Chapter 11
TROYE
Making the promise not to run had knocked something loose inside of me.
Something I couldn’t describe. It wasn’t that I’d wanted to run, it was that I couldn’t make myself stay.
When Matthew looked at me, it was like he was looking right through me.
Not in an I don’t see you way but the opposite.
I would have sworn he had x-ray vision and saw all parts of me, even parts I didn’t know existed.
Like the part of me that wanted to be taken over his knee again.
The part of me that wanted to give him control.
I hadn’t known those things about myself until he unearthed them.
He took one look at me and was an instant expert, some sort of kinky archaeologist excavating my secrets.
And I’d been equal parts aroused and terrified.
“You said rules, surely there’s more than one.
” I made myself rejoin the conversation, though all I wanted to do was not talk.
I wanted to curl into him and feel the cadence of his voice, the steady thud of his heart.
One night with Matthew and I was already a hopeless wreck.
Needy and greedy for anything he’d give me.
“I think the rest is best discussed somewhere more private.” Matthew glanced around, bringing awareness to our surroundings.
“Then it’s a good thing I’m going home with you so we can continue this conversation later.”
Matthew’s eyes glimmered, and I loved the way he smiled at me. I loved the feeling it gave me when Matthew paid attention to me. He had a way of making me feel like I was his sole focus, the only thing on the whole planet that mattered. It was intoxicating.
“Bold little brat.” The words came without malice, with some kind of reverence attached instead.
“You don’t make that sound like a bad thing.” Admittedly, I was a little perplexed by it. I’d only ever heard the word brat used with great annoyance or even disdain. Brats were unholy terrors, bucking the trends of polite society. They were pushy and loud and mostly unwanted.
“I don’t mind an honest brat.”
The way Matthew worded it brought me up short. “As opposed to a dishonest brat?”
“As opposed to someone whose bratting is a performance. Don’t get me wrong.
There’s nothing wrong with it; I just prefer the kind of brat that gets wound up and can’t help themselves.
The kind of brat who gets overwhelmed and overstimulated and might do something rash like pick a fight with a stranger on a plane and then sit in his lap when he won’t give up his seat. ”
I picked at my food, realizing I’d eaten more than half, but there was still no way I was going to finish it all. Everything Matthew was saying to me was taking up space inside of me, trying to find where it fit.
“I didn’t mean to be a brat,” I admitted to him, barely able to meet his gaze. Shame had washed over me a few times since the plane incident. The only redeeming thing about my actions was that somehow they brought me to Matthew, and no one seemed to have been recording.
“I know you didn’t. Honest brats don’t mean to brat. They just get too wound up and carried away, and then before they know it, they’re in hot water in one way or another.”
“Like getting kicked off a flight.” I narrowed my eyes at him. “It was kind of bratty for you to invite yourself into my hotel room.”
Matthew’s stare was hard like steel and sharp like a blade. The tone of his voice was deep, firm, and left no room for argument. Not that I’d be able to, because the moment I heard him speak, my insides wobbled.
“Someone had to make sure you behaved. I call it a fitting punishment for making me miss my flight.”
“I really am sorry about that,” I blurted, my face burning.
Matthew reached across the table and put his hand on mine.
His thumb stroked across the back of my hand in a soothing way.
Nice and slow and purposeful. No movement was ever wasted with him.
He was economical with his words too. Everything he said and did was driven by purpose, nothing wasted, and it made my chest bloom with warmth that he’d choose to spend his energy on me.
“No more apologizing for that. It’s done, and it can’t be undone. Besides, I think, all things considered, it had a favorable outcome.”
The heat in his gaze melted me to the floor. I was nothing but wax, softened and made moldable by his warmth.
Unsure what to say, I shifted the conversation away from things that felt too heavy.
I was having trouble wrapping my head around all the things we were saying and all the things we weren’t.
I wasn’t allowed to run, but I was allowed to be…
myself. Messy and imperfect and sometimes impulsive and impossible.
And if we were going to have rules, and they were negotiable, then I wanted to negotiate sexy spankings.
Spankings that maybe weren’t because I was wound up.
Desperately needing a different thought in my head, I took a sip of my drink and searched for a new topic. “Did you like my stream? How long did you stay?”
“You’re very entertaining. You’re honest, and laid back, and a lot of fun to watch. I didn’t stay long, but I spent the whole flight watching old clips of you.”
If my heart was fluttering before, it was downright break dancing now. “You did?”
“Of course I did. I wanted to know more about you.” Matthew shifted, and that’s when I realized he was still holding my hand. The contact had felt so natural that I’d stopped registering it.
“Well, I’m here. What did you want to know?”
He lifted my hand and dragged it slowly toward his mouth. He dusted a kiss against my knuckles. His eyes held mine, something warm gently simmering below the surface. “Everything.”
I almost laughed, but he wasn’t joking. He was serious.
“Everything?”
“You came into my life like a tornado, and then you let me tame you. I don’t think you understand how beautiful it was or how rare. I liked what we did. All of it. Even the part where you threw yourself in my lap, as though the flight crew would let you fly that way.”
I managed to roll my eyes. “They’re so boring. Airlines are always looking for ways to make more money. They should have just let us fly like that.”
I’d been called worse things than a tornado before but never with such affection. The way Matthew talked about me made me think he actually didn’t mind that I’d been unable to control myself in those moments.
“Can you imagine? Flying already feels like being a sardine in a can. Stacking passengers on top of each other would really sell it.”
“Good thing I don’t fly very often, because that mental image isn’t leaving my brain for a while.”
“Do you want dessert?” Matthew asked, even though I hadn’t finished my dinner. And likely wouldn’t.
“I couldn’t eat it if I wanted to.”
“How about a walk? There’s a trail that goes along the river.”
“I’d like that.”
Usually, when the eating part of a date was over, the guys I’d been with wanted to get to the part where we took our clothes off. But Matthew paid the bill, we left our cars in the parking lot, and he led me, hand in hand, to the trail.
The sun was low in the sky, and the light sparkled off the water making parts of the swift moving river look like it had captured the sun and imprisoned it below the surface.
Matthew slid his hand in mine, threading our fingers together.
The pace he set was slow and leisurely, and the fact that there were so few people around made it a good time to ask things I was dying to know.
“What do you get out of it?” I asked, not quite knowing if that was the question that would get me the answers I wanted.
“Out of what?”
“Spanking people.”
“Pleasure,” Matthew answered automatically. “Pleasure first. It’s honestly hot as hell to have someone over your knee, knowing that they consented to be there. Knowing that after each strike they continue to consent.”
“Well, it’s hot as hell to be on the receiving end of that, I promise.”
He laughed softly and tugged me a little closer. “It also satisfies something inside of me that wants to help someone who can’t seem to settle. It’s a powerful feeling to be able to bring calm to someone’s chaos.”
“I think you get the short end of the stick. My ass got a juicy paddling, and all you got was a red hand.”
“All I got was a beautiful man in my lap, allowing himself to be vulnerable with me. I assure you that I don’t feel shorted. Not even a little.”
His words took the wind out of me. For the life of me, I’d been unable to imagine the appeal of being on the other side of the situation. I hadn’t been able to put myself in his shoes, and I still couldn’t, if I were being truthful. I didn’t want to be responsible for someone else that way.
“I still think I get the better end of the deal,” I told him after a minute.
Matthew just laughed and dropped my hand so he could drape his arm around my shoulders and tuck me in against his side.
He was a little taller than me, and more solid.
He had wide shoulders and arms that felt powerful.
I remembered the strength of his hand as it had come cracking down on my bare ass.
“So I’m like this… this honest brat that you like to spank? What does that make you?” Deep down, I thought I knew the answer before he said it. I knew the truth of it in the marrow of my bones once he did.
“Well, ideally, it makes me Daddy.”
“Ideally?”
I felt him shrug. “Some people aren’t comfortable with the title. And I try not to let it become a dealbreaker, but…”
“But it is.”
“Not everyone wants a daddy. Even if they are a brat. Even if they act like they need one.” He tried to laugh, but there wasn’t any humor in it. Just this deep, hard-edged sadness that even the sands of time hadn’t been enough to soften.
We walked in silence for a while. It was like he knew I needed some time to roll things around in my head. To say things to myself and see how they felt in my brain. To test how they made my body feel. And maybe he needed time too, preparing himself for possible rejection.
“So would I call you Daddy all the time or only when I’ve been bad?”
Matthew’s steps stuttered, and when he recovered, he pulled me closer and dropped a kiss against my hair. “That’s part of those negotiations I talked about earlier. You have to decide what you’re comfortable with.”
“I’m comfortable with you. Can that be enough for now?”
He stopped and turned so he was facing me. He glanced around, then pulled me close. “Like I said, almost everything is negotiable.”
I looped my arms around his neck and tilted my head up, angling for a kiss. “I have no intention of running away.”
And if he kept looking at me the way he did, I’d never want to leave.