Page 21 of Reckless

The question took me by surprise. How was I supposed to remember? I’d been high on endorphins, or whatever he’d said.

I wished I had reflected, and that I could give an answer that would impress him. Or at least make him stop staring at me. “I was fine. With what we did.”

“Only fine?”

I could still feel biscuit crumbs in my throat. I tried to swallow. A flash of memory: the weight of Alastair’s hand on my head, the way I’d floated till I couldn’t even feel the rug under my knees. “It was good. I did like it. A lot. I just wasn’t expecting it.”

“What were you expecting?”

No way was I answering that. Partly because I hadn’t known—still didn’t know—what to expect with Alastair. And partly because there were so many possibilities, I couldn’t have sorted through them, and I sure as fuck wasn’t going to try now.

Had I expected to be grabbed by the hair? Hurled onto the bed? Forced to my knees? Had I expected his dick shoved down my throat until my eyes watered? A slap across the face, a punch in the gut? To be fucked dry? Called names? Choked?

It was hard to picture Alastair doing any of those things. Which was exactly why I hadn’t known what to expect.

“Not…that.” Bloody brilliant at this, wasn’t I?

“Would you like me to do other things you might not expect? Within a framework we establish?”

I caught myself just before I repeated him. I didn’t want him thinking I was an idiot. I needed to show him I did have opinions about all this. But…within a framework we establish? Was he for real? “Yeah,” I said. “I would.”

He nodded. “Since you’re not sure exactly what you like, it might be best if we start by making a list of things you don’t like.”

I picked up the biscuit again but didn’t take a bite. I just needed something to focus on other than his gaze. I reminded myself that I’d been perfectly capable of looking him in the eye the other day, and I wasn’t going to let that change now. So I lifted my head, jutted my chin, and stared at him.

He stared back, but there was nothing challenging about it.

“What are some things you’d never want a partner to do to you?” he asked.

Damned if I knew. Hadn’t I pretty much let my ‘partners’ do it all? “Leave scars.” I wasn’t sure where that had come from. It had only happened once, and it was only a small scar, but still. I preferred bruises that would heal.

For a second, Alastair’s face was rigid. I couldn’t read what was in his eyes. “That’s a hard limit for me too. What else?”

A hard limit. Did I have those? I thought for a few seconds. “Drug me.” Preferred to write my own substance abuse destiny, thank you.

Alastair gave the softest sigh. “Alright. And?”

What the fuck? How long was this going to go on? “Like…fuck me up too much for…for me to…work.” I thought of Kat’s disapproving glare when I needed to sleep off a hangover instead of tending to the farm. And the time I’d pretended it was a hangover that was keeping me flat on my back, when it had really been my bruised ribs.

He was quiet for even longer this time. “Anything else?”

I was silent, staring at my biscuit again. “I don’t know.”

“What if I listed a few things? And you tell me if they interest you or not.”

“Sure.”

“Alright. Are you interested in being tied down, or made to assume a position with your wrists or ankles bound?”

I swallowed hard. My dick was definitely interested in that. Except I wished he wouldn’t ask. Wished he’d just do it.

“You don’t have to know for sure,” he said. “But I would like you to try to answer these questions.” There was a gentleness in his tone I’d only heard fleetingly before. He wasn’t ever harsh, just this was the first time warmth seemed to replace coolness. Something tugged in the pit of my stomach.

“Yeah,” I mumbled.

“Alright. Are you interested in being hit in a controlled way?”

My heart beat faster. “What’s a controlled way?”