As his arms are lowered, Jackson moves behind Daniel, catching him underneath his armpits when he’s no longer being held up by the chains. Daniel staggers backward and Jackson helps him to the ground, then he props him up against the wall. Jackson murmurs to him gently while he undoes the padded cuffs around his wrists.
Jackson’s so gentle with him. It seems incongruous with the insults he was shouting at him twenty minutes ago. Then I remember how the men earlier treated the woman suspended from chains, roughly fucking her one moment and then taking care of her the next.
I should be over there, helping him with Daniel. This is probably an important part of what it means to be a Domme. What happens after. The things you’re supposed to do to make sure your submissive is okay.
My feet carry me a step back instead. I swallow. So thirsty. I’m just so thirsty. I look over to the table. Why didn’t Jackson bring water bottles along with his bag of tricks? If only I had some water.
But then I notice something else at the end of the table. Towels.
I glance back to where Jackson is still talking to Daniel. I really should—
I turn away without finishing the thought.
I head toward the towels, wrap one around myself and I open the door as quietly as I can. As I try to slip out without being noticed, Jackson’s head pops up and a pair of dark blue eyes meet mine right before the door closes behind me.
* * *
Jackson finds me waiting for him in the room where we first changed clothes. I’m back in my work clothes. I don’t meet his gaze when he comes in. Tonight was amazing, beyond what I ever could have… just… beyond. That’s a good word for tonight. Fucking beyond.
That doesn’t mean I have any clue about what this is now between Jackson and me. Or how to even describe or… wrap my head around those moments back there when we… I pretended to rub at an invisible scuff on my sensible work flats. No more stiletto thigh highs for me. Which also leaves me feeling oddly bereft.
“Ready to go?” I expect Jackson’s voice to be disapproving for how I acted at the end. Disappearing instead of helping him with Daniel.
Instead, his tone is warm. Startled, I meet his eyes. The normally dark icy blues are lighter. His whole expression is soft. He already has his shoes and socks on and is buttoning his shirt. He hasn’t bothered changing out of his leathers and the contrast with his work attire is incredibly alluring.
“Callie?” he questions again. “You ready?”
I nod. Shit. I’m totally out of it, aren’t I? “Is there somewhere I can get some water?” There’s a gravelly quality to my voice and I’m not sure it’s just because I’m so thirsty.
His eyebrows go up. “Of course. I’m sorry, I should have brought some bottles along.” He shakes his head as if disappointed in himself. “Wait here and I’ll go grab a couple before we go.”
I nod again and he’s out the door. Half a minute later the door opens again. Wow, that was fast. But to my surprise, it’s not Jackson’s dark head that pops around the door.
It’s Daniel’s. He just sticks his head in at first, a boyish grin on his face. “Mind if I step in for a moment?”
Uh. Holy shit. He looks so… normal. “Of course.” I wave him in.
He slips inside and I don’t know what I’m expecting, but the concert tee, skinny jeans and converse all-stars aren’t it. No leather or dog collars in sight. He must think the same thing because he smiles and says, “Wow, you look very professional. Bet you’re some corporate big-shot like Jackson.”
“Not hardly,” I laugh as I glance down at myself. It’s funny hearing Jackson described like that, actually. I guess that yes, he is the CEO of a huge company, but I never think of him as very corporate. His mind is too creative for the label. He’s an inventor first and foremost.
“Anyway,” Daniel says, charming smile back in full effect. “I’m glad I could catch you alone. I wanted to give you my contact information in case you ever want to play one-on-one.”
He pulls a card out of his pocket. I look down and run my finger over the cardstock. Daniel Parsons. According to the card he’s a sculptor. I flip it over and see that he’s written his number on the back.
I look back up at him. He’s so relaxed and casual. Like thirty minutes ago he wasn’t chained to a brick wall and I didn’t have a dildo shoved in his ass while I screamed obscenities at him.
I have to shake my head a little at the incongruity of the image compared with the completely normal-looking dude standing in front of me. Already it feels like what went down was too surreal, that it could have only happened in a dream, not the real world.
“So give me a call sometime?” Daniel asks.
I look from the card back up to him. “I don’t really know what I’m doing.” I gesture around us. “You got that tonight was my first night, right?”
Daniel’s smile softens. Then he reaches over and his hands close over my fingers holding the card. “How do you think Doms and Dommes start off? It’s just a myth that they all have some wonderful mentor. Most of them have subs help them as they figure everything out. I’m happy to be your test subject any time.”
Again with the charismatic smile. “I really enjoyed my time with you tonight and I think you have more potential than anyone I’ve seen in a long time to be a really powerful Domme.” He dips his head down as if he’s shy saying this last part.
Then he takes a step away and lifts his head. “Anyway.” He shrugs and laughs a little. “Just remember, I’m here if you ever need me.”
I nod and raise his card a little for emphasis before putting it in my pocket. “I’ll keep that in mind.” I mainly do it to make him feel good. I might not have done what I should have earlier in caring for him after the scene, but I’m not going to shut him down when he reaches out.
I doubt I’ll ever call him. If Jackson wants to involve him in the future, I could be down with it. But one-on-one? God, I’m not ready for that. Plus, after tonight, the idea of getting together with Daniel without Jackson there… it makes my stomach twist up. Because it would feel like… again I just have that feeling of wrongness.
What the fuck? I don’t owe Jackson anything. What the hell is wrong with me? He takes me out on one date… or whatever you’d call tonight, and I’m suddenly declaring we’re exclusive or some shit? This doesn’t make us boyfriend and girlfriend. Far, far from it.
Daniel waves and I manage a smile for him. He goes to open the door, but just as he does, the knob moves and Jackson pushes the door from the other side. The two men stare at each other in surprise for a second.
“I was just saying good night to Mistress,” Daniel says, a slight tension entering his voice.
A crease appears between Jackson’s eyebrows. His eyes ping-pong between me and Daniel before he nods. “All right. Good night, Daniel.”
Daniel hurries out the door and Jackson holds out a water bottle to me. I grab the bottle and head out into the hallway. I have half the bottle drunk before we’re outside. Oh blessed water. Drinking also effectively keeps me from having to talk to Jackson. Bonus. Unfortunately, that only works until the bottle is empty.
Jackson holds out the second bottle to me, but I shake my head. “I’m good,” I say, gasping a little because I didn’t breathe much while I downed the water.
A small smile of amusement curls the edges of his mouth. “Next time, just tell me that you’re thirsty.”
Next time.
I look at the cobbled stones in front of the building where we stand waiting for the valet to bring the car around. I was already thinking in terms of next time too, though, wasn’t I? Just moments ago, with Daniel. I’d thought I wouldn’t mind being with Daniel again only as long as Jackson arranged it and was present. Because I was wondering when we’d be doing this again.
Next time. Fuck, what does all this mean? Even as I question it, scenes from tonight flash on repeat. The absolute exhilaration in the moments where I took control of Daniel. Shoving the dildo up his ass
and conquering him completely.
But not just Daniel. Jackson too. By the end, I captured his attention so completely, I’d mastered him as well.
The heady sense of exhilaration hits me all over again, even while standing on the sidewalk dressed in my completely sensible business attire.
Next time.
Yes, there will definitely be a next time.
Chapter Eight
CALLIE
My muscles burn and I seriously contemplate murder as I stare at the clock on the wall that slowly counts down to zero. Fifteen seconds to go.
“Don’t start slacking now,” shouts the CrossFit instructor. “Every second counts. You’re only cheating yourself!”
“She means you,” my sister Shannon adds oh so helpfully from beside me where she does another squat with a kettlebell.
I glare at her, groan, then jump onto the knee-high box again. I make it, thank God. My legs feel like jelly after the thirty-minute session. I look to the clock again. Nine. Eight.
“Get those last reps in. I see those of you trying to wait out the clock.” The instructor’s eyes zero in on me. I’m tired enough that her attempt at shaming only just barely works.
“Told you she meant you,” Shannon says, straining to get out of the squat. “Mother of the deity, this damn thing weighs a thousand pounds.”
“This is all your fault,” I whisper back. “You were the one who wanted another way to wake up ever since your boyfriend got you off coffee.” Damn Sunil, her Buddhist boyfriend.
I jump off the box. The instructor’s still staring at me. Five seconds left on the clock. Her stare turns to a glare. Mother fucking bag of shit pissing—
I jump up on the box one last time and then the buzzer sounds announcing the end of the session.
Shannon drops the kettlebell and collapses on the floor. “Don’t blame me,” she huffs, gasping for breath. “I wanted—” she pants, “—the yoga class. CrossFit was your bright idea.” She wipes the sweat off her brow with her forearm.
I sit my ass down on the box and dangle my feet as I catch my breath. Mother fucking CrossFit. I push some sweaty hair that’s fallen out of my ponytail behind my ear.
“The whole point was to wake you up. Yoga’s shit. It would put you to sleep.” I take a swig of the water bottle I brought with me. “Besides, this is whipping our asses into amazing shape just like Lydia said it would.”
She just makes a face at me. “You suck.”
I grin. “What are sisters for? Come on, get your ass up, lazy. Unlike some people, I have to show up at an office on time.”
Shannon flips me off and I laugh, then stand and hold my hands down to help her off the ground.
She takes them and I hike her up till she’s standing beside me. “Ugh, get off of me, you’re all sweaty.” She lets go of my hands and pushes me away.
Which only makes me try to hug her.
“You are so gross,” she squeals and holds out both hands to keep me at arm’s length.
I relent, but only because I’m fucking exhausted. In spite of what I said to Shannon, I agree with her about CrossFit. There are some things that are just wrong to put your body through at six-thirty on a Thursday morning. Especially since I’ve barely been able to sleep since Monday, tossing and turning in my sheets all night.
I can’t stop thinking about it. Constantly running through every second of what happened with Jackson and Daniel. Jackson. God. I haven’t run into him at work at all. When he dropped me off on Monday, he said the next move was mine to make.
He’s respected my boundaries since. Which alternately makes me grateful and irrationally pisses me off. The last thing I need right now is Jackson chasing me, but Monday was… just wow. Off the charts intense. I obviously can’t stop thinking about it. Was it not that way for Jackson? How the hell has he not even tried to contact me, boundaries or not?
I lean my head back and blow out an exhausted breath. Yeah. Way too early in the morning for this shit. Not that I’d ever let my sister know I regret signing us up for the class.
“Great job, class,” says the instructor, flashing a bright, toothy smile. “I’m so looking forward to working with you all next week while Indira is out visiting family.”
“Make her stop,” whispers my sister. “I can’t handle that much pep before seven a.m.” She pauses as if thinking, then adds, “Or ever, really. Did you hear how she introduced herself as Brittani with an ‘i’? Like when we’re cursing her in our heads for torturing us, is it really that big a deal that we’re internally misspelling her name?”
I don’t do a good job of stifling my bark of laughter as I stumble on my jelly legs for the door. For having such a Zen boyfriend, Shannon’s kind of a pessimistic bitch. Which of course makes me love her.
We’ve never been as close in our whole lives as we have been the past couple months. Well, maybe when we were really, really young. But we were little more than strangers for most of my adolescence and all of my adulthood. Even when she lived with me and was helping raise my son.
Then we reached our make or break moment when I lost Charlie. To be honest, I thought for sure it would break us. Instead, Shannon’s stuck with me. We’ve talked more in the past few months than in the whole decade before. We don’t talk about a lot of deep shit, but we talk. We’re… sisterly.
She tells me about her boyfriend, her first really serious relationship. I tell her about my new friends at work and my job. She tries not to judge me so harshly and to let up on telling me what to do. I keep half of what’s going on in my life—aka, my sex life—secret so she doesn’t have shit to lecture me on. I’d say overall she and I are a work in progress.
“Don’t forget to stretch,” Brittani with an ‘i’ calls out to the class. Shannon and I ignore her. I might stretch a little bit if I have time. Shannon works from home with her graphic design business, but I’ve got to get my ass to work.
“If you don’t stretch, lactic acid can build up in the muscles and—”
The door shutting behind me cuts off Brittani’s perky voice. My legs feel shaky.
“Shit,” I say, putting a hand on the wall for balance. “Would it make me a pussy to hold onto the wall all the way to the locker room?”
Shannon looks over at me and glowers. “No, it wouldn’t, because that would indicate weakness and pussies—a word I don’t like at all by the way—are incredibly strong. They push human beings into the world.”
I pause and stand up straighter. “Day-um. I’d high-five you if I could lift my arm. You’re just full of hidden depths.” Then I realize what I just said and start laughing, cracking myself up. “Hidden depths,” I manage through a wheezing laugh. “Pussies—they’re full of hidden depths. Get it?”
She rolls her eyes and puts a hand on her temple. “You are so juvenile. Are you ever going to grow up?”
I grin at her as I stumble along. “Not if I can help it. Hey look, we made it to the locker room.”
She pushes through the locker room door, still shaking her head at me.
“Callie!”
I look up when I hear my voice called and see Lydia coming around the corner of the lockers just ahead of me.
“Oh thank God, Lyd, help me to one of the benches before I collapse!”
She shakes her head at me and looks to Shannon. “I take it you did CrossFit this morning?”
“I told her we should have done yoga,” Shannon quips.
My legs give out as soon as I make it to the bench that runs along one wall of the locker room.
“It’s your fault,” I accuse Lydia. “You said we should take it.”
Lydia holds up her hands in a show of innocence. “I said that because Indira’s usually the teacher. I don’t know anything about this new chick.”
“She’s the devil.” Shannon only barely lowers her voice to relay this bit of information.
“I thought you were Miss Peace and Sunshine now?” I look at Shannon with an eyebrow raised. “We’re all connec
ted by universal energy that we can tap into through meditation, blah, blah, blah.”
She shrugs. “My worldview doesn’t have to include evil CrossFit taskmasters. I can leave her in the Judeo-Christian realm. Therefore, hell and devils. Of which she definitely is one.”
I can only stare at her for a second, then I burst out laughing. “You are such a piece of work.”
She gives a mocking smile. “All right, I’m off. I’ve got the meeting with Keller today. See you later.”
She gives Lydia a little wave, then she heads off to grab her bag from her locker. She’s never one for drawn-out goodbyes or chatting just for the sake of catching up. Since she works from home, she just showers from there.
Lydia sits down beside me and I drop my head onto her shoulder. “Why can’t you just teach all the classes? Then you could give me special treatment and everything would be perfect.”
Lydia laughs again and pats my knee. “Oh, poor spoiled baby. I’m sorry, are you actually being forced to get in shape? Besides, look at these guns.”
She pulls back and grabs one of my arms. I put up no resistance and it’s completely floppy under her grasp. She holds it up in a muscle-man pose. Then she narrows her eyebrows at me.
“It doesn’t work if you don’t flex, bitch.”
I make a whiny noise but she just slaps at my bicep without a care. I groan but do as she asks. I flex and she feels around the muscle definition. She makes an impressed noise.
“See? A little torture goes a long way.”
I pull my arm back out of her grasp and sprawl more on the bench, doing a total man-spread thing. The bench is plenty long and there’s not enough people here for me to be in anyone’s way so I’m not being a dick about it. I just don’t want to hold any part of my body up.
“Oh my gosh, I have never met anybody more dramatic in my life. Don’t you have to get to work?”
I close my eyes and groan. “Don’t remind me.”
Lydia smacks me in the stomach and stands up.
“Oww,” I whine even though it didn’t hurt. It’s just how Lydia and I are. I sit up straighter as she turns to go. “Wait, I haven’t gotten any updates on you and Red since last weekend. What’s going on with that?”
Break So Soft: Break So Soft Duet Page 13