Only for the Night (If Only Book 2) (21 page)

Despite her words, the stress of their argument and the exhaustion of their sex-interrupted night had Sage falling asleep almost as soon as Hank managed to topple her into the bed. He padded into the bathroom, wet a washcloth with warm water, and returned to clean Sage up as carefully as he could without waking her. After a quick swipe over himself, he crawled into bed and tugged Sage back against him. He’d never spooned a woman all night, preferring to sleep on his back, but when he woke late the next morning, he was still curled around her. Sage stirred when he left the bed, but drifted back to sleep without much more than a murmur. Deep satisfaction settled in his chest at seeing her there, curled in the bed they’d shared, knowing she was safe and sound.

He shut the bedroom door quietly behind him before going to the kitchen. V. sat at the table, chowing down on eggs and toast. Knight sat on his haunches right next to his friend, eyeing the full plate. Hank went immediately to the pantry to grab Knight’s food.

“Did you make me any?” he threw back at V. on the way.

V. snorted. “Make your own.”

When Knight’s bowl was full and the loyal shepherd was eating—right after giving Hank a good-morning tongue bath—Hank wandered over to the counter, where he spotted a piece of the Italian cream cake Sage had made the night before Alice’s party. Popping the lid off the container, he smirked across the room at his friend. “That’s okay; I’ve got something better.”

V. eyed the cake with more than a little greed. “If you eat that big a piece, it’ll be hell to work off.”

“Not with Sage around,” Hank said. The first big bite went into his mouth, the fluffy cake and silky-smooth icing drawing a moan from him.

“Bastard,” V. said.

Hank grinned and took another bite.

They’d finished breakfast before V. got down to business. “Been thinking,” he said as he washed up his dishes. Neither one of them would leave more work for Sage if they could help it, especially not now. Just the fact that she was still asleep said the past couple of days had taken a major toll on her.

“’Bout what?”

“About bringing Jane down here.”

That surprised Hank. Not that he didn’t want to meet Jane, he just… “Sure.”

V. chuckled as if he knew Hank had expected the topic of discussion to be far different. “We have more work to do on your music, and we need to discuss a tour. If that’s what you want, of course.”

Hank searched V.’s face. What he saw there affirmed what V. had already told him—the songs were strong enough for release, strong enough to carry him solo while they waited for the future to figure itself out. The tension in his gut eased. “It’s what I want,” he admitted finally.

V. nodded, his only acknowledgment, though the knowing look in his eyes said he was patting himself on the back for convincing Hank. Self-righteous bastard.

“That’s not why I want to bring Jane, though.”

With the dishes clean, Hank wandered over to his usual spot on the window seat. “Why then?”

“Because I think you need to see what you’re really getting into.”

Hank squirmed. How did he admit he didn’t think he could watch?

If you can’t watch, you sure as hell can’t do it yourself, stupid.

True. He’d never been one for macho posturing either. He gripped his thighs hard. “V., I don’t… I’m not sure how to do this, or if I even can.”

V. leaned a shoulder against the fridge a few feet away. “You won’t know, not till you try.”

“And if I fail?” That more than anything was his biggest fear, even beyond pushing his own boundaries. Just letting himself forget about his own strength last night had been a major step. He’d let go, and it had felt good for both of them. Pleasing Sage had satisfied something far beyond his own hunger; he didn’t want to go back to not being what she needed.

“Do you care about Sage?” V. asked. The words were soft, the tone deadly serious. Hank met his friend’s stern gaze.

“You know I do.”

“How much?”

“I—” How did he answer that? “More than I ever expected.”

“Enough to put her before your own fears? Enough to put her first, give her what she needs?”

There was only one answer he could give. “Yes.”

“Then you can do this.”

V.’s absolute certainty steadied him. “Okay. So…how?” He felt ridiculous asking V. for what was basically a lecture on “how to do sex,” but he wouldn’t leave anything to chance, not where Sage was concerned.

“Good question.” V. crossed his arms over his chest. “Right now I’d suggest you explore on your own. Learn by doing. Sage knows what she needs, she’s experienced”—he paused at Hank’s grimace but didn’t comment—“and asking her what she wants is better than any tutorial I could give you. Unless you want to talk contracts?”

Hank rubbed a hand over his suddenly achy forehead. “A contract?”

“No, I didn’t think so.” V. waved the idea off. “We’ll save that for later. Anyway… You’re naturally dominant, Hank; you know, even if you won’t admit it, how to control her in bed; the trick is letting yourself go. Most Doms have the opposite problem: they have to learn to take complete control. You have too much. You’re so locked down that you can’t be as dominant as you need to be.”

Isn’t that what Sage had proved last night? “How do you know that?”

V. smiled. “A good guess. You never let yourself get the least bit rough. When you touch women, you’re conscious of every slight pressure, every little possibility that you could get too rough and leave a bruise or cause the slightest bit of pain. Sage likes pain—not punches and kicks, not what you might see as ‘real’ pain, but she likes rough.”

The fact that his friend had intimate knowledge of Sage’s preferences tightened his chest.

V. shook his head at whatever he saw on Hank’s face. “I know you don’t like it. I’m sorry. But you need to know this. You need to know that she can take whatever you hand out.

“Let me ask you this,” V. said. “When you’re with Sage, when things are hot and heavy, how conscious are you of the way she reacts? Are you totally lost in your own response, or do you notice the least little change in expression, how her breath catches, if her hands ball up in pain or her pussy clenches in pleasure?”

Hank thought back to last night, how even though they’d been on the floor, Sage hadn’t been uncomfortable until afterward. He’d known it because he’d watched her, and if she hadn’t liked their position, he would’ve changed it.

“I notice everything,” he admitted.

“Then you’re a good dominant. Those responses tell you everything you need to know, including when you aren’t going far enough. Asking questions and truly listening to Sage’s responses, without bias, will take you the rest of the way.”

Hank let out a breath. “Okay.”

V. straightened. “Two things.”

Hank waited.

“Before you go any further—with anything—Sage needs a safe word.”

“Why?” He knew what a safe word was, but subs used it for pain, right? He had no intention of exploring anything involving pain right away.

“Because you need a way to determine if you’ve got a green light or not.”

“So the safe word is more for me than her?”

V. nodded. “You know, if she’s not using her safe word, that you aren’t doing anything she objects to. Even then, though, you can question her. Many couples use colors to determine how comfortable a sub is: green for ‘good to go,’ yellow for ‘slow down,’ red for ‘stop immediately.’”

Hank considered that. “So I can ask what color she is, and if she says yellow, I know I’m getting close to pushing her too far?”

“Or that she needs time to take a breath, needs reassurance. Those are things you will learn with time, but the colors can help you determine whether or not you need to be asking more questions. Hank, what Sage went through with her ex… You have to understand that in many cases a sub is taught to obey, to not question their Dom inside a scene.”

“That’s stupid,” Hank muttered.

“It can be in the wrong circumstances,” V. agreed. “Of course, some subs don’t want to speak up—that’s part of the beauty of submission for them, the complete letting go and allowing a Dom to take them over totally. Sage was…” V. grimaced. “Her ex put her in a situation where she had no choice but to speak up, to question him just to get his attention. She can explain in more detail when she’s ready, but what I can tell you is this: she thinks of herself as a bad sub. And the pressure she will put on herself to be perfect for you will lead to one thing: she won’t tell you what she needs unless you question her.”

“Like asking what color she’s at?”

“Exactly. And asking her what’s okay, what feels good, if she needs more. Get her talking if you can. Usually D/s couples have some form of contract in place so they go into a scene with boundaries already established. I don’t think you or Sage are ready for a contract, though. A safe word is a surefire way to know you won’t cross a boundary she doesn’t want crossed—not that I think you will; your problem will be not pushing her far enough. But because you don’t have a contract, a safe word and questioning her during your explorations are an absolute necessity.”

Hank nodded, overwhelmed but also grateful V. was here. Hank had always tried not to think about V.’s role as a Dom, but he trusted his friend to tell him the truth, to lead him in something he knew only bad things about.

“ Any questions?” V. asked.

“Just one. Does this”—he waved a hand, not sure how to put this—“this…philosophy…govern every interaction? How often do we do this?”

V.’s brow creased. “Has it governed every
interaction
between you two so far?” When Hank shook his head, V. explained. “It happens as often as we want it to happen. You might need more formal ‘lessons’ through this initial period if you want to explore some more complicated things, but you’ll get a feel for when you need it, when she needs it.”

“I don’t want to risk not being there for Sage, either out of ignorance or stubbornness.”

“That’s her job,” V. reassured him. “The two of you have to talk. She has to tell you what she wants.”

Hank rubbed the stubble across his chin. “Okay.”

V. gave him what Hank could only call an indulgent smile. “Look at you, talking about all this stuff. You’re not even green. I’d say that’s progress.”

Hank caught his friend’s eye, wanting V. to see how deadly serious he was. “For Sage, I’ll do anything.” He just hoped he could keep it up when they got to the more advanced stuff—if they ever did.

V.’s smile got bigger, even more approving. “Good. Now, aftercare.”

“What’s aftercare?” Like cuddling? That might be the easiest part of this whole deal. He already couldn’t get enough of cuddling Sage’s sweetly curved body.

“Glad you asked.” V. reached into his back pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. He handed it over. “Here’s how you find out.”

Hank read down the page. If he had to guess, he’d say these were book titles. “What is this?”

“Your homework.”

“What?”

“A reading list,” V. said as he turned toward the hall, throwing over his shoulder. “And when Jane and I come back, we’ll talk about flogging.”

“What the hell?” Hank yelled after his friend, belatedly realizing he risked waking Sage up. A chuckle floated back to him through his open bedroom door.

“Hey, if watching it doesn’t reassure you, I can always let you experience it,” V. called.

“No way in hell!” Hank stopped at the bedroom door to watch V. pack.

“You’d be surprised. A lot of Doms won’t do anything to a sub they haven’t actually experienced themselves.”

“Like?”

“Like anal sex, wax, any kind of whipping.”

The bile at the back of Hank’s throat returned with a vengeance. “No anal.”

“For which one of you?”

Hank shot him a murderous glare. V.’s cleared his throat, his choked-off laugh rubbing salt in the wound.

“Flogging doesn’t really hurt, you know. More like a deep tissue massage. It sounds scary when the leather hits skin, but there’s very little pain. I’ll be honest; I’ve seen Sage take more than a flogger, but I’m not certain she really wants it. Other things that push her limits, maybe, and that cause mild pain—like wax—but a switch or cane?” He shook his head.

Hank hesitated, not wanting to get his hopes up. He scrubbed a hand down his face. “I… Damn it.”

V. stopped packing to walk over and grip his shoulder, but Hank didn’t look at his friend. The reading list he still held crinkled as he clutched it a little too tight.

“Remember, bro, can’t and won’t are two very different things,” V. said into the heavy silence. “Sage has limits, and so will you. There are things you won’t do, and things you can’t. Same for her. All of that can be determined later. What you need to know now is where to start. As trust grows, things can and do change. You’re just at the beginning right now.”

Hank thought back to last night, to the look on Sage’s face as he he’d lost himself inside her, the way he’d felt as he’d held her sleeping body in his arms, and resolve brought his head up. He wasn’t a coward, never had been. Sage deserved everything she wanted and more—and he’d be damned if anyone but him was going to give it to her. When fulfilled exhaustion overtook her, it would be his arms around her, his heart racing against her body.