Her fingers tightened on his arm with every step and murmured comment. Covering her hand with his, he drew her attention with a gentle squeeze. “Ignore them, love, and focus on why you’re here with me.”
She stumbled as her wide eyes met his. “That’s just it, Master Crone.” Her voice dropped to barely a whisper as they stepped through the doorway. “I’m not sure... I don’t know why I’m here.” A quick glance over her shoulder betrayed her unease. “I fear you might have expectations that I can’t fulfill.”
He paused, turning to face her fully. Raw vulnerability shone in her eyes but there was also a determination not to run. “Let me worry about my expectations, Sienna.” His thumb traced circles on her hand, gently calming her. “This moment is between you and me, and we are looking forward to sharing a scrumptious dinner and conversation.” Another gentle squeeze. “For now, that’s all I ask.”
The tension in her shoulders eased slightly. “I guess I can do that.”
“Good girl.”
His heart swelled at her trust. She might be terrified, but she was willing to try. For now, he could work with that. At least the foundation had been laid.
Sienna
Connor’s Steakhouse at Rawhide Ridge
Sienna’s head bobbed in every direction as she absorbed the splendor around her. After two years of self-imposed confinement to Rawhide Ranch’s main buildings, the restaurant’s sweeping elegance stole her breath.
Mountain peaks pierced the darkening sky beyond vast windows, while the last rays of sunlight spilled across Rawhide Ranch’s rolling landscape below. Her gaze traveled up pine-clad beams to where the cathedral ceiling created an illusion of opening the space to the heavens. Nature and architecture merged seamlessly with the iron chandelier overhead echoing the surrounding forest’s wild beauty in the intricate metalwork hanging from its center. The effect was both intimate andexpansive, as if they dined in a secluded clearing high above the world.
White linen draped each table with the pristine cloth being offset by delicate maroon napkins wrapped around polished silverware. Her pulse quickened when their server guided them to the outdoor patio. Sienna loved being outside as the setting secured her need for freedom. She wondered if Crone had somehow known she would be more relaxed surrounded by the clean mountain air when he chose this specific table.
“I never realized such beauty existed beyond the Ranch’s boundaries,” she said in awe. “This is… magical.”
“I am honored to be the one to share this experience with you.”
Sienna’s gaze drifted to Crone across the table. Another man might have offered those words as empty flattery, a calculated move to lower her defenses. But Crone’s raw honesty had already carved through her walls. He wielded truth like others wielded charm, and that made him dangerous in an entirely different way.
He lounged in his chair with predatory grace with one hand wrapped around a glass of mojito. Nothing about his sprawled form suggested vulnerability or carelessness. Instead, he reminded her of a coiled serpent that was deceptively relaxed yet vibrating with contained power. Ready to strike.
The memory of his thumb against her throat sent fresh heat curling through her belly. His touch had awakened a raw, primal need within her. Desire simmered beneath her skin and she was hyperaware of every shift of his muscles and the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. The intensity in his silvery eyes told her he knew exactly what effect he had on her, and he was in no hurry to ease the tension building between them.
“Why are we here, Master Crone?” The question burst from her lips before she could second-guess herself.
“Crone, Sienna. Drop the Master... at least until later tonight.” The silken threat in his voice sent liquid fire racing through her veins.
Lifting the mojito, she used the moment to rebuild her defenses. The title Master served as armor, a way to maintain distance. She suspected he was all too aware of her strategy. Every Dom she had scened with since her arrival lived in that carefully constructed box in her mind. It was the only way she could keep their associations clinical and controlled. She needed that box to keep it uncomplicated with no probing questions about her past or expectations beyond the scene itself. Least of all to allow anyone the chance of them burrowing beneath her skin and destroying the walls she had built around her heart.
Crone Lange refused to stay in that box. Right from the start, he had skillfully invaded her defenses. Her body hummed with overwhelming feelings, yet she craved more. The simple act of dropping “Master” threatened everything she’d worked to protect.
The battle was still waging inside her whether to comply when the words escaped from deep within her, “Why are we here, Crone?”
“Good girl.” He smiled briefly but his gaze remained sharp and focused on her. “How did you find the whipping last night, little one?”
Her response meshed into an unintelligible mumble. His eyebrow lifted. She stared in fascination at the silver streak as the scar caught the light. She burned with the desire to ask how he got it, but his dark voice drew her attention back to his question.
“Sienna.” Her name carried gentle reproof. “No Dom appreciates a mumbling sub. Sharing how the scene affected you is an integral part of aftercare. This is our talk, and as such, I’m not going to let you walk away from it.”
Heat crept up her neck as she gathered her thoughts. How could she explain that the devastating cracks of his whip had mirrored the fracture in her carefully constructed walls? That his steady voice had guided her back when the familiar void beckoned?
“It was... different from other Doms since I arrived.” She traced the rim of her glass. “When you wrapped your hand around my throat, I should have panicked. Instead…” The memory of his touch ghosted across her skin. In that moment, trust had bloomed, a feeling so complete and foreign it was terrifying in its intensity. Their connection had materialized as his presence wrapped around her soul in a quiet vow to keep her safe. Something deep within her recognized and welcomed his silent promise to protect and understand without demands.
“Instead?” he prompted softly.
“I felt secure… safer than I have ever felt with anyone else.” The admission cost her. “But I don’t understand why. You’re essentially a stranger, yet something inside me recognized you.” She swallowed hard. “That scares me more than the whip ever could.”
“Good girl.”
Frustration surged through her. If she wasn’t seated, she’d be stomping her feet at how those two simple words cocooned her in warmth. When Stan had used them, they’d scraped like sandpaper against her skin. But from Crone, they felt like… home.
