Freed (14 page)

We don’t usually get nights alone, so with Pete and Maggie away at his parent’s house, I decide to shake my funk. The situation will not be resolved by my brooding, and I need to live in this moment. Who knows how many more of them are in my future?

“Now, he dances with me,” I joke. His knee slides between mine as he moves against my hips.

His grip on me intensifies while he stares into my eyes. “I wanted to dance with you,” he confesses uneasily. “I don’t know why, but I didn’t want to share that with anyone else. I told myself I was being an idiot,” he continues with a shrug, “but that’s what I felt.”

Running my hands up his chest and over his shoulders, I cup his neck and link my fingers together, the pads of my thumbs rubbing the soft hair there. He pulls me tighter, and we dance quietly for a moment, as he sings the lyrics to “Try a Little Tenderness” in my ear. Even though his body tries to distract my wayward thoughts, I focus on the words and the meaning behind them. This song is all about how to handle your woman, and I revel in the fact that Ransom has always known what I needed—when I needed tenderness; when I needed tough love; when I needed to be held and coddled. He’s pretty amazing like that.

When the song ends, he pulls me over to the couch and down onto his lap. I move in for a kiss, but he only gives me a peck before pulling back.

“You’ve told me a few things about what you like, but I need to know more. The more we get into this, the more worried I am about pushing buttons that will throw you for a loop. I need you to feel safe, and the only way that can happen is if I know for a fact whether or not you have any triggers.”

I think about it for a minute, running through things Greer and I had done or not done. There is decidedly more on the not-done list. Pretty much, we had only gone at it hard and fast. The only two things that I can think of that would be considered out of the norm were the faked “forcing” of him on me, and the semi-public sex. I don’t even really know how to say that out loud. Compared to what Ransom and I have done, and how he feels about others knowing the details of his sex life, my previous acts seem deviant and undesirable.

“Denver?” he whispers. Throwing on a little smile, I meet his eyes with mine. “I’m not going to get upset, but after what you’ve been through, I need you to be as honest with me as possible so that I don’t hurt you. I want all the memories we make to be happy ones.”

Clearing my throat and steeling my spine, I toss my braid over a shoulder and buck up. “Well, I told you that I liked it rough … but I don’t know that encompasses how things really went down between us.” I have to force myself not to fidget. Of course, he notices and runs his thumb over my wrist. “We had this thing where I pretended like I didn’t want it. Um, like I would fight against him, and he would force me, but he really wasn’t. It was a game. I think that worked against me that night, you know. So I don’t want to play like that again.” A shiver that I can’t beat back works its way over me. “That’s not something that should be played around with. I realize now how dangerous that was.”

I’m fascinated by all that I see working in his eyes—the main thing, though, is that I see no judgment, and that makes me feel better already. “Good, so no forced role-play. That doesn’t do anything for me anyway.”

“I don’t think it did anything for Greer either at first. That was all me. As fucked-up as it seems, I think I was trying to work through the near miss with my step-father.”

“That actually makes sense. In your mind, you had control over Greer while pretending you didn’t. The only thing is, you two didn’t work out the details, so when you really didn’t want it, he ignored all that.” I stiffen, because that’s what I’d come up with on my own, and when I did, it put the blame of what happened squarely at my feet. “Nuh, uh, Denver. You’re not going there again with the blame thing. Yes, you had some responsibility by not playing in a safe way before that night, but remember when y’all started that, you were both young. Also, if you remember, you told him things you never had before. You told him you hated him, and you screamed and cried. There’s a line there, even in play, and he crossed it.”

He’s right. Our playing around had never gotten close to that level. Greer should’ve realized I wasn’t playing a game that night, but he didn’t, because we had blurred the lines. This is where things get complicated for me.

“Is there anything else that you’re dead set against?”

“I don’t think so. I mean, I haven’t really done much, so it’s hard to say. I’ve had semi-public sex before, and it always turned me on.”

He raises an intrigued brow. “What’s semi-public?”

“You know, like where others are around, but we were safely tucked away. Closet during prom; open, but deserted, areas on the ranch; the tack room in the barn—places where we could get caught together, but not necessarily in public view.”

“Ah … the rush of possible discovery,” he murmurs. “I get it. And that doesn’t turn you off now?” I shake my head. “And neither does the rough sex?”

A blush steals over my cheeks, and it’s not one bred from embarrassment, but from excitement. “Not at all,” I whisper.

I don’t miss the heat that seems to transfer from me to him. “Duly noted. What about other acts?”

“Other acts?”

“Yeah, like oral?”

“Um, oral?” I feel like a damn parrot, but I’m not quite sure what to say.
Oh, Greer and I have done what most people would consider the most intimate of acts, but no way was I gonna do that with him.
It never even occurred to me.

He gives me an impatient look, like I’m being obtuse. “Did you like it when he went down on you? And vice versa?” His voice drips with sex, and he runs his fingertips over my hip and then tightens them around me. I’m pretty sure he just said it that way to shock me.

“Yeah. No. I understand. But no.”

His chuckle vibrates against me. “Could you be a little clearer, Denver?”

“I don’t know. I mean, I don’t know if I’d like it. I’ve never done it?” My voice rises like I’m asking a question. I groan at my awkward fumbling.

His eyes narrow with skepticism. “Which one?”

“Either one.” I furrow my brow. “Or is it neither one?”

He just stares at me for a moment before his eyes dip to my mouth, and then my lap, and back up again. Blowing out a deep breath, he pierces me again with his gaze. “Are you telling me that, in addition to having had only one sexual partner, you’ve pretty much only had vanilla sex?”

Thank you kinky romance writers and creators of the ebook!
Otherwise, I’d have no freaking clue what he was talking about. “Other than some rough sex, and the other two things I mentioned, my sex life was pretty tame,” I confirm.

Ransom scrubs both hands over his face before releasing a frustrated breath. “You’re on the opposite end of the spectrum from being a slut, Denver. I can’t believe you walked around calling yourself that, and what’s worse, is that you started believing it too.”

Throwing my legs over his, I try to remove myself from his lap before I say something stupid. He has no idea what he’s talking about here, and suddenly, I see red.

His hands come down, a vice on my thighs. “Hey! What’s the matter? Why are you getting upset now?”

I struggle with him for a second before snapping, “Let me go.” His hands release me immediately, and I jump up to pace. This is what no one gets. What no one will probably ever get, but damn if I don’t want him to understand.

“Denver, what’s wrong?” He seems almost amused at my behavior. In the couple of months we’ve been seeing each other, I don’t think I’ve ever been truly angry with him.

“Ransom, the term
slut
doesn’t just apply to someone who’s had a lot of sex with a lot of people. The sex I had was shallow and unemotional and meaningless. We used other people to camouflage our dark, twisted relationship. We snuck around to make it more exciting and off limits. I wouldn’t even let him kiss me. I used him, and he used me. There was nothing loving or beautiful about how I went about it. Ergo, I am a slut,” I finish with a flourish and a hand on my hip. I’m standing over him now, as if to intimidate him, but he just looks up at me and laughs. And doesn’t stop laughing.
Ass
.

Finally, he grabs his cell and taps some buttons. Frowning, I try to move away again, but he grabs my hand and pulls me back in front of him, mumbling about how cute my use of the word
ergo
is. He clears his throat and reads, “
Slut
, an immoral woman; a prostitute.” He quirks an eyebrow at me and flashes me his phone with his dictionary app pulled up. “Black and white. That’s the definition.”

What is it with the men in my life? They’re bound and determined to give me fucking vocabulary lessons every time I turn around. “Black and white, Ransom. Black and fucking white. Have you noticed we tend to live in a disarray of vivid color?” I place my hands on his chest and push him back on the couch, willing him to see it my way. “I behaved immorally where Greer was concerned. I used him to escape my problems, without a care for his feelings. I didn’t have sex with him because I was overwrought with feelings for him, or anything along those lines. He. Was. Convenient. An escape. If you can’t see that, then you can’t see me for who I really am.” His head snaps up with the unspoken threat that lies in my words. If he doesn’t see me for who I am, he can’t be with me, and he knows it.

He shakes his head and makes a disapproving sound. “For someone who is so fucking smart, you’ve got this all wrong.”

“Ransom—”

“No,” he cuts in, trapping my hands on his chest. “Listen up, little fighter. Did you, or did you not, admit to loving Greer?”

“You know I did.”

“Did you, or did you not, tell me that after y’all hooked up, you felt ashamed and sorry?”

“Not enough to make me stop,” I bite out.

“Did you feel sorry?” he seethes.

“Yes, of course. I felt awful, but once we put it into motion, it was a vicious cycle that I couldn’t seem to stop, even though I tried.”

He taps my hands, like case settled, but doesn’t let me go. “Well, that right there proves you have morals and a conscience. You fucked up. Greer fucked up. It doesn’t make you a bad person. It makes you flawed and human.” He threads his fingers through mine and pulls me back down on his lap. His tone gentles. “Now, I personally wouldn’t give a shit if you labeled yourself like that, if it didn’t have power over you, and if others didn’t use it that way too, but that’s not the case. Others have used it as a sword to take you down, and you’ve used it as a shield, but the shield got too heavy and came crashing down on your head. Giving it power like that, lets the connotations define
you,
when they really don’t.”

Isn’t this the same the speech I’d been giving to Greer? I believed that about him, so why can I not believe it about me? “So you’re saying I’m a good person who did bad things, but I can’t let those things define me, since I’ve recognized them and refuse to do them anymore?”

He leans in kisses me on the ear, whispering, “Exactly, baby. Repeat after me.” I nod. “I am not a slut.”

A garbled breath escapes my lungs, and tears pool in my eyes. I shake my head, trying to dislodge the thoughts that bombard me like a meteor shower.

He pulls back and cradles my head in his strong, warm hands. “I know you’re scared. It’s your last defense mechanism, but you’re safe now. You’ve learned how to fight for yourself. You’ve torn down all those walls. Your insecurities aren’t going to rule you anymore. You’re too strong for that.” His eyes fly down to my tightly pressed lips. “Breathe, Denver.” I gasp. “Shit. You were turning blue. Damn, you’re stubborn,” he laughs. “Now. Say. It,” his staccato is gentle, but no less demanding.

“I—” my voice cracks. He runs his thumbs over my cheekbones, nodding his approval. Clearing my voice, I try again, “I am not a slut.” It’s raw and ragged, but it’s out there.

“Again.”

I roll my eyes playfully, a couple of my tears escaping. He wipes them away. Of course, once isn’t good enough for him. I push some strength into my words this time, which forces my back straighter. “I am not a slut,” I assert.

“Good girl,” Ransom muses. “You most certainly are not. You aren’t, and you weren’t.”

“You’re really good at this,” I praise.

His answering kiss is gentle. It sweeps over me, lulling my body into a warm, beautiful haze, yet my mind feels clear for the first time in a long time. It’s a heady combination. Ransom’s tongue darts out to slip across the seam of my lips, and I open to him, riding the rush of his power over my mind, my body, and my soul. Not too long ago, allowing someone any power over any aspect of me would have terrified me, but not with Ransom. His power builds mine, makes me feel stronger and more myself than ever before. I push him back gently and turn on his lap a little.

When he opens his eyes, gone is the confusion and frustration and need to make me see things clearly, but I have questions of my own.

“My turn,” I whisper playfully. “I know what your buttons are. I know what turns you on and turns you into the man who wants to dominate me, but what I don’t know, is how you got so good at this. The other day, with the commands?” He nods, his vision once again focusing in on me. “If you’ve never had a submissive before, how come you’re so good at it? And don’t tell me you’re a natural.” I can see that being his cocky answer.

Ransom relaxes back into the couch. Grinning, he says, “I told you that two people know about my preferences. Well, one of those is my mentor, Lucas.”

I can’t hide my shock. “You have a BDSM mentor?”

He laughs. “Don’t be so shocked. It’s not anything to enter into lightly, so yes, I have a mentor. We’ve never met in person, but he’s been really good to me. Showing me the ropes, so to speak.” A laugh bubbles out of me. “Naughty girl,” he chastises mockingly. “You know what I mean.”

“How does one go about procuring a mentor like that? I mean, did you put an ad up on craigslist or something?”

“Not quite. You know me and my research. When I realized I had different … needs, I hit up the Internet. You wouldn’t believe the information that is out there. Some of it is scary, some of it is bullshit, but there are also legitimate places where you can find what appeals to you. You know, everyone is different. I happened upon a blog that Lucas’s submissive runs, and got involved in some discussions with her. She had Lucas contact me, and he’s been helping me ever since.”