Worry filled her face. He wondered if she’d even come back a second time.
“Betsy, I’m going to need you to tell me a few things since Angus just dumped you and ran off.”
She winced. “Okay.”
She wasn’t going to chew his ear off all night at least.
“When you address me you need to call me Sir.”
“Sorry, Sir,” she whispered.
“Did Angus go through a contract with you, about your limits?”
“He said that I should come and watch first
before I settled on my limits since I don’t really have any experience. I’m not certain what my limits would be.”
“Well, I’d say the bullwhip is a hard limit, huh?”
She shuddered. “Ahh, yeah, think you can say that.”
“So you’ve never been to another club before? What made you decide to come here tonight?”
She was silent for a moment. “I guess I just wanted to try. You don’t know unless you try, right? And I’ve always been interested in this.”
“Would you like to do any playing tonight?”
“Only if you wish to, Sir.”
He shook his head. “Not how this thing works, brown eyes.”
He wasn’t sure why he was drawn to her. She wasn’t his type. He liked curves. He preferred some sass with the sweet. Someone who lit up a room with their energy and bounce. Betsy was more refined. Elegant, even with the cheap outfit she was wearing.
“This isn’t about what I want or need. Tonight is all about you. It’s your choice what you do. I’m merely here as a guide. I’ll show you through the dungeon. You ask me questions, I answer. I’ll point things out, you think about whether it’s something you’d like to try or not.”
She was watching the sub tied to the St. Andrews Cross, her cries of pain filling the air.
“Don’t worry, Annie is a masochist,” he explained. “Rory has been married to her for ten years. He knows what she needs. What you’re watching is entirely consensual.”
“It’s really my choice whether to play or not?” she asked quietly.
He frowned. Fuck. She really did know nothing. What was Angus thinking?
Unable to stop himself, he reached out to touch her chin, turning her face towards him. She flinched back then stilled. He narrowed his gaze but dropped his hand. He got it. She was in a strange place. With a man she didn’t know. A big, tattooed, muscular guy who made terrible jokes. He was six foot one and over two hundred pounds while she couldn’t be any bigger than five foot five and well underweight in his opinion.
“Is it me? I know my size and tats can be intimidating, I can try and find you someone else—”
“No!” she said quickly. “No, please. Don’t leave me, Sir.”
“Hey, it’s okay,” he told her soothingly, his protective instincts ramping up.
“It’s not you. In fact, I feel amazingly comfortable with you considering I’ve just met you.”
This was her when she was comfortable with someone? Holy hell.
“I mean you are a bit intimidating looking. You’re big and with all those tattoos. But I think they’re gorgeous,” she blurted out. Then she turned her face away from him. “I mean…ah…shoot…umm.”
“It’s okay,” he told her, having to bite back a smile. He didn’t want her to think he was laughing at her. “Is that a hint of a southern accent I hear?”