Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 114284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
I wasn’t gonna lie. I’d kept him talking for as long as I could by asking questions and quenching my curiosities. And in the light of day, that was making me feel like shit. Like I’d taken advantage.
I was nothing but a liar in the end, right?
I should’ve told him from the beginning that I used to know his daughter. That the first time Ty and I had met, Marina had introduced me as her boyfriend. But I’d chickened out, and now too much had happened. And I was going home tomorrow.
“I remember ramblin’ about Marina,” Ty said pensively.
Hmm, not too much. More about the Air Force.
“You said you haven’t gotten used to the idea of becoming a grandpa,” I said.
He grimaced. “Yeah, no shit. I’m forty-one.”
I smiled, and we started walking toward the house again. “You reminisced a little about how it was when she was a baby too. The rest was Air Force talk.”
He hummed and watched Terra. “I think I was trying to make a point, but it got lost somewhere. We talked about kink and discipline before we left Marco Island, right? You and Shay were discussing it—then everyone chimed in.”
I nodded, remembering. This week, being around Shay, Macklin, and even Kit, had awakened that need in me. Seeing them interact with their Owners had quickly gone from fascinating and beautiful to something less fun. I envied them. I didn’t believe my submission would ever run as deeply as, say, Macklin’s—the way he served Walker—but in the ballpark next to that, maybe.
“We were saying we thrive under a certain type of pressure,” I said. “When someone we value demands things from us, be it chores around the house or other tasks. Preparing meals, cleaning up, stuff like that.”
Ty nodded with a dip of his chin. “That’s what I was trying to draw parallels between, I think—the needs of a sub and my need for structure when I was seventeen, lost as fuck, and about to become a dad. The service set me straight and created a world for me to live in when I became legal.” He paused. “Of course, that need eventually drained out of me, and if I hadn’t been given free rein for my type of work, I would’ve left the Air Force much earlier. But I understand the mind-set, whether it’s part of your identity or it’s a temporary period in your life.” He side-eyed me and quirked a faint smirk. “What I don’t understand is how you can find that structure with a Dom if you’re not interested in anything long-term.”
I blew out a breath and faced forward. We were almost at the house. “Yeah, I’m gonna have fun figuring that out. I really wish I were more like you in that regard, just wanting kink to spice things up in bed. But the more I see of Macklin and Walker…” Something was missing. I couldn’t deny that. “He’s so at peace, you know? Now, I’m not saying I want a Dom who orders me to kneel everywhere, which—” That was exactly what Walker had done last night when he’d deemed that Macklin was getting out of control. Twenty minutes at his Master’s feet had centered Macklin, and then he’d been ready to pour another drink and have more fun. And it’d made all the difference. “I mean, that’s their thing, I guess. But the principle of having that one person to hold the leash—that’s where it’s at. Someone I can learn to cook for and take care of.” Fuck, shut up.
I clamped my mouth shut and cursed myself. That felt too personal.
“That’s the theory of it anyway,” I added as flippantly as I could. “Maybe I’ll get there in the future.”
“But not now.”
“No.” As much as it pained me. “I’d make a horrible sub now. Too much bullshit. I gotta get my life in order. And figure out how to give up control without flipping my lid.”
“Ah. The reluctant submissive.”
I shot him a grin. “That’s me.”
“You don’t have to do that, darlin’. You’re my guest.”
“I want to.” I smiled quickly before I carried a trayful of bottles inside. We’d had more drinks than I remembered last night. The boat had been full, the patio outside Ty’s house too, plus a bunch of shit in the living room.
In the meantime, Ty and Reese sat on the boardwalk, feet in the water, and nursed their headaches while Terra stayed in the water. I’d kept my swim brief today, because the mess around the house made me anxious.
I’d learned something about Ty this week, when it came to how he lived his life. He liked things clean but could handle a mess like a pro. He was quick to do the dishes, unless the plates weren’t too dirty. He didn’t enjoy having trash lying around, and clothes were never on the floor for very long, but he didn’t mind throwing stuff in a drawer to make something disappear, and the backs of chairs were made for hanging tees and shorts. He did his own composting just outside the garage, by the hedge where he had a narrow strip of grass. He cleaned the sink quickly after brushing his teeth, making sure there were no toothpaste leftovers. He hosed down the boat almost every day. He also ate in bed, including potato chips and sandwiches. He had a rather impressive collection of DVDs and CDs in the living room, and I wasn’t sure a single disk was in its rightful case. Then there was his stash of booze. Two cabinets in the modest kitchen were filled, and I’d counted six bottles of Hendrick’s gin that only had a little bit left in them. Four unopened bottles too. Probably a dozen bottles of vodka, all opened, many the same brand and flavor.