I walkedthrough Toronto in a daze, letting the city noise wash over me while I tried to make sense of what had just happened.
Then I found myself standing outside a sex shop without consciously deciding to go there. The window display was tasteful but unmistakable—leather and lace and the kind of items that made it very clear what kind of establishment this was.
I walked in before I could overthink it.
The interior was clean and well-lit, nothing like the seedy stereotype I'd been half-expecting. Shelves lined with toys and accessories, a wall of lingerie in every color and style imaginable,and a woman behind the counter who looked up from her phone and smiled.
“Let me know if you need help finding anything,” she said.
“Thanks.”
I moved through the store with purpose now. I wanted to go home to Rook and give him everything—my body, my trust, my devotion. I wanted to kneel for him not because I was broken but because I was choosing to offer myself completely.
The lace thong underwear was first. Red and delicate, the kind that would look obscene against my skin. Then the stockings to match, held up by elastic that would dig in just enough to leave marks. A collar—simple leather with a D-ring that made my pulse kick up just looking at it. Leather cuffs for my wrists. And a paddle, solid wood, the kind that would sting perfectly.
I brought everything to the counter and the woman rang me up without comment, wrapping the items in tissue paper and sliding them into a discreet black bag.
“Have fun,” she said with a knowing smile, and I left feeling like I'd just armed myself for battle.
The train ride back to the coast felt endless. I kept the bag in my lap and stared out the window, watching the city give way to suburbs and then to the open stretches of land that led to the ocean.
By the time I walked into the house, the sun was starting to set and the light coming through the windows had gone golden and soft. Rook was still at practice — I'd timed it that way on purpose — which gave me time to shower and change and decide all over again that yes, I wanted this.
I laid everything out on the bed like artifacts from a ritual I was about to perform. The lace. The leather collar. The cuffs. The paddle. Then I stripped and put it all on slowly, watching myself in the mirror as the pieces came together.
The thong sat low on my hips, barely covering anything. The stockings made my legs look longer, the contrast between delicate lace and my tattoos sharper than I expected.
I looked like someone's fantasy. More than that, I looked like myself — unapologetic and alive and choosing to be wanted.
I heard Rook's car pull into the driveway and my pulse spiked.
I moved to the bedroom and lowered myself to my knees at the foot of the bed, hands resting on my thighs, head bowed, waiting. The room was quiet except for the distant sound of the ocean and the tick of the hallway clock, and I stayed there in the stillness and let myself just be ready.
The front door opened. Footsteps on the stairs, heavier than usual. The bedroom door swung wide.
The silence that followed was complete enough that I could hear my own heartbeat.
“Fucking hell,” Rook breathed.
I looked up and found him frozen in the doorway, still in his practice gear with a thin sweat drying on his skin, staring at me like I'd knocked the air clean out of him.
“Hi,” I said.
He took a slow breath. “What is this?”
“I wanted to surprise you.” I shifted slightly, letting him see the full picture — the collar, the chain laid across the bed, all of it. “I wanted to give you this. Me. All of it.”
He crossed the room in three strides and dropped to his knees in front of me, hands cupping my face. “You don't have to?—”
“I know I don't have to. I want to.” I leaned into his touch. “I spent the afternoon with my dad and it was hard and complicated and it gutted me. But I survived it. And then I came home and all I could think about was you. How much I wanted to be here. How much I wanted to give you something real.”
His thumb traced my jaw. The war behind his eyes was readable even in the low light.
“Tell me what you need,” he said.
“I need you to use me. I need you to make me feel like I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be.”
He kissed me hard enough to bruise and I opened for him immediately. When he pulled back we were both breathing harder than the kiss should have warranted.
