waited for you.” I set my elbows on the table. “How’d you sleep?”
“Like a rock. I was exhausted.”
“Good. You’ve had a long week. I was probably too hard on you. I’ll tone it down.”
She lifts her gaze. “I’m fine. I’m a woman of leisure now—except for classes. Don’t worry. I can handle anything.”
I don’t like her tone or her insinuation. I don’t want her to “handle” things like it’s a chore that she’s enduring. I want her to be happy and carefree. I want her to submit to me because she enjoys it, not because she thinks I expect it from her. We need to renegotiate.
Georgia sets a plate in front of her.
“Thank you, ma’am.” Brynn picks up her fork and digs in. I don’t think she ate much last night. I’m not surprised she’s starving.
I leave her be while she eats, not interrupting or saying a word until her plate is clean and she leans back with her coffee in her hands. “What’s on the agenda for the day after our workout, Sir?”
I flinch. I can’t explain it, but I don’t like her submitting to me right now. It feels like something happened between us last night, and we’ve shifted into a different dynamic. I can’t comprehend it even in my head, so I don’t say anything. But I know I need to figure it out soon and discuss it with her.
“I thought we’d take it easy today. You can do some homework while I take care of a few things for work. Maybe spend some time reading or watching a movie. Tonight, I have that dinner. If you’re not up to it, I’ll make excuses for you so you can stay home.”
She shakes her head. “I’ll be ready. Remind me who we’re meeting so I can be prepared.”
“It’s a father and son from New York. They’re in business together. William Richmond and his son, Bill.”
She laughs.
“What’s so funny?”
“At least those two bitches from last night were right about one thing. Dinner sounds like a scene out of Pretty Woman . I hope they don’t serve snails, and I don’t fling one across the room.”
I laugh. “No snails. Got it.”
Things feel lighter. Maybe I’m overthinking it all. Maybe we’re fine. I stand and take her hand. “Come.”
She lets me lead her to the workout room, where we both climb onto a piece of equipment to warm up. After that, we move to weights. Brynn is submissive and obedient, and I don’t like it.
The third time she calls me Sir, I drop my weights, come at her, and back her up until she hits the wall. I lift her hands over her head and pin her wrists. I don’t even know what my intentions are until the words start coming out of my mouth.
“Don’t submit to me in this room, Brynn. In fact, don’t submit to me in any room except the playroom and when we’re at Edge.”
Her eyes widen. “Sir?”
I shake my head. “I mean it. Call me Asher except when we’re playing.” I’m shocking even myself. I don’t know what’s come over me, but I know I’m right. When she called me Asher last night, it did something to me. It makes me feel like this thing is real. When she calls me Sir and submits to me constantly, I feel like all we are is one long scene. It’s not real . It’s…as though I’ve paid her to say it. And I did. But suddenly, I’m regretting so many things.
“Why? What happened?” Her eyes tear up. Does she think she’s in trouble or that I’m mad at her?
I drop her arms and guide them around my neck before I cup her face and bring my lips to hers. I need to kiss her. I need to feel her mouth on me. I need to make her moan into me. I want to feel her squirm against me. I want to do all that without performing for a fucking camera. I’ve never kissed her except when cameras were watching.
She kisses me back and gives it all to me, thank goodness. I might have dropped to my knees if she hadn’t returned my affection.
I kiss her forever, deepening the contact until we’re just one entity. It’s the best kiss of my life. It’s filled with meaning, feelings, and emotions. When I finally break our lips apart, we’re both panting.
“What was that for?” she asks softly.
“I felt like it.” I hold her face, keeping her close. “I kind of like kissing you without cameras. I’m tired of always performing.”
“What about me submitting? Are you tired of that, too?”
“God, no. I love it when you submit to me, but I pushed you too hard last week. I don’t want you to feel like I’m always bossing you. It’s too intense.”
“Says who?”
“Me.” Because I want more with her. Maybe she doesn’t feel the same way and want the same things. That would fucking suck. And I’m not ready to ask. I’d be broken if she told me she didn’t want what I do.
“Okay…”
I release her because if I don’t, I’m going to end up dragging her to my bedroom and taking her innocence. We’re not there. We’ll only get there if she starts seeing me through the same lens I’m seeing her.
This is not fake. It’s more real than anything I’ve ever experienced. I’m not sure it’s fair for me to feel this way or try to convince her to want me as her man. There are so many reasons why she should tell me to take a hike.
I’m messing with her life. I should have known this would happen. I should have thought this through better before I made the rash decision to propose our deal. Of course, people would start harassing her. Of course, she would lose her anonymity. I’ve probably fucked up her education and her future job prospects. All because I was salivating over her at a coffee shop.
I’m more drawn to her today than before I approached her in the Edge breakroom in the middle of the night. I want her. Not just as my fake arm candy. I want to keep her.
When we’re done working out, I let her go to her own room to shower and get dressed. I don’t follow her or select her clothes. I say nothing and let her choose what to wear from the closet.
I force myself to leave her alone for several hours so she can study without me hovering. I even send Georgia to bring her a sandwich, so she doesn’t have to come to the kitchen to eat lunch.
I’m sitting on the loveseat in my office, flipping through emails on my phone, when she enters late in the afternoon.
“Sir?”
I flinch as I lower my phone. Why is she calling me Sir?
She shuts the door to my office behind her and comes to me.
I nearly swallow my tongue when I notice she’s wearing that black romper. It’s obvious she has no bra on, and I doubt she’s wearing panties, either. She’s also barefoot.
I don’t say a word because I’m gobsmacked as she grabs the pillow from the corner of the loveseat, sets it on the floor between my legs, and kneels. She breathes out a deep sigh as she leans her cheek against my thigh and closes her eyes.
It’s as though she’s centering herself. As if she’s needed this for hours. This submission. This connection .
I breathe easier, too, as I smooth my hand over her head. I say nothing. I’m choked up. There are a lot of thoughts going through my head. I won’t deny her this. I’m sure she’s confused by my earlier declaration that she shouldn’t submit to me outside of the playroom.
My girl is responding by silently letting me know that’s not going to work for her. It took guts to come in here, shut the door without asking, and submit to me totally.
I probably went too far. She needs balance. She needs to be able to submit to me more than inside the playroom, but every moment of the day is too much. I know this because she wouldn’t have called me Asher this morning if she’d wanted to submit at that time .
We need to discuss this arrangement. Negotiate. That’s what all Doms should do with their subs. But I’m chicken shit, and I don’t want to rock the boat right now. I just want to pet my girl while she kneels between my legs. So I do.