Page 62 of Lilacs and Leather

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Page 62 of Lilacs and Leather

“If you don’t want to sleep with me, I’d prefer you just say so rather than stringing me along,” she drones, not looking at me.

It’s my turn to blink, shaking my head a little at her cold, detached tone. The honey is fading from her scent, leaving only the muted florals behind. There’s a kick of panic in my chest, but I push it down so I can focus.

“What could possibly make you think—”

“Oh, I don’t know. We’ve been dating for almost two months, and the only time you’ve done more than kiss me is when I was in heat, and you wouldn’t let me touch you back. So, forgive me for thinking that my feelings are one sided.”

“Lydia, that’s not—”

“Then explain. Why do you keep pushing me away? Because that’s what this feels like. I’m trying to be okay with this, but I need to know if sex is going to be part of our relationship. If it’s not, then whatever, but I at least deserve to know why.”

I stare in open-mouthed shock, her words washing over me in waves. Has she been assuming I’ve been rejecting her this whole time? How could I have gone so wrong?

“I want you, too, Lydia—”

“Could have fooled me,” she grumbles, crossing her arms over her chest and still refusing to look at me.

I growl low in my throat. “If you keep interrupting me, I’m going to have to take steps to otherwise occupy your mouth,” I snap before I can check myself.

That gets her attention, and I watch the blush spread from her nose out over her forehead until she’s bright pink, eyes wide and bright. At least she’s quiet. I sigh, running my hand through my hair roughly as I try to find the words.

“What I like, what I need, in the bedroom isn’t exactly the norm. And I could tell that there was something you weren’t telling me, some trauma in your past that makes you deflect whenever I try to get close. You flinch at loud noises, and whenever someone moves too fast. I needed to know what happened to you so I could behave accordingly. Because, unlike your shit stain of an ex, I don’t want to traumatize you.”

Lydia stares with something like awe in her eyes. I’ve noticed all the little things that she thinks she hides, but I wanted her to come to me. And it worked. She opened up, sharing those invisible scars that match the ones on her skin, and so much of her behavior makes sense now. And knowing what I do now, our dynamic can be that much safer.

“What exactly are you into that makes you worried that I’m going to freak out?” Lydia asks after a long moment.

I smirk, but it’s a humorless expression. “Control. I want to be in complete control when we’re together. Your body will be mine to use as I see fit. Your pleasure will belong to me, and I can give it or take it however I want. And if you behave, you will never be left wanting.”

Lydia sits up a little straighter, face falling intothatexpression again. The one where I can see the wheels turning behind her emerald eyes, but the way she bites her lower lip in hesitation confirms my suspicions. She’s still in her head, fighting with the natural submissive that I know is buried inside of her.

“I… okay, yeah. That’s—” she cuts herself off, clearing her throat and rubbing the back of her neck.

“There’s more to this than what I want, love. Do you want to have this talk now, or do you want to wait until another day?” I ask evenly, trying to control my racing heart.

She goes quiet as she considers, and I see her take several of those carefully measured breaths. It does make me less worried to see her considering rather than just answering on instinct. At a long moment, I see her setting her shoulders and nodding to herself. She looks back at me, her eyes full of determination.

“I’m done trying to pretend I don’t want you,” Lydia says, firm and confident.

I smile, my heart doing little flips in my chest. “Then let’s go somewhere a little more comfortable,” I suggest, nodding in the direction of my room.

Lydia blushes a light pink before standing and turning to wait for me to lead. I unfold from the couch, stepping to her side. I reach up and tuck a loose strand of her hair behind her ear, cupping her face and tilting it up. Lydia leans a little into my touch, and my heart melts at the sight of her bright green stare looking up at me. I lean down and brush a soft kiss against her lips but pull away before she makes me forget myself. It should bother me how easily she does that without even trying, but I only feel a buzzing excitement under my skin.

I stroke her cheek with my thumb once before dropping my hand and taking her hand. She allows me to lead her down the hall and into my room. She pauses just inside the doorway as I turn to shut the door, and I watch her take in the space. The cool neutral color scheme instantly makes me feel more relaxed, and I let myself enjoy the way my feet sink into the thick white carpet.

“I expected more black and leather,” she chuckles.

“We keep that decor in the playroom. This is just my bedroom,” I say with a smirk, moving over to the pair of armchairs that sit off to the side of the room.

Lydia’s head snaps to me, and I have to stifle a laugh at how red her face is. Another day I’d show her all of the fun things Lex and I have in our little playroom next door, but I didn’t want to overwhelm her right now. I settle into one of the chairs, motioning for Lydia to take the other. She curls up like a cat, one leg tucked up under her hips, the other bent to her chest with an arm wrapped around it. The position makes me smile; she rarely sits normally, always twisting her limbs around her like a pretzel, or perching on spots that aren’t strictly meant for sitting. It’s just one of her adorable little quirks that makes my heart sing.

“So,” she starts, letting out a long exhale.

“So,” I parrot, trying not to let my amusement show through.

She glares at me, but it lacks any heat. She starts conversations like this often, and I always love getting a rise out of her when I just repeat her opener back. I rub a hand over my mouth, trying to hide my smirk.

“Best place to start is with safe words. When we play, you’ll have these as lifelines, a way to communicate to me that can’t be misunderstood,” I begin, relaxing back into my chair.




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