They stayed like that for a few long moments and he couldn’t remember ever being happier in his life than right now. Cars came in and out of the lot and he barely noticed. The switch had been flipped. Flinching, being embarrassed, now meant hurting the woman he loved. Unacceptable.
He’d finally figured out whose opinion mattered. His. And hers. The rest of ’em could, just as she’d said, fuck off.
When Sam climbed off of him a few minutes later, she gathered herself back together and wiped away her tears. But a smile played around the edges of her mouth, belying the stern mistress face she was trying to pull off. She leaned into the car and pulled something out of her bag. A collar.
She put her hand out to him. “Ready to show everyone you’re mine, sub?”
He took her hand and pushed to his feet. “It would be an honor, mistress.”
She snapped the collar around his neck, the feel of the leather a thrill he hadn’t expected, and then she handed him a pair of tight black boxer briefs that had a zipper up the front. She cupped his growing erection. “Some things are meant only for my eyes, gorgeous. Cover what’s mine.”
He smiled and tugged on the shorts. He would’ve walked in naked if that’s what she wanted, but it did something to him to know that she didn’t want to share that view with anyone else. “All yours, Sam.”
“Mmm.” She gave the zipper a playful tug. “Boy, am I looking forward to undoing this later.”
“Man lingerie does it for you, mistress?”
She pressed up on her toes and brushed a kiss over his lips. “You do it for me, Gibson Andrews.” She laced her hand with his. “Now come on and show me what a good man whore you can be.”
He laughed and stole one more kiss. Then they walked into the big cedar-and-stone building hand in hand, both smiling like idiots.
Gibson thought the anxiety would return, that he’d feel the eyes on him and want to hide. But when they strolled past other members in the hallway and got raised-eyebrow looks—not at his state, because lots of people walked around in fetish wear here, but that it was him, Gibson the dom, wearing a collar—he only had to look at Sam’s face. The pride there, the pure pleasure she showed at having him with her like this, was all he needed. If he showed shame, it’d be shaming her. Screw that. He had the hottest woman in the place about to do depraved things to him. He was finally the lucky son of a bitch.
By the time they reached the demonstration room, he’d gone into role, finding the quiet in his head that he’d never been able to access before. He kept his head down and his focus on Sam, falling a step behind her on purpose. Onstage were coils of rope, a wall of floggers and canes, and a large Saint Andrew’s Cross at the center, a bare spotlight shining down on it. His stomach gave a kick—not of worry but of anticipation.
He didn’t even notice the audience in that moment. He couldn’t. Sam was going to use those things on him. All the fantasies he’d woven about her were now at his fingertips. Somehow, without forcing him, she’d moved him past the seemingly impossible hurdle anyway. He was out. Exposed. It was done. The people he was walking past saw what he was. No going back. Now he could simply enjoy the after. Finally, there was an after.
An after with Sam.
Only when he got to the front of the room and kneeled onstage did he catch sight of familiar faces in the crowd. Pike. Foster and his girlfriend, Cela. Grant and Charli. A few other friends and acquaintances. Low murmurs moved through the group as Sam got things set up behind him. He scanned the faces and one after another only showed one thing—smiles. They were happy to see him up there. Happy someone else had found what they needed in this crazy world. Because that’s what friends did. They loved you because, not in spite of.
Those were the only people who mattered.
And right as Pike was giving him a ridiculous devil-horns/rock-on sign with his hand, Sam stepped behind him on the stage and wrapped a coil of rope around his chest. “Everyone, I’d like you to meet sub Gibson. The man I’m going to tie up, whip ’til he begs, and screw ’til the sun comes up.”
Claps, catcalls, and wolf whistles came in response.
She pressed her hands to his shoulders and whispered into his ear. “The man I’m going to love as long as he lets me.”
He smiled and turned his head to look up at her. “I’m thinking forever sounds good.”
She stepped in front of him and gave him the full impact of her smile. “I believe I can work with that.” She cinched the rope tight. “Now shut up and be a good boy.”
He closed his eyes and forgot anyone else was watching.
She was his.
And he, hers.
She’d broken him without even lifting a finger.
Epilogue
“You know, I did hire an entire crew to do this stuff for you.”
Sam rocked in the new white chair on the porch and sipped her tea as Gibson sanded the wood frame of the front door. “Yes, and I’m very grateful for the plumbing and electrical work they did. But none of them look as hot as you when they’re shirtless and sweaty. Can you stretch a little for me? Maybe drop something and bend over real slow.”
“You’re shameless,” he said, flashing her that sexy smile over his shoulder and raking her over with a slow, hot look. “I love it.”