Page 23 of Piece Us Together
“On me. On my—I have scars.” He shifts on his feet before peering up at me. “I—will they bother you? I can keep my shirt on if—”
“No,” I say immediately. “Fuck no. Hey, no, Nolan.” I stand now, taking a step toward him before doubting if it’s my place to comfort him.Is this a dom thing? A boyfriend thing? Fuck, this is going to be messy. I’m just going to have to follow my gut in these situations until one of them puts me in my place. “Nolan, I am going to love every inch of your body, as long as it’s submitting to me. Do you understand?”
His shoulders soften, a shuddering breath falling from his lips. “Yes, sir.”
“Is it alright if I touch them? Kiss them?” I ask, since scars weren’t mentioned in his packet at all.
“Y-yeah. That’s fine.”
“Is there anything about them you want me to know?”
He glances at Maison, the two of them exchanging a look I can’t interpret. Then he shakes his head. “No, sir. I just didn’t want you to be surprised or—or anything.”
“Thank you, Nolan.” I tilt my head toward the hall, deciding it’d be best if I don’t linger on the topic. I don’t want him to feel like I’m treating him differently than I was before knowing about them. “Go on, now. Kneel for me. We’ll be right there.”
His lips curl into a small smile. “Yes, sir.”
I let him disappear down the hall before sitting and turning my attention back to Maison. The slight worry and discomfort the conversation had brought on doubles at the look Maison has fixed on me.
The man looking at me now is the same man who pulled a gun on me the night we first met. There’s enough anger and violence in the cold look to have my stomach dropping. I don’t let it show on my face, though, just like that first night. My voice is perfectly calm when I ask, “Do you need something, Maison?”
“I’m trusting you here.” His voice is as cold as the look in his eyes. Dark. Distant. “You have no idea how big that is. Nofuckingidea. If you hurt him in the bad way, in a way he doesn’t want, I’ll fucking end you, alright? I’ll end you so well, there won’t be a trace of you left. I’ll end you to the point where people will doubt you ever fucking existed. Do you understand?”
I want to ask him where he hides this side of himself. I want to ask him if it’s even a genuine side of him or a carefully constructed act. I want to ask him what experience he has that makes it so he can do what he’s threatening to do—because I have absolutely no doubt he can.
There’s a chance those questions will lead to me getting punched, though. Or, at the very least, him leaving with Nolan in tow. I settle for placating him instead. “He’s in good hands,Maison. I promise.” I take a breath, then take a chance. “Youbothare.”
His jaw ticks. “Do. You. Understand?”
“Yes.” I sigh. “I understand.”
He looks away, his hands flexing against his thighs. I watch him struggle to control his face. To control his breathing. He ends up squeezing his eyes shut, the right side of his jaw clenching. I give him a few seconds to flounder before saying, very softly, “I’ve got this, Maison. You can stop worrying. You can let go, just like him.”
He breathes out slowly, the exhale shaky, before he meets my eyes again. He’s soft now. Open and vulnerable and terrified. There’s not a trace of the man who threatened my life just a minute ago. My heart hurts a little, seeing how easily he switches back and forth. That’s quite the emotional whirlwind he seems to be an expert at navigating.
“You’ve got this,” he rasps.
“I’ve got this,” I confirm.
He nods. Then nods again. “Okay.”
“What are the safewords, Maison?”
His eyebrows pull together. “Uh—green is good, yellow is pause or slow down and talk things through, and red is everything stops right away.”
“Those are your safewords, too. You know that, right? Not just his. Not just mine. You can use them, too.”
“I won’t, though. I won’t ruin this for him.”
“So, you’ll…what?” I ask, letting just how unimpressed I feel about that seep into my tone. “You’ll just not safeword and risk ruining everything instead? Because if you don’t safeword and things go sideways, I won’t trust you to be in a scene with us again. If you don’t safeword and your head gets fucked up because of it, you won’t be able to handle trying again. Ifyou don’t safeword, you could ruin everything, Maison. And I promised you that I wouldn’t let you ruin this, didn’t I?”
He nods slowly, his shoulders relaxing. “You did.”
“Thentrustme. I won’t let you ruin this. Safeword, if you need to. We can try this again and again and again until we figure it out. Until we find our limits. Until we get the dynamic down. But once the trust is gone? That’s it, Maison. Because all of this is built on trust. Trust and communication.” I stand, striding toward him until I’m settled nearly toe to toe. He has to arch back to look up at me. I probably like that too much. “Trust me, Maison. Please?”
He swallows hard enough for me to hear it. “Okay.”
Something loosens in my chest. “Okay.”