by S R Watson
“So how did it go?” Irelyn asks as she joins us outside. I would have thought she would have beaten us out here.
“Don’t know yet,” Ren speaks up. “Desiree told us that she enjoyed our performance and that she would be in touch by Sunday.”
“Yeah, but she stayed for the entire show, so that’s something,” Killian offers.
“I think you guys have this in the bag. You gave so much variety and really showed your range of style as artists,” Irelyn says. Harlow nods her head in agreement. I sure hope so. This is what we have been working toward. I can’t thank Sevyn enough for the connection.
“I didn’t think you guys were paying much attention. You were so wrapped up in those college shits.”
“Are you kidding me?” Harlow speaks up. “We have ears and eyes. You were doing a pretty good job yourself of being wrapped up in skankville row.” Jealousy and disdain drip from her sarcasm, and I have to work hard to contain my laughter. It is almost too cute.
“Skankville row?” I seek to clarify, although I’m sure I know the women she is referring to. They’re my most loyal fans.
“You know. The thirsty women who are always front and center,” she confirms. “Skankville row.” I can’t help it. I laugh my ass off, and the guys join in on the laughter.
“That’s awesome,” Killian amuses. “Haven’t you fucked like all of them?” I swear Killian doesn’t know when to shut the fuck up sometimes.
“No, I haven’t, dipshit. And you fuckers have tapped some of that, so shut it. Why are we even discussing groupie fucks in the midst of these women, anyway? I’m sure they don’t want to hear that shit.” I look over at Harlow, and her face is tight. She is probably already regretting her decision to let me fuck her again. Gah, this motherfucker is ruining my shit. I’m going to have to work that much harder to get her to give in to her submissive nature.
“Yeah, really classy,” Harlow says, rolling her eyes. She gets in the truck, and Killian falls silent as he realizes his mistake.
The ride home is full of discussion about tonight’s gig and speculation on our chances of landing a record deal with Pretty Boy Rock. I can see the girls talking quietly among themselves. I don’t know if I’ll have a chance to get Harlow alone again before I have to leave in the morning. I have something to take care of again, and I’m sure Asher will be taking them back before I return. Even so, I’m glad we had tonight. She’s been on my mind since last weekend. The way things ended that morning was unsettling.
My thoughts have cycled through various instances of leaving her the hell alone and introducing her to my brand of kink. I know that I’m not good for her, yet the selfish part of me can’t find a reason to let that stop me. I thought I had time on my side to maybe fuck her out of my system, but that one taste was addicting. When Asher announced that she was coming to the show tonight, I knew the task of staying away from her would be challenging. Seeing her tonight in that dress and owning the room made the decision for me. I’ve never felt so out of control. My reaction to her needed to be addressed. This was submission in its rawest form. It called to my repressed nature in a way that left me powerless to fight it any longer.
I can’t give her a relationship or promise of more. There will be no illusions of happily ever after, but I can introduce her to what she doesn’t even know she’s craving, my dominance. The question is, can she handle what I’m prepared to offer? My dick twitches in my jeans at just the thought. This should be interesting. Now to determine the best way to tell her she is a submissive and what that means. We finally arrive back at the house, and I use the last opportunity to get a word in to her. As she climbs out of the truck, I quickly whisper in her ear.
“We need to talk,” I say.
Chapter Fourteen
Harlow
I could barely sleep last night. My last encounter with Phoenix, along with his ominous statement that we need to talk, was on constant replay. I’m back in the room where I spent this past summer, and all the memories flood my mind, including my first run-in with Phoenix in the shower. I look over at Irelyn, who is still knocked out next to me, even though it is well after nine a.m. I guess my body just has an aversion to sleeping in. I decide to get up and grab a couple of cups of coffee. The soreness of my ass as I walk down the stairs reminds me that last night did very much happen.
“Morning, Harlow,” Phoenix says from the kitchen. He is leaning against the counter, waiting for the Keurig to finish brewing his cup of coffee.
“Morning,” I say, waiting for the ball to drop. What is he going to tell me? “Where is everyone?” I ask, looking around. The house is too quiet.
“Either sleeping in or already left.” The Keurig stops, so he grabs his mug and empties the chamber of the used k-cup. “All yours,” he offers while gesturing toward the coffeemaker. Why is he drawing this out? Apparently, he needs to tell me something, so why hasn’t he brought it up yet?
“What did you want to tell me, Phoenix?”
“What do you mean?” He genuinely looks confused. His eyebrows knit together in question.
“Last night, when we got back, you said we needed to talk.” He thinks it over for a second and scratches his head.
“Oh well, I don’t remember at the moment.” He moves aside and lets me brew my coffee. He is different today somehow. I’ve experienced his hot and cold before. I must say that I’m not a fan.
“Look, if it’s about what happened last night, don’t sweat it. It was fun, and now it’s over. You don’t have to worry about making things awkward.” Phoenix walks over to me, and I’m not ready for his response. He cups my face and kisses me slow and passionately. There is no hesitation or teasing like he normally does. This kiss is unlike the others. I feel that he is trying to express himself this way, but I have no idea what it means. I wrap my arms around his neck, and he deepens the kiss. He palms my ass and brings me closer to him. I don’t miss the bulge in his jeans.
“Shut up,” he finally says, breaking the kiss. “Get out of your head.”
“What does this mean, Phoenix?” I don’t want to push or have expectations, but I’m not a mind reader. What are we doing? What does he want from me?
“Uhhh, I have to go, Harlow. We’ll talk later. I can’t answer that right now.” He takes a huge sip of his coffee before he jets in the direction of the door. So, he’s running again. What the fuck? One thing is for certain. We do need to talk. He can’t keep screwing with my emotions.
I march upstairs and grab my phone. Phoenix gave me his number right before I moved to the dorms, but I have never had a reason to call him. I think this warrants a phone call. His phone goes straight to voicemail. Shit. I’m not willing to give up, though. I need answers, so I know what I need to do. Later, when Asher gets ready to bring us back, I can’t go. Irelyn will have to go back alone. Phoenix will have to bring me back tonight or tomorrow, but I’m not leaving here without answers. I don’t want to spend all week trying to figure out his cryptic messages and indecisiveness.
When Phoenix gets back to the house, he is stunned to see me sitting on the sofa. He looks around before walking over to me.
“What are you still doing here?” He looks at his watch. It’s just after two. “Asher told me he was bringing you and Irelyn home around noon.”
“Yes, he left to take Irelyn home about an hour ago.” I fidget because I know this is it. I can’t chicken out.
“Well, why didn’t you leave with them? What’s going on?” He lowers his voice. “Where is everyone else?”
“They’re all gone. I stayed because we need to have that talk. The kiss this morning was confusing and unfair. I feel like you’re taking me on a ride I didn’t agree to get on.” I watch as he clenches his fist and his face hardens.
“Kiss?” Okay, so tough shit. He doesn’t like me bringing up the kiss. Maybe it was a moment of weakness for him, but it shows even more why we need to talk.
“Okay, forget the kiss. Last night you said we needed to talk. What did you mean
by that?” His face relaxes, and he runs a hand through his hair.
“Honestly, I didn’t think we’d be having this conversation today. Thought you’d be gone.” He takes a seat next to me and rests his elbows on his knees. He laces his fingers together and then finally looks over at me. “Be sure you want to know what you’re asking,” he warns.
“I’m tired of tap dancing around the unknown. What the hell are we doing, Phoenix?”
“Well, princess, I thought we were fucking, but what do you call it?” He smirks, and I swear I just want to smack the sarcasm right out of him.
“Okay, I see this was pointless.” I stayed for nothing. He’s not going to be serious. He just wants to string me along. Damn him, if he thinks I’m just going to serve up the ass the next time he gets the urge to mess with me again. I’m halfway standing when he uses one hand to push me back onto the sofa.
“Sit down, Harlow. You want answers…just remember you asked for them. I won’t sugarcoat shit.”
“I didn’t ask you to.” We stare at each other for what seems like an eternity before he breaks the silence.
“You’re a submissive,” he says bluntly. He stares at me expectantly, waiting for my reaction. What the fuck?
“What the hell are you talking about? No, I’m not.” What kind of crack is he smoking, because surely he’s tripping or high or whatever the fuck crack does to you.
“Do you even know what it means to have a submissive nature?” He quizzes me like it’s supposed to fucking matter. I’m not that. I roll my eyes. See that. That eye roll means fuck you, I voice internally.
“It means some freaky kink shit, where you get off on the guy telling you what to do, and if you don’t listen, he gets to beat the shit out of you until you conform. No, thank you.” He is biting his lip, obviously trying to keep from laughing at me. “What-the fuck-ever. I’m not one of those ‘please spank my ass and make me listen, Sir’ kind of bitches.” Holy shit. The other night…in the storage room… he said, Sir. He was trying to get me to say, “Yes, Sir.” Stop the fucking presses. Is he trying to tell me now that he is a dominant? Wait. And the song about him having demons. Holy shitballs.
“I see the wheels turning, princess. Say it.” I scoot over a tad away from him. Does he want to beat me? “Your analysis of what it means to be submissive is wrong, by the way. Women read too many romance novels. That shit isn’t real life.” It’s his turn to roll his eyes.
“So you’re a Dooommm?” I stutter.
“Dominant,” he finishes for me. “I am, I guess, but not in the traditional sense. My tastes are somewhat modified, and I don’t practice this on a regular basis. I’m very selective and very private, so I don’t go to BDSM clubs or anything remotely similar. There are varying degrees to the term, but yes, I like control. I’m different in that I don’t spank women—not to inflict pain anyway. I happen to like slapping your ass. It’s just so inviting and curvaceous. No, there are other means for me to deliver punishment if I deem it fitting, but there is no need for the most part. The acts I partake in are consensual. The woman wants to submit—hence never forced or coerced. If a woman doesn’t want what I want, I walk away, simple as that.” My mouth falls open with all that I have just learned about him. I have to say. I never saw that one coming. I just thought he was a manwhore.
“But we didn’t do any of that control stuff you’re talking about.” I have to say my curiosity has been piqued. How has he hidden this about himself? I would have never guessed.
“Exactly. You weren’t ready. I don’t share this part of myself with every woman I fuck.”
“Sheesh. Why not? You consider it some sort a gift. Some sort of privilege.” Give me a break.
“Something like that,” Phoenix admits. I’m baffled. “That is not a part of me that I share willingly. It’s my dark place, and not everyone is equipped to handle that side of me or deserves to know something so personal about me. If it’s going to be a quick rocks-off session, why bother? They won’t be around long enough for me to care to indulge.”
Hearing him talk about fucking someone else stings a bit. I don’t want to picture that shit. “So how does any of this make me a submissive?” I want to get back to his first accusation. How did he arrive at such an asinine conclusion?
“It doesn’t. The two are independent of one another. My tendencies have nothing to do with yours. I just recognize the trait because I am a dominant.” He turns and places one knee on the sofa. He is facing me now, and I can’t escape his scrutiny. He is watching my every move—my reaction to whatever it is he is about to tell me. “A D/s relationship is about power exchange, but a submissive is not powerless or weak. The submissive willing submits because she trusts that she will be taken care of. You’d be surprised to learn how many powerful women, executive types, practice the lifestyle. The relinquishing of responsibility can be liberating. The woman’s willingness to submit is her power.”
“Again, what does that have to do with me?”
“From the moment we met, there was a connection. I think subconsciously our inner needs recognized the traits in one another. That first day, you conceded to letting me keep my things in the closet of your room and to sharing the master bath with me, although there were other bathrooms in the house.”
“That’s only because I didn’t want to be a bitch and make you find a place for all of your shit after I just took the room that was once yours. Also we were the only two bedrooms upstairs. Why would I insist you use a different bathroom than the one upstairs with us? It’s called compromise.” How in the hell did he make that inference? So I must be a submissive because I let him keep his shit in my room and was willing to share a bathroom?
“Then there was the shower incident. You stood there, frozen in place, and watched me shower. You could not move because I had affected you at that moment. Without trying, I had control. Just briefly, but it was there. I just didn’t make the connection until thinking back on it last night.” I laugh, but he just stares at me.
“You are quite delusional.” Add that to your repertoire — manwhore, dominant, and delusional.
“Hmm. Then it was the change in your clothing. You started with the baggiest shit ever known to man. It may be simply coincidental, but after our run-in with you getting out of the shower and conversation of how beautiful you were, things changed. You didn’t need the clothes or the makeup that you were hiding behind. You subconsciously submitted to my wishes.” If my eyes bug out any further, I think they’ll pop out of my head.
“Just wow.” It’s the only coherent thought I can form at the moment. “Irelyn is the one. You know what? Never mind. I don’t believe any of that.”
“I can think of several instances, now that I’m thinking about them, but I won’t explore them all,” he continues, like I haven’t said anything. “Your last and final acts of submission was at the club last night. Contrary to your extreme need to be covered, you wore the skimpiest piece of fabric one could get away with and still call it a dress. Of course, it was for my benefit—you needed to get my attention. You were seeking my approval, my desire, per se. It made my cock so hard during my whole performance. I knew I had to fuck you. I had to give you a taste of what you were asking for.” His eyes are hooded now as he recalls our romp session in the storage room.
“If all that isn’t proof enough, you gave me the most precious gift. I say precious; because it is something that you have never given to another, yet you gave to me so freely. You let me claim your ass, literally, in a final act of submission that erased all doubt for me.” I don’t know what to say. Yes, some of the things he said have some merit, but that doesn’t make me a submissive. It makes me a woman who is ready to explore her sexuality, after believing for so long that this feat wasn’t possible.
“Phoenix. You have your perceptions and idealizations about the reasons for my behavior. I can’t change that. You’re entitled to your opinion. The question is, what are we doing? You’re so hot and cold. One mi
nute you’re dismissing me, without so much as a word or explanation, and the next minute you’re fucking me in the ass in a storage room. I’m not just a piece ass for you to fuck between groupies when you’re bored, or simply when the mood strikes because you think you recognize some submissive behavior from me.” There I said it. I didn’t let my traitorous body keep me from getting my point across.
“I’m not looking for a relationship, Harlow. I won’t be your boyfriend. I can’t give you that. I would be lying if I said I didn’t want to explore a D/s relationship with you. In that, I won’t sleep with anyone else. We would be exclusive.”
“I’m not looking to be your kinky sex slave, Phoenix.” He throws his head back and belts out a hearty laugh. It’s so contagious that I can’t help but join in. We’ve gotten into a serious topic here, yet he is able to lighten it with a simple laugh.
“Absolutely not, princess. Let me show you a side of me that so few get to see. I promise you unimaginable pleasure. I will introduce you to things that will make your body sing. You can refuse or change your mind at any time. I’m not into pain, so you don’t have to worry about that. Mostly just a release of control and allowing me to introduce you to some things.” The look in his eyes is hopeful. I can’t believe I’m even considering this, but he said I could refuse anything or change my mind. I’m somewhat afraid, but I want the pleasure he promises. I want to take back my power by my decision to give it to someone. It will be my sexual experience, to be of my free will, and not decided for me.
“Do I need a safe word?” I look down at my intertwined knuckles. Phoenix cups my chin and makes me look up at him.
“We will discuss beforehand the things I want to try with you, so you can tell me if anything is a hard stop. If you decide to try it and don’t like it, then you simply tell me to stop, or in some cases, dig your nails in my arm.” Why would I dig my nails into him? Or do I even want to know? “I don’t want to talk about safe words right now, though, because my dick is already getting hard and ready to play. Unfortunately, I know the guys should be back any moment now because we’re supposed to hear from Desiree by four today. It turns out that we don’t have to wait until Sunday,” he finishes.