my love, as you and I already knew,” he says. “God, I love your little microexpressions. So telling. If I didn’t already know you, I’d be able to read you like a book.”
“So you’ve said before, and I have no idea what that means,” I reply, narrowing my eyes.
“You know how people say ‘you wear your heart on your sleeve’ when they say you’re easy to read, nothing hidden away for anyone to see? It’s a little different, because you are hard for others to read, but being trained, I’m able to decipher the smallest hint of emotion in your face and in your body.”
“Probably comes in handy for this process,” I murmur, and he nods.
“Very. And what I just saw was… you have absolutely no interest, not one ounce of sadism inside that delectable little body of yours. And while the humiliation and hurt part of masochism weren’t high on your list, you were highly receptive to the being controlled aspect. You, Ms. Quill, are a submissive. Which we already knew, but now my expert opinion is confirmed,” he tells me with a wink, and I can’t help but smile. He’s so fucking charming.
“Now, as far as my job for the club goes… say you were a sadist. It would be up to me to be sure you aren’t someone who would go too far when inflicting pain—someone who would want to actually harm another person, instead of giving them mutual sexual pleasure. And the second reason for the sessions is to teach the prospective member how to use BDSM as a form of therapy to help them heal,” he explains, and I nod once again. I know from my books that the right D/s relationship could go a long way to heal a person who has suffered a trauma.
But I let him continue, because my God, he’s sexy when he’s in therapist mode.
“Normally, there is a reason one gravitates toward BDSM. There’s usually a catalyst that makes being flogged or gagged sound appealing. It had to come from something, no matter how minute. For some people, it’s as simple as they have a very high-powered position in their career, so when they come to Club Alias, they like to hand over the power and be controlled. Or maybe the opposite. Maybe that executive assistant who has to wait on their boss hand and foot all day likes a night at the club to feel what it’s like to be completely in control, to be the one giving the orders and receiving someone’s willing submission. But then there are the more complicated cases. The ones we have to take care of. The ones where something happened to the prospect that caused them to have these needs against their will. Cases like yours,” he finishes, and I fidget with the hem of my skirt.
“Understood,” I reply, not really wanting to go much more in depth about that right now. “Um… I think we got off the subject of my sister’s sessions and then her healing after. Can we get back on track?”
His face softens, seeing my discomfort. “Absolutely.” He holds his paper back up to read her notes. “Session three was different than the others. We went over in depth the… events that took place that could’ve had lasting damage on Twyla’s feelings about the BDSM lifestyle. The patient got emotional talking about the things that had gone through her mind while—” He looks at me, seeming to question whether or not to disclose everything in detail to me.
“Um… I found out all about what actually happened to my sister while she was in the hospital, in vivid technicolor detail. So I don’t mind if you skip ahead,” I reply, the overwhelming guilt sinking into my stomach to replace the jealousy that was there only a little while ago.
He nods, looking back at the paper. And then he smiles, and the expression seems so odd right now that I perk up to listen. “In the last session, Twyla confided she couldn’t understand how her now-husband could love her so instantaneously, even though she felt the same way about him in the same short amount of time.”
“Hm.” I smile along with him. “My sweet baby sister. She has no idea what a light she is in this world, does she?”
He meets my eyes. “She does now. Seth makes sure she knows every day. And it runs in the family.”
My cheeks turn hot, and I press my palm to my face as