There’d been no transition period.
There was onlyI think we both know it’s time to end this, followed by a gentle request for her apartment key.
And now, after all that, Elena wanted to take it back. There was a thrill in that, for sure. Daphne felt a sense of relief she wished didn’t exist, the simple joy of being wanted.
But in the middle of everything, there was aknowing. Sudden and bright, like the first flash of lightning of a gathering summer storm.
She didn’t love Elena Watson. In fact, she didn’t think she’d loved her for a while, months before they’d even broken up. Daphnehad needed her. Neededsomeone, and that was very different from want. From love and passion and desire.
“I have to go,” Daphne had said, and then ended the call before Elena could respond. She stared at her phone’s screen for a second, the lake lapping gently at the dock. And maybe it was the summer night, the swirl of feelings in her stomach about April, or maybe she was just tired of being stuck in a cycle she knew wasn’t good for her.
Elenawasn’t good for her.
She tapped on Elena’s information, then selectedBlock Caller. She deleted Elena’s number and email from her contacts and slipped her phone back into her pocket before standing up and walking back to the house.
And she felt…good.
She felt lighter and hopeful. There was a sadness there too, losing Elena all over again, but it was a cleansing sort of pain, like cutting an infection from her body. Later, on the drive back to Cloverwild, she and April were silent, but the atmosphere felt charged, a million things between them that Daphne wasn’t sure how to talk about.
Now, nearly twenty-four hours later, she stood in a Victorian house with a literal sex dungeon in the basement, and she was determined to make the most of it.
“Oh, wow, those are boobs,” she said as the three of them walked into the living room. She pressed close to Sasha, who laughed.
“And thank god for it,” she said, arms folded. She was dressed in her usual tight white tee and tight black jeans.
Daphne tried not to stare at the person with soft brown skin on the puffy couch, who was wearing a sort of harness-like top comprised of black braided ropes, which knotted together between their two small breasts. Sparkly black discs covered their nipples,so it wasn’t as though they were fully tits out, and they sat serenely talking to a person with curly red hair who was wearing a navy maxi dress. Still, the shock of all that skin made Daphne keenly aware that she’d never experienced anything like this before. She watched the couple for a second, both of them at ease and sipping on cans of sparkling water, until the person in the harness locked eyes with Daphne.
“Oh god, oh god,” she whispered, looking down and grabbing Sasha’s arm. She was giddy with nerves. Or maybe excitement. Horniness? God, probably all three at once.
“Okay, Pollyanna, you’ve got to relax,” Sasha said. “We’re not even to the good stuff yet.”
“I know,” Daphne said, forcing her eyes up. Granted, she didn’t dare glance back at the couch. “I’m fine. This is fine.”
“You don’t have to do this if you’re not comfortable,” April said softly.
Daphne glanced at her and quickly found herself staring. April looked gorgeous tonight. Her iridescent hair was parted on the side and swooping over her forehead, the ends just brushing her shoulder. Her eye makeup was heavy, as usual, but it looked so good on her, and she’d paired it with a lilac-amber eye shadow and burgundy lips.
Also, she had on black leather pants.
Black leather pants and a lacy, Victorian-esque black top. Daphne wasn’t even aware she was into leather pants, but as it turned out, she was.
Very into them.
She had to focus to keep from staring at April’s ass every chance she got.
For herself, Daphne had struggled with a clothing choice, as her summer wardrobe consisted mostly of sundresses andsolid-colored tees. She’d ended up choosing a plain black cocktail dress she used to wear to gallery functions—black seemed best for a play party, though she truly had no idea—with spaghetti straps, a squared neckline, and a simple skirt that hit mid-thigh.
“I want to be here,” Daphne said, holding April’s gaze. “I just need a second to adjust.”
“Atta girl,” Sasha said, nudging her arm. “Plus, there’s no pressure to do anything. Some people just sit and talk. Some make out. Some play with sensation using feathers and thumpers.”
“Thumpers?” Daphne asked.
“Other people just come here for a cuddle puddle,” Sasha went on. “And some…well, some do more than all that.” She shrugged, dark blue eyes glittering and shifting from Daphne to April and back to Daphne. “Just depends on what you want.”
Daphne nodded, swallowed thickly. She didn’t even understand some of the words Sasha used to describe the party, but that was okay. That was the point. She had no idea if she’d want to do anything at all—honestly, the idea of kissing a total stranger was both alluring and horrifying—but Sasha was right.
She had to relax.
