It wasn’t meant to be like this, my swallow. I’m still hoping that one day, I can make it right.
Until then, remember to spend a moment in the sun.
Forever yours,
BK
4
Inara
The cityof New Rome has it all. Graffiti-covered concrete and parks full of ancient trees. High-rises and slums. Seven million people—many from the old country, streaming here by boat and plane to build a new life. The best and worst of humanity crammed into several square miles. I can walk three blocks and hear seventeen different languages. I can bump into a bum one moment and a billionaire the next.
This morning, I study each face. I strain to hear every voice. I’m looking forhim. The man from last night. The dom with the voice of an angel and the presence of an emperor.
I’m waiting for my order at the coffee shop when I sense his dark, dominant presence. The back of my neck prickles; I can feel the weight of his gaze on me. I ignore it, but the sensation builds.He’s watching me.
Then I hear the rumble of a deep voice.He’s here.I glance around the coffee shop but no one stands out until I see a man in a suit pushing out the door.
Before I can stop myself, I push past the waiting customers and rush out onto the sidewalk. In front of the coffee shop, a dark-haired man is disappearing into the back of a black town car, and for a stupid moment, I think—could it be him?
“Ma’am? Your order is ready—” The barista’s call is cut off by the closing door, breaking my delusion. The town car pulls away, and I stare down the street, feeling lost. Of course it wasn’t him. I’m so desperate to find him I’m imagining things.
Once I get my coffee, I head to the bus stop in a daze. Each step reminds me of him, of how he owned my body so easily. My sex is still swollen from the orgasm he gave me.
Have you ever wondered what it’d be like to let go? Let someone else take over?
He read my deepest, darkest desires like they were written on my skin. I never thought I’d find someone who would see through my thick walls, but he did. What’s more surprising is I liked it.
I settle into a seat at the back of the crowded bus. I finish my coffee and reach into my bag for my sketchbook.
There’s a sprig of jasmine in my purse. I didn’t put it there. Did it fall in?
Or did someone drop it in as they brushed past me?
Who? Why?
I scan the people around me. I can sense their auras, burning bright and almost overwhelming me.
I exit the bus early, worn out from scanning people. There are too many people and too many voices crowding into my head.
Even now, I can smell the mystery dom’s cologne. I can’t shake the sense that he’s somewhere close. I can feel him watching. And he could be anyone. . .
I turn down a quieter street and almost run into a couple exiting their townhome. He’s in a navy blue work uniform, and she’s in a skirt suit. They pause and kiss right in front of me without noticing I’m right there, watching. They break apart and head separate ways but keep their hands clasped until the last second, laughing as their fingers slowly slide apart.
A wave of longing slams into me, so strong I can’t breathe. It’s like a fist squeezing my heart, and the pain makes my eyes water.
Desperately, I jack my arm behind my back and press on the marks from the dom. The ache in my heart recedes, replaced by something safer. Something I can handle.
This is why I need someone to wield a flogger in a way that I carry the bruises into the next day. To keep me from wondering what it would be like to be touched by someone who cared for me. To be treasured by them. To love and be loved in return.
What would it be like to be held byhim?
This is exactly why I don’t allow anyone to touch me.
I charge across the street, ignoring the churning deep in my chest. I rush to get out of the way of a black town car that was rolling through a green light. My satchel bangs against my hip, and each step jars the marks on my back. I was stiff this morning but took only a single dose of pain meds, just enough to get me moving. The sting from the flogger has faded to a dull ache, but as I step onto the curb, I twist sharply so my back muscles scream and make the pain knife through me again.
If I’m lucky, the pain will wash every other craving away.
