Page 169 of Naughty November
“Where are you going?”
I suddenly felt too needy, too clingy. Gene smiled down at me.
“Did you have breakfast before you came here like I instructed?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good. Then I don’t need to feed you before we begin. But I do want to grab a glass of orange juice for us both.”
“Okay.”
I released his hand, reminding myself again of the protocol. Stay hydrated, sugars up. Everything Gene asked me to do had a purpose.
When he returned with our drinks, he handed me one wordlessly before sitting beside me, maintaining a respectful distance. We remained in silence, the dynamic soothing rather than awkward. Gene had created a quiet space for me to find my footing. His gaze didn’t demand anything from me, only offered comfort. This was what I loved about him, how he was always in control but in the most nurturing way possible.
I swallowed hard. I’d never make it through the next five minutes—let alone the night—if I allowed myself to think of love.
When I finally found my voice again, the words tumbled out of me in a rush. “I need you to know how glad I am to be here. I’m not doubting our connection anymore. I’m ready, Sir. Not only for what we do in a scene, but everything.” I sucked in a deep breath before continuing, “The club, out in public—even with our families—I’m not going to hide. I won’t run again.”
Gene cupped my cheek. “You’re my brave boy. But I’m not pressuring you. Everything will happen in its own time, okay?”
I leaned into his palm, closing my eyes, focusing on the warmth where our skin touched. After a few moments passed, he gently pulled me into his embrace. Before I could lose myself in the rhythm of his heartbeat, he whispered, "Are you ready to review the rules, go over your limits?"
"Yes, Sir," I choked out, my nerves threatening to get the better of me again.
“Here,” he said as he handed me a glass. “Take sips of this whilewe talk.” He locked eyes with me. “I know you’re anxious, so I need you to focus. We stop if I decide this is too much for you right now.”
My stomach tightened. “Would I have to leave?”
Gene wrapped his fingers around my nape. “Not unless you wanted to. If all that happens today is us spending time together reconnecting, then I’ll be a happy man. Remember, no pressure.”
As if Gene’s words had broken the spell crippling me with anxiety, a wave of calm washed over me.
“Thanks. That helps.” I rubbed my palms on the tops of my jeans. “Even if I’m nervous, I’m excited about what we’re doing today. But more importantly, I’m glad to be here with you.” I let out a small laugh, my emotions all over the place. “Going to Marc’s reception last night is one of the smartest things I’ve done in a while.”
A grin spread across Gene’s face. “Same here.” He took a healthy swallow of his own juice then set the glass down on the coffee table. “Let’s begin.”
He started with my safewords first. I’ve always used the colors because it’s what I got used to. Then, one by one, he reviewed the rules and limits we’d originally negotiated for our contract, the memory of that evening filling every corner of my mind and gripping my heart. As he spoke, the world seemed to fade away until it was only his voice filling the silence, reminding me of everything we had once shared. Being back with Gene was as comforting and terrifying as it had ever been.
Gene set down our contract. “Do we need to change anything?”
“No. Sounds great.”
He chuckled. “You seem quite sure of yourself.”
I ducked my head. Even though barely ten years separated us in age, at times, I felt like a kid around him. However, he didn’t talk down to me. It was more that he had such a commanding presence. I don’t know how anyone could resist handing over all their control to him.
I lifted my eyes. “I know what I want.”
His pupils widened, and I noted the slight elevation in his breathing. “Good. Let’s get started.”
He rose, offering me his hand. I fought to keep myself from fallinginto the never-ending trap of regret. I made a vow to myself that I would treat everything for the rest of the night as if it were happening for the first time. Our first scene. First contract. First kiss. And, of course, the first time he would be using the sounds on me.
We made our way to the playroom, holding hands with our fingers entwined. Gene had finished off his basement so it could be used as a dungeon, and the access was off the laundry room next to the kitchen. After we reached the bottom of the steps, Gene let go of my hand to retrieve a key from his pocket.
He glanced at me sideways. “I have a cleaner who comes in twice a week.”
I chuckled, nodding. “Good call.”