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“It was made very clear that I am not to share personal information with clients,” I said.
He ran his thumb gently across my lip. “I’d like to know.”
I hesitated. “If I tell you something personal, can I ask you something personal?”
“Yes, but I reserve the right to refuse if it’s too personal.”
“Fair,” I said. “My new boss started on Monday. I made a bad first impression and tried hard the rest of the week to prove to him that I was good at my job, but it didn’t work. He sees me in a certain light, and I can’t change his mind. I take pride in being good at my job, and this is my first time failing. It’s stressful to me because I want to please him.”
Mr. Steele’s body tensed beneath me, and scowl lines creased his forehead.
“Not in a sexual way,” I said quickly, “but I need his approval because my need for approval and praise dominates my life. I hate it, but I don’t know how to fix it.”
He stroked my back in slow circles. “Wanting approval isn’t necessarily something that needs to be fixed,” he said.
“It is when it affects my life so negatively,” I said. “One unappreciative boss, and I’m a wreck. I haven’t dated anyone in over two years because I am a giant green flag to a certain kind of guy. They’re drawn to me like a moth to a flame and my need for approval, for their praise, makes me blind to who they truly are. I wasn't surprised when the sisters told me how high I’d scored on the praise kink scale. The only other chart I scored on was for impact play, and it was what Catherine called a small blip. That threw me off, but Celeste said it probably just meant I like a bit of spanking now and then from a partner.”
I fell silent, realized with horror what I’d just said, and blushed furiously. “Oh God, that was way more personal than I meant to get. Could you forget everything I said after ‘I have a new boss, and I’ve made a bad impression on him’?”
Mr. Steele laughed, and the sound of his low laughter made something pull and tighten deep in my lower belly. I ignored my urge to lean forward and brush my lips against his.
“Can I ask you my personal question now?” I said.
He nodded. “You may.”
“Why don’t you get along with your parents?”
His hand on my back stilled for a few seconds before beginning its slow circling again. “They believe I was given something that belonged to them.”
“Oh,” I said. I had no idea what he meant by that, but I didn’t want to pry. It might upset him and make him end the play session, and I needed his praise tonight. Not just for the money but for my mental health, too.
He studied me and said, “When my grandparents died, they were wealthy. They left the majority of the wealth to me rather than my parents. My parents are angry about it and have never gotten over it.”
“I’m sorry, that must be difficult for you,” I said.
He shrugged. “My parents were never that attentive. Sometimes, I think they only had me because my grandparents wanted a grandchild. But the money has driven a wedge between us that can’t be fixed - at least not unless I give them the money they believe they’re owed.”
I took his free hand and squeezed it. “Your grandparents gave it to you because they wanted you to have it.”
“They did,” he said and gave me a small smile. “Trust me, I have no intention of giving it to my parents. They are in no way destitute and live a very comfortable life. Even if I gave them money, it wouldn’t be enough. It’s never enough for them.”
We sat silently for a few minutes before he squeezed my thigh. “If you prefer not to do a play session today, I’ll understand.”
“No,” I said quickly. “No, I want to do one. Please, I… need this.”
I was embarrassed by how eager and even a little pathetic I sounded, but Mr. Steele's smile warmed me better than the heat from the fire ever could. “I need it too, sweet Charlotte.”
Riley, I wanted to blurt out. My name is Riley, and I would love to hear how it sounds coming from your perfect lips. Instead, I said, “Thank you, Mr. Steele.”
He squeezed my thigh again. “I’ve left some work at your desk. Email it to me when you’re finished.”
“Yes, Mr. Steele.” I slid off his lap and hurried over to my desk.
CHAPTER 12
Deacon
I looked over the document Charlotte had emailed me before glancing down at her. She knelt on her cushion next to my chair. Her cheek rested against my thigh, her eyes were closed, and the look of bliss on her face as I stroked her soft hair sent contentment through me. What I wouldn’t give to have this every day.
