“Auggie.”
My name came from a mile away. I couldn’t breathe. My vision was going hazy, and my heart seemed to swell in my chest.
“Auggie, you’re having a panic attack,” Heath’s voice, steady and concerned, reached me. “Focus on my voice. You’re in a safe place.” I felt his presence beside me, his hand slipping into mine. He continued talking, his tone low and soothing, and gradually the tightness in my chest eased.
“Keep your eyes closed. I want you to think about something that makes you happy. When you’ve found your happy place, squeeze my hand.”
Charles.
He was my happy person. The way he made me laugh, calling me his mistress, and checking my résumé for me. The way he hogged the sheets and cuddled up to me when we had sex.
I squeezed Heath’s hand.
“Good, I want you to focus on that. Nothing else but what makes you happy.”
My body relaxed, and I smiled at the memory of last night, when Charles did my dishes, wearing nothing but the silky jockstrap I’d bought him. He’d been in such a rush when he’d left my house this morning to get home and change for work that he hadn’t shaved.
I’d teased him about his stubbled jaw as I’d walked him out to his car, in my boxers. He’d glared at the mailman peeking over the fence at me, then dove into his car, afraid to be seen.
I finally came around. Heath sat close to me, his hand in mine in a tight grip. His troubled eyes told me whatever news he had for me wasn’t good. I’d never seen him look this conflicted before.
“I owe you an apology,” he said slowly. “You wondered why I paired Ridge with you that night. It was because I didn’t trust myself to give him what he wanted. He wanted me to punish him for something he did to me years ago, but I wasn’t ready to forgive him just yet. I trusted you as a Dom, but I should’ve realized I couldn’t trust him to play it safe. He’s been banned from playing with anyone else from the club.”
Good for him. But where did that leave me? I still feared that any sub I’d do a scene with wouldn’t know their limit.
“And what do I do now?” I asked Heath, not quite holding the resentment out of my tone.
“You can always practice at the club just the same,” Heath said. “I’ll have a Dom with you at all times so they can take care of the subs’ needs while you get the proper aftercare as well.”
It seemed like so much trouble to go through, though. Doms would be looking to engage in their own scenes or just to watch. Plus, I didn’t feel that comfortable with the idea of having other Doms administer aftercare if they weren’t Heath or Declan.
“Is there another option?”
“If you find a strong sub who isn’t prone to drops or one who bounces backs rather quickly, they can handle your aftercare.”
I couldn’t wrap my head around that one. Yes, taking care of each other was important, but the emphasis was always placed on a Dom tending to his sub after a scene. That was how it had always been since I’d been a part of this community.
A Dom took care of his sub. Never the other way around. Subs also loved the aftercare they received from Doms. Where was I going to find a sub who didn’t mind forgoing their needs to tend to mine?
“So you’re saying I’m screwed,” I said to Heath.
“No, I don’t believe that one bit.” I wasn’t aware he was still holding my hand until he squeezed hard. “You’re an excellent Dom, and your concern about a future sub right now shows that. It would be a tremendous loss to the community if you quit now, and I don’t know if you’d truly be happy.”
“I’m not sure if I can do this, Heath.”
“Give it some thought. I’ll go through a list of options. See if there’s any sub I know who has a history of great comeback from a scene. We can negotiate one with you, and you see how you like it.”
Heath’s words sounded good. I’d be able to get back to doing scenes, but the rest of it didn’t sit right with me. I wasn’t used to that kind of power exchange. Perhaps if I knew the sub personally and we had an intimate relationship, but to give a complete stranger that much power over my mental health? I shuddered.
“I don’t know if I can allow that.”
“I’ll look around. Just keep an open mind, and we can discuss it again.”
“During the next session?” I glanced at the clock on his wall, surprised my hour had been up ten minutes ago.
Heath released my hand and got to his feet but didn’t answer me. Instead, he walked over to his desk in the corner of the room.
He rifled through some papers, flipped over a book, then walked back to the couch.
“I’m going to refer you to a colleague of mine for further consultation.”
“What?” I glanced at the card in his hand and ignored it. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen.”
“I don’t think I can assess you objectively.” He took my hand and placed the card in it. “I’m partly responsible for what you’re going through right now. As a psychologist, I have to recognize it’s not just professional anymore. This is becoming personal. I care about you and your mental health. My colleague is well respected, and I wouldn’t be referring you to him if I didn’t believe in his ability.”
I stared down at the card and frowned. Dr. Anthony Jacobs.
“It’d be like starting all over again. I’m not sure I can do that.”
“I’ll send him your file, even talk with him from one professional to another.”
“Fine. If you think it’s best.”
“Yes, because I intend to keep track of you as a friend and a Dom in our community. My position as your therapist will compromise that and vice versa.”
Chapter Six
Charles
“Gah!”
I spat the food from my mouth into a napkin and swiped at my tongue to get rid of the horrible taste. What the hell had I been thinking trying to prepare my own meal? I had a personal chef on demand for a reason, and when that failed, one of my best friends owned a restaurant.
This was all August’s fault. He had to put ideas into my head after seeing how flawless he was in the kitchen. Now I was all set to poison myself, just to be able to report to him that I’d cooked something edible.
So much for that plan.
“What’s that horrible smell?”
Poppy walked into the kitchen and immediately gagged. She spun on her heels and clattered back the way she’d come. I hoped she made it to the bathroom in time. The cleaners were already gone for the day, and I wasn’t good with messes.
I got up from the island and scraped the mess on my plate down the food disposal unit. If I knew where the cleaning agents were kept, I would’ve sprayed the air to get the lingering scent out.
August’s assessment had been right. I’d make a terrible housewife.
“Poppy, you okay?” I called, following the retching sound to the half bathroom downstairs. “Poppy?”
I knocked on the door and turned the knob.
“Don’t you dare come in, Char—” Another retching sound cut off my name.