Chapter 13 #2
"We can take it slow," I assure him. "This doesn't have to change everything. I'm not looking for you to suddenly become my dad. I just... I wanted you to know."
"But I want to be," he says urgently. "I can't get back the years I missed, but maybe we can start building something from here?"
The hope in his voice makes my eyes water. "I'd like that."
We talk for another hour, sharing stories, filling in pieces of each other's lives. He tells me about his career, his regrets, his failed marriage that ended because he was too focused on work. I tell him about growing up with my mother, about college, about how I found my way to Season.
"You came to work here because of me," he realizes.
"Partly. But I stayed because I love what I do."
"And the promotion offer?"
"Had nothing to do with this conversation. I genuinely believe you're the best person for the position."
By the time I leave his office, my entire world has shifted. He's going to take some time to process everything, and we've agreed to have dinner later in the week to continue our conversation.
I'm barely holding it together when I get back to my desk. The emotion of the day is overwhelming, and all I want is Santiago's arms around me.
I text him:
I told him. Can you come get me?
His response comes through in just a couple of moments:
On my way.
Jessie notices my state as I pack up my things. "Violet, what's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"I just had a life-changing conversation. We need to raincheck lunch if that's okay? I'll explain everything at lunch tomorrow, promise?"
She nods, concern clear in her eyes. "Just... take care of yourself."
Santiago is waiting in the lobby when I get downstairs, looking devastating in his usual black jeans and leather cut. When he sees me, his expression immediately shifts to something like being concerned,
"Hey," he says softly, pulling me into his arms right there in the middle of the busy lobby. "How did it go?"
"Can we go home? I'll tell you everything, but I just need to be alone with you right now."
"Of course."
The ride back to his apartment is quiet, his hand resting on my thigh as we navigate traffic. When we get inside, I finally break down, all the emotion I've been holding back flooding out at once.
Santiago gathers me into his arms, letting me cry against his chest while he strokes my hair.
"I did it," I sob. "I actually told him."
"I'm so proud of you," he murmurs. "Tell me what happened."
I recount the entire conversation, from Victorio's shock to his emotional reaction to our plans for the future. Santiago listens without judgment, occasionally asking questions but mostly just holding me, and more importantly, listening to me.
"How do you feel?" he asks when I finish.
"Empty. Full. Terrified. Relieved. Like everything has changed and nothing has changed all at once."
"That sounds about right," he says, tilting my chin up to meet his eyes. "You were incredibly brave today."
"I couldn't have done it without you. Without knowing I had someone to come home to who sees me as strong instead of broken."
"You are strong. The strongest woman I know."
He kisses me then, soft and sweet and reassuring. But when I deepen it, pressing closer to him, the kiss changes. Becomes hungrier, more desperate.
"I need you," I whisper against his lips. "I need to feel grounded. Need to feel yours."
His eyes darken at my words. "Strip," he commands, his voice taking on that dominant edge that makes me shiver.
I pull back and begin undressing slowly, my hands shaking slightly from the weight of the day. Santiago watches every movement, his gaze burning over my skin as it's revealed.
When I'm completely naked, he stands and walks around me slowly, like a predator circling his prey.
"Beautiful," he says, stopping behind me. His hands settle on my waist, pulling me back against his clothed body. "Especially like this. Vulnerable. Open. Trusting me with everything you are."
"Yes, Sir," I breathe.
"Today you faced your past. Tonight, I'm going to remind you of your future. Of who you belong to."
He walks me to the bedroom, his hands guiding me but not hurrying. When we reach the bed, he turns me to face him.
"On your knees," he orders.
I sink down gracefully, my hands automatically going behind my back. The position feels natural now, right.
"Such a good girl, knowing exactly how I want you." He begins undressing slowly, and I watch hungrily as inch after inch of his tattooed skin is revealed. "Do you know how proud I am of you? How watching you stand up for yourself makes me want to claim you all over again?"
"Show me," I say boldly.
His smile is predatory. "I intend to."
When he's fully naked, he moves to the dresser and retrieves a few items. Rope, which I expected, but also something I haven't seen before—a black leather collar with silver hardware.
My breath catches. "Santiago..."
"This," he says, holding up the collar, "is for when you're ready to make our arrangement permanent. To let everyone know exactly who you belong to."
My pulse races. A collar is serious in the BDSM world. It's symbolic of complete trust, of permanent submission.
"I want it," I whisper.
"You want what?"
"I want to wear your collar, Sir. I want everyone to know I'm yours."
His eyes flame with possessiveness and pride. "Then you'll earn it tonight. You'll show me how completely you can surrender to me."
He sets the collar aside for now and picks up the rope. "Arms behind your back."
I comply, and he begins to bind me elaborately. Not just my wrists this time, but my arms and torso, the rope creating intricate patterns against my skin. Each wrap of rope feels like a claim, a mark of his ownership.
When he's finished, I'm bound tightly but not uncomfortable. The rope distribution spreads the tension, making it more of an embrace than a restraint.
"Exquisite," he says, stepping back to admire his work. "Now, on the bed. On your back."
Moving to the bed is more challenging with my arms bound, but I manage it with his help. He arranges me just how he wants me—legs spread, feet flat on the bed, knees up.
"I'm going to take my time with you tonight," he says, settling between my legs. "I'm going to make you come so many times you lose count. And when you're completely wrung out, completely mine, then I'll put my collar around your neck."
He starts with his hands, exploring every inch of my body with deliberate slowness. When he finally puts his mouth on me, I arch off the bed with a cry. Without my hands to anchor myself, every sensation is magnified.
He works me expertly, bringing me to the edge again and again before pulling back. By the time he finally lets me come, I'm sobbing with need.
"Please," I gasp as he continues to torture me with gentle touches. "Please, I need you inside me."
"Not yet," he says, moving up to take my nipple in his mouth. "You don't get my cock until you're wearing my collar."
The promise makes me moan. He continues his sensual attack on my body, using his mouth and hands to drive me wild. When he finally reaches for the collar, I'm a trembling mess of need and sensation.
"Last chance to back out," he says seriously. "Once this goes on, you're mine completely. In every way."
"I'm already yours," I tell him. "This just makes it official."
He fastens the collar around my neck with such care. The leather is soft against my skin, the weight both comforting and arousing. There's a small ring at the front that jingles softly when I move.
"Perfect," he breathes. "Absolutely perfect."
Then he's finally inside me, filling me completely, and I cry out at the sensation. The collar shifts against my throat with each thrust, adding another layer of pleasure to everything I'm experiencing right now.
"Mine," he growls, setting a demanding pace. "My good girl. My sub. My woman."
"Yours," I agree, lost in the sensation. "Always yours."
When I come this time, it's with his name on my lips and his collar around my throat. He follows soon after, burying himself deep and groaning my name.
Afterward, he carefully unties me, massaging feeling back into my arms. But he leaves the collar on.
"How does it feel?" he asks, tracing the leather with one finger.
"Right," I say simply. "Like coming home."
We lie together in the dark, my fingers playing with the ring on my collar.
"Thank you," I say quietly.
"For what?"
"For giving me the strength to face my past. For helping me become who I'm supposed to be."
"You did that yourself, baby. I just gave you a safe place to land."
"I love you, Santiago."
"I love you too, Violet. My collared girl. My woman. Mine."
As I drift off to sleep in his arms, wearing his mark of ownership, I can't help but smile. Today changed everything—my relationship with my father, my understanding of my own past, my future with Santiago.
Tomorrow I'll go back to work and face whatever questions Victorio might have, whatever changes what I've told him might bring. But tonight, I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be.
In the arms of the man who sees me not as broken, but as beautifully, perfectly whole, but more importantly, as his.