She just didn’t know. A few days ago, she’d have said no. But she was so lonely. Was spending her life on her own any better?
God, she was so confused.
“Baby doll, I can hear you thinking from here,” Isaac told her. “Put your mind to rest for a while.”
“How?” she asked. “I feel like it’s whirling around and around, and I can’t stop it.”
“I can help you, if you can give me a bit of trust.”
She thought about that. Could she? She shouldn’t. She should be more careful. But who was she kidding? She was here alone with him and his brother. They could do anything to her, and she had no help for miles.
Yet she wasn’t afraid of them hurting her. All her fear had been about Doc getting hurt.
“I think I can,” she whispered.
“Then just let go for tonight. Let it all go. Stop thinking. All you have to do, right now, is what I tell you to do.”
“I…” Christ, could she?
“You’ll have a safeword. You can stop it at any time. But this is only about taking care of you. It’s not about sex. It’s not about me. It’s all about you. Okay? There’s no play, nothing sexual. I just…I have a deep need to take care of you, baby doll. It’s about who I am. My need to care for those around me. I can see you’re struggling. I want to ease that.”
“So you’d do this for anyone?”
He snorted. “Ahh, no. I haven’t taken care of anyone like this in a long, long time. Last time I tried; it all went horribly wrong. You’re special, Caley. You’re not like anyone else.”
The tension in her eased. It was what she needed to hear. She didn’t want to just be a person in a long list who he took care of.
She was special.
“Okay,” she whispered.
“Okay.” He set her down next to the bed.
“What do I need to do?”
“Just listen to me. Do you want to go Little?”
She shook her head. It might be easier in some ways, but she wasn’t ready for that. She’d shown him her Little side briefly. That was all she could manage right now.
“No? That’s okay. Whatever you’re comfortable with. Although, for the record, I think your Little is adorable, and I would love to spend more time with her.”
She could tell he meant every word. More tension eased. Jesus, he was potent. Archer was like Scotch. Smooth with a burn. But Isaac, he was a craft beer. Unique, with a bite.
“Okay, baby girl. For tonight, I’m just Doc or Sir. Whatever you would like. What’s your safeword?”
“Banana.”
“Banana?”
“I hate bananas.”
His eyes twinkled. “That so?”
“Uh-huh. They smell bad, they taste bad. The texture.” She shuddered. “Ick.”
“Are you a fussy eater, baby doll?”
She flushed. “Maybe a bit.”