AllFreeNovel
Share Us
A few inches to the right or higher would have been an entirely different conversation. One I don’t want to think about. One we don’t talk about.
Liam takes a heft swig from the bottle in his hand and drops it. He walks behind the bar and begins tossing other bottles to the floor and onto the bar. This was not the plan for tonight, but it’s going to be now.
Declan douses Stanley in bottom-shelf liquor as Conor and Finn drag the two men from earlier inside.
“Li, you okay?” Conor inquires when he notices Liam’s blood-sodden shirt.
“Never better. Chicks fucking love scars, right?” Liam smirks.
Still rolling his eyes, Conor flicks open his lighter and sets fire to the rag in a Molotov cocktail. He throws it at the far side of the bar as we all make our way into the kitchen. As we pass the stove, I pause to turn on all the gas burners, ensuring the pilot lights stay off.
We climb into the SUV, and Declan floors the accelerator. Rounding the block, Stanley’s bar bursts into flames with such force it rattles the back window of the Tahoe.
That should send a fucking message.
CHAPTER TWENTY
LAYLA
My entire weekend has been spent reading both books Tristan stopped by with. While they did answer a bunch of questions I had, they also raised about a thousand more. I thought my questions would all be about him, but I’m damned if I haven’t spent most of this weekend self-reflecting.
Until that hotel room, I never would’ve pegged myself as a submissive kind of woman, but I’m so fucking intrigued. Enough to think I might actually want to try something like this
I almost texted Tristan a handful of times, but considering I already wasted one of my questions, I’ve been trying to answer them myself with more reading and the help of the internet.
Which has only been mildly terrifying a couple of times.
There are so many types of submissives. Littles, masochists, service subs—I am quite certain that I am definitely not interested in any of those. Pretending to be childlike or being domesticated doesn’t exactly do it for me. As for pain, great for those who like it and all, but I enjoy being able to sit without flinching.
A bratty princess, on the other hand, that seems to fit. I love pushing buttons and the rise it gets out of people—especially Tristan. Being worshipped, doted on, and made to feel special and important—the way he treated me—yeah, that does it for me.
I’ve read up on a ton of dominants, too, and I am practically dumbfounded at how many different methods there are of being a Dominant. Sadists – no thank you – Daddies, soft Doms, Masters, riggers, feeders, financial Doms. All of them are so vastly different on how they choose to lead their submissives.
All I got from Tristan is that he likes submission. Full and complete control and obedience. But what exactly does that mean? There’s so much out there about Doms who want 24/7 control, access when and where they please, or even sharing their submissives with their friends.
And is that a length I’m willing to go to?
Am I even brave enough to give myself over to someone like that?
The amount of trust involved in letting someone else have full control over me is terrifying. But the way women talk about submission is the complete opposite. They rave about the adoration they receive and the bond they have with their dominants.
And fuck, if I don’t want that.
I’ve dated and slept with a bunch of men, none of whom have ever truly cared about me—or me about them. There have been enough of them that until the other night, I thought I knew what I liked when it came to sex. Yet, after one night with Tristan, I feel like an inexperienced virgin who hasn’t ever actually done anything.
TRISTAN
You’ve been awfully quiet, darling.
Some guy dropped off a few books I’ve been reading.
Good girl.
I read his response with his Irish accent, and I’m pretty sure if he says anything else, I will need new panties.
You can’t just walk around throwing out a phrase like that.
You earned it.
