not being the effortlessly collected Dom all the other subs had when we went to parties or clubs. He was just there—a quiet, calm presence who intuitively knew what I needed as much as I knew what he needed. A lightning rod for my focus. An obedient submissive who made sure my coffee stayed full and I remembered to eat. A man who understood when I wanted him to kneel and when I needed him to hold me up. Maybe it wasn’t a normal Dom/sub dynamic, but it was ours, and I cherished it, and Kelly…
God, Kelly had slipped effortlessly into that right along with Aaron. He’d do anything I ordered him to in the bedroom, trusting that I understood and respected his limits. He’d bring all the pain my husband could handle, or he’d be the soft touch one or both of us needed. If someone wasn’t in the right headspace to play, then he was happy to hang out, or watch a movie, or talk about art, or cook with us, or just shoot the breeze while we shared a bottle of wine.
What if Aaron came back, but Kelly didn’t? The odds of us finding another submissive sadist were slim, but that part wasn’t the problem. We could find a thousand submissive sadists on Kinkbook, and none of them would fill the void Kelly had left. None of them would have his smile or his sense of humor. None of them would be the same mix of adorable and vulnerable and playful and mischievous.
There was only one Aaron. There was only one Kelly.
And I loved them both.
How do I bring the three of us back to each other?
Aaron
“All-nighter?” Kip grimaced as he stepped into the breakroom.
I grunted a more-or-less affirmative and finished filling my coffee cup. Then I moved out of the way so he could do the same. If he thought I’d just been here slamming my head against paperwork and trial prep, that was fine by me. The fewer people knew the truth, the better.
Except there was one person in this office who could always see right through me, and I cringed when he came in to fill his own coffee.
After he’d poured himself a cup and Kip had gone, Tom looked at me, skepticism all over his well-rested face. “You weren’t pulling an all-nighter, were you?”
I tried to play it cool. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, you obviously slept here.” He narrowed his eyes slightly. “But not because you were working.”
I was way too tired and stressed out to play games, I just grumbled, “Why?”
He watched me for a moment, then exhaled. “Because you said yourself yesterday that you don’t have anything pressing.” He gestured at my desk. “And don’t try to tell me a bunch of shit came down the pipe after hours, because nothing on your desk has moved since last night.”
I didn’t look at him.
“Dude.” Tom sighed heavily. “Why didn’t you call?”
“What?”
“You came and slept at the office? You would’ve at least been more comfortable on my couch.” He paused. “Plus I have booze.”
I laughed halfheartedly. “Booze does sound good.”
That brought even more concern into his expression. “Uh-huh, and you’re not one to self-medicate or sleep at the office unless shit’s real bad.” He gestured for me to follow him.
I didn’t want to. He’d want to talk. He’d ask questions. He’d want me to answer those questions. Of course he’d never try to strong-arm the answers out of me, but I just didn’t want to talk about this. I didn’t even want to think about it.
But the alternative was going into my own office, staring at all the work I’d forgotten how to do, and thinking about everything that had driven me here and kept me awake all fucking night.
So I followed him.
Tom closed his office door, and we both sat. From across his desk, he studied me. “What happened?”
It all came tumbling out. I didn’t bother holding anything back. It wasn’t like anything Will and I did together or with Kelly would be any surprise to Tom, and anyway, I didn’t have the brainpower to be cagey.
When I was done, he exhaled and sat back in his chair. “Wow. Jesus. So…what’s your next move? I mean, how bad do you think this is?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. I just… I have no idea.” Admitting that was almost as shitty as feeling it. I was used to working under pressure. In the courtroom or at the negotiating table, being up