"I know so. You're too good at this to waste it."
After I leave, I sit in my truck for five minutes, processing. My back feels better than it has in years. My phone has her number. She calls me Sir like it's natural as breathing.
And I'm falling for her. Hard. Fast. Completely.
four
Lilah
I'mgettingusedtoGeoff showing up to class, staying after, coming up to my apartment where I work on his broken body while we pretend this is just physical therapy and nothing more.
Tonight feels different. There's something charged in the air when he walks into my apartment after class, something that makes my skin prickle with awareness. His eyes are darker than usual, and the way he looks at me makes my stomach flip and my breath catch.
"How's the back today?" I ask, trying for normal conversation even though my voice comes out too soft.
"Better. Always better after you work on it." He doesn't move toward the massage table like he usually does, just stands there in my doorway, watching me with an intensity that makes me feel exposed. "Lilah, we need to talk about this."
My face feels like it’s on fire. "About your back? Because I think we're making real progress with the deep tissue work and—"
"About you calling me Sir. Me ordering you around. The way you melt every time I praise you." He cuts through my nervous rambling with surgical precision.
My hands still on the massage oil bottle, heat flooding my face as he names the thing we've been dancing around for weeks. "What about it?"
He crosses the room in three strides, and suddenly I have to tilt my head all the way back to see his face. "You know what kind of relationship this is heading toward?"
My mouth goes dry, but I force myself to answer honestly. "The kind where you set rules and I follow them? Where you're in charge and I..." I swallow hard against the vulnerability of saying it out loud. "I trust you to make decisions?"
His voice drops lower, rough with something that might be need or restraint or both. "Where you're mine to protect, discipline, care for, treasure. Where I'm your Daddy and you're my little girl."
The words hit me like electricity, making every nerve ending come alive. I've been reading about this for years in those romance novels I hide on my Kindle - the power exchange, the trust, the safety of having someone else in control. I thought it was just fantasy, something that happened in books and nowhere else, certainly not in a small mountain town where everyone knows everyone's business.
"I've been reading about it," I admit quietly, the confession feeling dangerous and freeing at once. "In books. I thought it was just fantasy but—"
"But it's what you need." He says it like a fact, not a question, and somehow that makes it easier to admit.
"Yes, Sir."
He cups my face with both hands, those callused palms rough against my cheeks in a way that makes me feel delicate and protected. "Say it properly. What do you want?"
"I want you to be my Daddy." The words come out in a rush now that I've started. "Want you to take control. Make the decisions I can't make. Tell me when I'm being good and discipline me when I'm not."
"Then we do this right. Safe words, limits, full consent, no rushing." His thumbs stroke my cheekbones, grounding me. "This isn't a game, Lilah. This is real, and we're going to do it properly."
"Then we do this right. Safe words. Limits. Full consent. No rushing."
My heart is pounding so hard I'm sure he can hear it. "I trust you to guide me."
"That's a lot of trust to give someone, little girl." His eyes search mine, looking for doubt or hesitation.
"I know. But you've already been taking care of me." I reach up to cover his hands with mine, holding them against my face. "This just makes it official."
He sits on the edge of the massage table and pulls me between his legs so we're almost eye level, his thighs bracketing my hips. "You understand what you're agreeing to? I'll control your schedule, your meals, your bedtime. I'll have rules and expectations. There will be consequences when you break them."
"Consequences?" The word sends a thrill through me even as I ask.
"Punishments. Spankings, corner time, losing privileges. Whatever it takes to keep you healthy and safe." He's watching my reaction carefully, giving me every chance to back out.
I feel relief flooding through me like warm water, washing away all the exhaustion and stress of trying to be everything to everyone. Someone else making the hard choices. Someone else being the bad guy when necessary. Someone else holding the weight I've been carrying alone for so long.
