Chapter 16 - Vince
Vince
I’d gone from liking this girl to needing her in a way that didn’t feel sane. Every time she ended up on me like this, it got worse.
I was in trouble.
A tiny wrinkle sat between her brows, even in sleep, like she never really stopped bracing.
“Relax, angel. You’re safe.” My thumb smoothed over that line until it eased.
That was the problem.
Safe around me meant something I hadn’t asked permission for yet.
She made a small sound, and burrowed closer. Her nose nudged my chain. Fingers curled around it the way they always did, that unconscious little claim that wrecked me every time.
A slow smile dragged at my mouth.
“Comfortable?” Knuckles dragged through her hair again, just to feel the way she leaned into it.
“Mm. If you stop, I’ll sue.” Her words, muffled against my chest.
“You can’t sue me for pausing.”
“Watch me. Emotional distress. Loss of service.”
“You’re very dramatic for someone freeloading on my lungs.” My fingers kept moving. Scalp to ends. “And you know I don’t do half-measures. If I stop, it’s permanent.”
“Threatening to cut off head pats is abuse. There are laws.” She half pouted.
“Write them. I’ll ignore them.”
She tipped her head, studying me instead of my chest.
“You look very serious. Whats wrong?” Her thumb rubbed over a link of my chain.
“You ever going to answer a question straight?” My gaze held hers.
“That would be wildly off-brand.” Two fingertips tapped my chest. “You first. What are you plotting, Vincent Crow?”
I took a sigh. Now or never, crow.
“I want more.” The words came out harder than I’d planned.
She frowned. “Of head pats? Because I feel like your output has been acceptable, contractually speaking.”
“More with you.”
“Oh.” Her mouth parted. “More how? Because my people tell me that’s usually when men launch into a speech about labels, and I’m morally obligated to warn you I have… concerns about us and brunch.”
My fingers tightened in her hair. “Not brunch. Not that kind of label.”
“You don’t want um… boyfriend-girlfriend?” The words came out soft, like she wasn’t sure she wanted the answer.
“No.”
My thumb traced her jaw, slow. The line between her brows threatened to come back.
“You don’t want that, or you don’t want it with me?” Her hand loosened on my chain.
“I want more than that. Not less.”
“Define more?”
Deep breath. No way to make it sound smaller than it was.
“You remember what I told you about my tendencies? Control. Hypervigilance. How I get when I care about something.” My thumb stayed at her jaw, grounding both of us
“You mean how you go full Crow warlord if someone breathes near your port manifest wrong? Vaguely.” The corner of her mouth twitched.
“Yeah. That. I don’t do halfway, Madeline. Not with anything. Especially not with people.”
“You’re… worried you’ll overstep?”
“I know I will if I don’t have structure. If I’m guessing where the lines are while every part of me is screaming to lock down your schedule, your security, your food, sleep, inbox. I can’t live in maybe.”
Color rose under her skin.
“So what does more look like in Vince language?”
“Dominant and submissive.”
Her whole body froze. Please don’t run. Please don’t run.
“Oh.” Her eyes wide. “Oh.”
I watched the assumption hit, weekend scenes, novelty collars, back to normal on Monday.
Her hand slipped off my chain.
“That’s… a lot. I don’t… know anything about that.” Her gaze dropped to look anywhere but at me.
“I can teach—”
“No.” She cut across it fast, shaking her head
“No?”
“I mean, I’ve seen… clips, articles, whatever. I know it’s… intense. You should probably find someone who knows what they’re doing with that. Someone experienced. I don’t want to… disappoint you.”
“That’s not what I’m asking for.”
“You literally just used the words dominant and submissive. That’s exactly what you’re asking for.”
“I want something real. Not something we pull out in hotels and hang back in a closet after. I’m not looking for a kink partner.”
She lightly gulped. “What do you want, then?”
“You. All the way. Full-time. My say over certain things. Your trust to give me that say. Rules. Rituals. Structure. Not as a game. As baseline.”
My fingers tightened at her nape. I couldn’t hide my possession. I had tendencies. Hiding who I was would only cause her problems.
“You’re talking about… lifestyle.” Her eyes searched my face.
“I’m talking about real. Crows don’t play dress-up with power. If I take that on with you, it’s because I intend to carry it. Not for a night. For as long as you let me.”
The rest stayed where it belonged, for now. Not said. I wouldn’t scare her with history and facts.
She chewed her lip. “I don’t… know anything about that world. There are contracts and protocols and safe-words and apps and… you’ve clearly thought about this. I’m… not on your level, Vince.”
“You think I want less because you haven’t done it before?”
“I think heirs don’t usually volunteer to onboard virgins into anything. Let alone that.”
“Virgins?”
“You know what I mean. New. Inexperienced. Whatever the polite term is. And you’re… you.” She flapped a hand at me like that covered three decades of sins. “You don’t date. You don’t have time to coax some clueless little idiot through feelings and rules and aftercare checklists.”
“Don’t call yourself an idiot.”
The words came out sharp and she flinched. Barely. But still, unacceptable. My baby, doesn’t flinch from her dom.
My thumb gentled, stroking her cheek. “I’m not looking for a fully trained submissive with a resume. That’s not the job.”
“Can I… think about it?” Her gaze lifted back to mine
I couldn’t blame her. Dynasty had already taken a wrecking bar to her autonomy. I was asking for what was left.
“Of course baby,”
I gently kept running my fingers through her hair. Even though my chest tightened.
Because the second she spoke, something inside started bracing for no. For watching her slip away and pretending I could do simple with her. Lie to both of us.
She rolled away, on her side, back half to me. Hands tucking under her cheek.
A cold dread like feeling rushed through me. As if I felt a door closing. Crow training whispered, accept loss, reposition, protect the asset anyway. My heart answered, over my dead fucking body.
“Vince?”
My eyes stayed on the ceiling. “Yeah.”
“Can I… say something without you…? Without you going full Crow about it?”
I rolled onto my side, facing her. “No promises.”
Her mouth twitched. Then she exhaled, fast.
“I do want to be your submissive. I do. But I’m… I’m not…” Color flooded her cheeks. “…equipped.”
“Equipped how.” My hand slid back into her hair, thumb at her temple.
God. I hadn’t touched her for minutes. It might as well be hours. The way my body reacted.
“I’m a virgin.”
What. The. Fuck. I froze.
“And before you freak out, I’m not expecting some perfect first time. I just thought you should know before you commit to this and then realise your new sub comes with a manual and no practical hours logged.”
Everything in my head blanked. My beautiful girl referring to herself as something I would use, and not loved. Before I could speak, she kept talking quickly.
“I haven’t had time to date. My calendar’s been curated since I was twelve.
Activities. Tutors. Academy. Chambers. I graduated early and went straight into work.
My mother needs a perfect dynasty daughter.
My father needs a perfect heir. There are always more meetings.
More optics. I made peace with losing it to whoever they merged me with. ”
My jaw clenched so hard it hurt.
Her fingers twisted in the sheet. “This is the first time I’ve… wanted someone. I got stuck in an elevator with this tattooed Crow I should’ve run from.”
Yeah. Elevator. Dark. Her shaking. My voice in her ear. The time everything shifted and I pretended it hadn’t.
“I know you don’t date. Everyone knows. So I assumed whatever this is has a ceiling. We flirt, maybe mess around, then you get bored and I go back to being inventory. So when you said Dom and sub, all I could think was: he has no idea how new I am. And I don’t want to be work for you.”
“Madeline.”
She winced. “You’re mad.”
“I’m not mad you’re a virgin. I’m furious you thought you had to hide it.”
“I wasn’t hiding it, I just—”
“You were going to say no to us, because you pre-decided what I needed.”
“I’ve heard how heirs talk. They don’t like dealing with virgins. It’s slow. Messy. Emotional. They don’t have time to be gentle.”
“I’m not them.” My hand tightened at her nape.
She watched me like that might be true, but dangerous to believe.
“You should’ve told me in the bath.”
A deeper flush climbed her throat. “That was the first time anyone’s touched me like that. I didn’t even know where to put my hands.”
I’d known it was a lot.
I hadn’t known it was first.
“Oh, baby…” The words slipped out, rougher than I intended.
“See? This is exactly what I didn’t want. You feeling responsible. You’re thirty-one. I’m twenty. I’m not enough—“
“Stop.” The single word cut through her spiral.
Her mouth snapped shut. I closed the gap until there was nowhere for her to look but at me. My fingers threaded into her hair, thumb resting just under her ear.
“Listen. Carefully.” My gaze held hers. “I don’t have a line-up of ex-subs behind me. No contract archive. I have this.” A tilt of my head toward the bed. Her. The whole mess of my life. “You. That’s it.”
Her brows pinched. “You’ve never…?”
“Had a submissive? No.”
But you’re… you. I’m supposed to believe you’ve never—”
“I’ve fucked.” No point lying to her. “I haven’t done this. I don’t invite people into my head.” My thumb smoothed along her cheekbone. “This? Asking you for this? Isn’t a hobby. It’s me putting every controlling, protective instinct I’ve got on the table and asking if you want them.”
I wished there was a less possessive. way to tell her that. Her breath hitched.
“So when I say I want you as my sub. I don’t mean I want an experienced toy. I mean I want you.”