“I’m listening.” He’s watching me from the corner of his eye as he walks.
“It’s not quite the conversation to have in public, Declan,” I reply as I glance at the other pedestrians around us.
“We’re in Amsterdam, Shakespeare. Whatever it is, they’ve heard it.”
I laugh out loud as I spot a pub to our left. With a grin and a shake of my head, I grab his arm and drag him inside. We find a corner table and order two Heinekens while I work up the nerve to have this conversation.
“All right,” he says, placing his hand on my bouncing knee. “Tell me everything.”
The pub around us is noisy, but the corner we’re in feels quiet and intimate. He’s leaning toward me over the warm glow of a lit candle inside a small green jar. Suddenly, all of my nerves dissipate as I realize this is Declan. I can tell him anything. I can trust him with my life. He won’t laugh at me or judge me.
I rest my hand on the table, and he instantly sets his on top of it as a show of comfort.
“So when I say that you can do whatever you want to me, I mean it. And I want you to. You could…” I gulp down my nerves. “You could tie me up. You could…punish me. Make me your slave or turn me into furniture for all I care. I just…like the idea of being…used by you.”
Declan doesn’t tear his eyes away from me for a moment as I’m speaking. And even after I’m done, he’s staring across the small space as if I’ve just stunned him into a trance. When he finally blinks and turns his gaze away, he has to clear his throat before speaking.
“We would need a safe word,” he says.
“Sure,” I reply with a shrug. “But that’s something you’d like?”
“Of course,” he says breathlessly.
Then, I lean forward until we’re just a breath away from each other. “I don’t just want you to take control, Declan. I want to feel your power. I want you to use it on me.”
He makes a noise somewhere between a growl and a whimper.
“Anything I want?” he asks.
“Yes, sir,” I reply, testing the title on him, and he responds by biting his bottom lip.
I wish we were alone right now, and I think he does too. Under the table, he squeezes my knee to the point of pain.
“Pick a safe word,” he says.
In my head, I know I’ll never use it. But he wants me to choose one, so I will.
“Amsterdam,” I reply.
“Fine,” he says. “Now, let’s get the fuck out of here.”
We ditch our half-full beers on the table and practically bolt out of the pub. We don’t say a word as we rush back to the houseboat. I stay just behind him as we go, loving the way this submission feels already.
I meant every word I said to Declan, but I wonder if he realizes just how far I’m willing to go for him. It feels as if our physical relationship is at a precipice, and it’s up to us to take it to the next level.
When we reach the houseboat, he unlocks the door, and we rush inside. “Get on your knees,” he barks immediately, not wasting one second.
I’m filled with excitement as I drop to the floor. My heart feels like it could beat its way right out of my chest.
He undoes his belt and walks toward me, looking sexier and more dominant than I’ve ever seen him. My cock is throbbing in my pants already.
“Listen to me, Shelby,” he says, and I notice the way he uses my last name in sexy scenarios. My first name is only for very cross, serious moments. And Shakespeare for everything else.
I gaze up at him obediently, ready to be the best fucking sub for him.
“I want to hear you promise me right now that you’ll use that safe word if you need to.”
There’s a flinch in my expression. That’s not what I expected to hear. “Of course, but I won’t need to,” I reply, trying to show him just how much I trust him.
