“It’s…part of it.” I glanced down at them. “That, and I just like them.”
“I can see why. You look hot in them.”
He grinned, and my muscles relaxed a little. His sense of humor was coming back, and he was smiling, so we were out of the woods as far as freaking out or having a panic attack.
“Feeling better now?” I asked.
“Yeah. I… Thank you. Maybe I did need to stop after all.” His cheeks colored.
“It’s okay. This stuff happens some—”
“I’d like to try again.”
“We will. But tonight, we should—”
“No. Tonight.” He met my gaze, his eyes pleading. “I need this, Jon. Especially tonight.”
I hesitated, but then cupped his cheek. “Listen, I don’t want to push you too hard, but I don’t want tonight to end on a sour note either. So why don’t we go back to my place? Where it’s just us, and it’s quiet.”
He sighed, shoulders still slumped, and nodded again. “Okay.”
“Trust me.”
“I do.”
I kissed him once more and then helped him to his feet. He was steady, but I wrapped my arm around his waist anyway. “Your extra shirt is in the backpack. Get dressed, and I’ll pack everything else up. Then we’ll head home.”
“Okay.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
He was quiet on the way home, and I’d expected as much. A sub from my past had once explained that even when there was no way anyone could’ve made it through the scene, there’s a sense of failure that comes from crying uncle. As if they’ve raised the white flag and let their Dom down.
I didn’t know if it was better or worse that I’d called time before he could. If he’d have felt better pushing himself until he absolutely couldn’t take anymore, or if it was a relief that I’d stopped the scene before we’d reached that point. Maybe he could have recovered and collected himself. Maybe the panic had just been a fleeting thing, one that would pass. Maybe I’d overreacted.
Still, I didn’t regret the choice I’d made. I loved pushing subs to their limit, but not if it meant sending them into a full-on panic attack. I’d made that mistake with a sub before.
“No, I can handle it.”
“You can use your safe word.”
“I’m…I’m fine. Please. Keep…”
I shuddered at the memory. As her Dom, it had been my responsibility to take control and determine that, no, she wasn’t fine, and, no, we weren’t going to continue. One freak-out and several hours of aftercare later, we’d both calmed down, and she’d never held it against me. But that was the night I’d decided, once and for all, that I’d take a disappointed sub over a traumatized one any day.
As I pulled onto the freeway off-ramp, I touched Rick’s leg. “You all right?”
“Yeah.” He put his hand over mine. “Wasn’t quite how I pictured tonight, though.”
“It’s okay. It happens.”
“I know, but…” He sighed, gazing out the window. “We’d barely done a thing. I mean, I was okay being tied, and then…I suddenly wasn’t. What the fuck?”
“It’s fight or flight. Something must’ve triggered that, and when that happens, but you can’t fight or fly, things can go downhill pretty fast.”
Rick was quiet for a moment. Eventually, he nodded. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense. I don’t even know what triggered it.”
“Seemed like the noise from the other areas startled you.”
“That…” He shook his head. “I guess. It’s kind of foggy now.”
“That happens too.” I squeezed his thigh gently. “We’ll take it easy for the rest of the night. Doesn’t mean we can’t play, but I do want to back off a little.”
“What does that mean? I mean, back off…how much?”
Yeah, Jon. How much?
My heart thumped in my chest. “Let’s start with getting back to the house.” I patted his leg. “We can regroup a bit, see how we’re both feeling, and go from there.”
“Okay.”
Neither of us spoke for the rest of the drive. The whole way, I analyzed and reanalyzed everything that had happened tonight, weighing the risk of another freak-out against the possibility of my sub feeling let down. Or worse, my sub feeling like he’d failed me. That I’d withheld the dominance he needed out of disappointment. Rationally, Rick would understand what I did and why. But things like that could still burrow under the skin and stay there.
He seemed to be in a good state now. Annoyed with himself. Frustrated that the scene hadn’t gone as planned. And I knew what it was like to need an outlet. If submission was how he blew off steam—and God knew the CEO of a rapidly growing property development company was under a tremendous amount of pressure—then I wanted to give it to him. Question, was how did I balance that with not overdoing it and adding to what had happened earlier?
I pulled into the garage, and we walked inside. When I flicked on the hall light, I turned toward him, fully intending to suggest we pour ourselves some coffee and talk things through.
But I stopped. I stopped, and I stared at him. Because now that I could see him, the hunger in his eyes was palpable.