Jenna Black - Speak of the Devil

“When you submit to someone you trust completely,” Dominic said softly, still smiling, “you open yourself up more fully than you can possibly imagine. Every part of you becomes vulnerable. It’s not just an act of the body. You’re opening up your emotions, the very essence of yourself.” The smile turned a bit sheepish. “Of course, I’m speaking specifically of myself. Not everyone experiences it the same way.”

I took a slow, deep breath and tried to push my panic out when I released it. “But if I’m looking for a metaphorical way to symbolize my trust …”

“Only if you think Brian is open to it,” Dom hedged. “It’s possible he’d be too weirded out to even realize there’s a message, much less understand it.”

But instinct told me he wouldn’t be weirded out. He’d shown no hint of discomfort when things had gotten a bit kinky between us—hell, he’d been a lot more comfortable about it than I was—and he’d clearly enjoyed himself.

“He’d get the message,” I said. Assuming I was willing to deliver said message, and he was willing to receive it.

Dom nodded. “I can’t guarantee it will be enough,” he reminded me. “But it would say a hell of a lot more than a bunch of words ever could.”

I had to agree with him there. I cleared my throat. “So what would I, uh, do?”

There was what I could only describe as an evil glint in Dominic’s eye.

“One of the reasons falling in love can be so scary is that you’re basically giving the other person your heart, along with all the weapons he needs to destroy it. You’re giving him the means to hurt you terribly, and trusting him not to do it even though you have no tangible guarantee. So, think about how you can symbolize that to Brian.”

I squirmed. “I have no experience with this S&M stuff.” My face burned. If you’d asked me a couple of weeks ago if there was a chance in hell I’d ever have a conversation like this, I’d have laughed.

Dom shook his head. “This isn’t really about SM. SM is about the giving and receiving of pleasure, just in unconventional ways. You can work out a lot of trust issues during SM play, but it’s still about pleasure for everyone involved. I’m not sure you’re ready to do it for pleasure yet.”

I bristled. “What do you mean, yet?”

His smile was both placid and disgustingly knowing. “You know how some of the most vehement homophobes sometimes turn out to be gays who’ve refused to come out of the closet?”

My cheeks were so hot I feared I might spontaneously combust. The harder I tried not to, the more I found myself thinking about the fantasies Lugh had created for me—and about some of my more … adventurous sexual forays with Brian. I decided my wisest course of action was to pretend I hadn’t heard what Dom had just said.

“This asking-an-expert-for-help thing isn’t working too well,” I muttered.

“If you want my advice on how to dip your toes into the BDSM pool, I’m happy to help. But if you’re just looking to make a grand symbolic gesture, then I think the ideas have to come from you or the gesture loses a lot of its power. That doesn’t mean I can’t help out—it just means I can’t tell you what you should do.”

Dom’s words resonated somehow, and I knew he was right. This was my gesture to make. The idea had to come from me.

My heart fluttered erratically in my chest as an idea began to form. Dom had described falling in love as giving the other person the means to hurt you and trusting them not to. And that was just what I was going to do.

I dug my courage out of hiding and met Dom’s eyes. “I’d like you to pack me up another care package, if you don’t mind. I don’t want to know what’s in it, but it shouldn’t be wimpy stuff.” I’m not sure there is such a thing as wimpy S&M gear, but that’s beside the point. “I’ll take it to Brian’s, and if he doesn’t slam the door in my face, I’ll give him carte blanche to use whatever’s in the package.”

For the first time, Dom looked dubious. “I’m not sure—”

“Brian wouldn’t hurt me. Even if you put something awful in the package, he wouldn’t use it. In fact, you should put something awful in there.”

Dom bit his lip. “Are you sure you don’t want to—”

I shook my head. “No. I don’t want to know.” I forced a seriously nervous smile. “It’s a demonstration of blind trust.”

He was silent for so long I thought for sure he was going to refuse.

“I can always go buy the crap, but you know I can’t afford it. I’ll do it if I have to, but—”

“All right, all right. At least if I choose the toys, I’ll know it’s the good stuff.”

I let out a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Dom.”

He grimaced. “I hope you’ll still be thanking me later.” He pushed away from the table.

“Don’t wimp out on me, okay?”

He met my eyes steadily. “I won’t,” he promised, and I knew it was the truth.

I’ve faced a lynch mob that tried to burn me at the stake; a sociopathic demon who had every intention of torturing and then killing me; and a psycho demon who wanted to make the entire rest of my life a living hell. And yet I swear I was more frightened now, as I stood outside Brian’s door with Dominic’s “care package” at my feet, than I’d ever been in the face of true physical danger.

It had taken me more than three hours to get ready, as I’d considered and discarded about thirty different outfits, and at least another hour to nerve myself up to set foot outside my own apartment. Not that anyone would know how embarrassing my outfit was, since I’d covered all the sexy stuff with a mundane khaki shirtdress. No, the only sign that there was anything out of the ordinary was the pair of fuck-me pumps that had me teetering slightly with every step.

Everything I was wearing was brand-new, purchased specially for this occasion. The only reason it had taken me so long to get dressed was because I tried so many times to chicken out of my selections. But hell, if I was going to do this at all, I was going to do this right. If that meant adding a dash of humiliation to the experience, then so be it.

The people in Brian’s building know me by sight, and there was no sign they knew we had broken up. When I asked the front desk clerk not to call up to Brian’s apartment to let him know I was coming, he smiled at me and gave me a conspiratorial wink. It was almost enough to make me flee in terror, but once again I gave myself a mental kick in the ass.

Now there was only one thing left to do. I took a deep breath, wiped my sweaty palms on my dress, and rang the doorbell.

It was always possible I was getting myself all worked up for nothing. Maybe Brian would open the door, see me standing there, and shut it again without saying another word. Or I might tell him what I had in mind, and he would laugh at me. But in all honesty, that wasn’t how I expected this to go.

My heart was going at about a thousand beats per minute. When Brian opened the door, my heart went for a thousand and one.

The fact that he didn’t slam the door was both a relief and a source of terror. He cocked his head to one side, taking in my outfit from head to toe. His eyebrows arched when he saw the shoes, and he looked even more taken aback when he saw the suitcase that contained the “toys,” as Dominic called them.

“May I come in?” I asked in a scratchy whisper.

I would have liked to look sexy for Brian, but all I could manage right now was not to look too much like a deer in the headlights. He couldn’t possibly miss how nervous I was.

“This ought to be interesting,” he murmured, a wry smile on his lips, as he opened the door wide enough to let me in.