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into it so nothing matters. Nothing but knowing you are safe beneath my hand no matter what I do. When there’s nothing. No past, no barricades. It’s just you, pliant. It’s just you submissive to me whether it’s pain, control or the mind-fuck. That’s my moment. When you surrender all to me. Take your fingers out of your cunt.”
    She was gasping so hard for air, he felt her exhales on his mouth. Her cheeks were flushed, her lashes damp from tears. When her fingers slid free, he pressed his in, making her cry out. She was wet and tight, the inner muscles still rippling and convulsing from her orgasm. He held still, watching her body start to come down. He eased his fingers out of her and brushed his thumb over the little heart. “Now tell me what scares you the most at the club.”
    He half expected her to say him because she was always running.
    “Humiliation,” she whispered and a tear slid free. “I can’t. I just can’t.”
    Yeah, that made a lot of sense. “Is that what happened at the club?”
    She nodded and a couple more tears made a break for it. “I couldn’t come so he took me into the bar, made me sit there, as he told others that I was a bad sub and…” She swallowed and shook her head.  
    Fucker.
    Probably a good thing he had been far away.
    Doyle picked her up and sat down in his chair, settling her on his lap as he eased the shirt over her. She wrapped an arm around his neck, her face pressed against him as she lost that happy place. “A good dom considers his sub first, last and always. If the scene isn’t going right, he has to stop it. If a scene doesn’t feel right, Katey, you have the power to stop it if he doesn’t. If some douche canoe takes his inadequacies out on you, you give me his name and I will remind him that shit will not be tolerated. You say red and you walk away. We know you can because you did it last night.”
    A watery giggle brushed over his skin and she tightened her arm.
    “If you ever let a fucking douche top you again, things will not end with my fingers in your cunt. You got me, Katey Jay?”
    “Yes, Sir.”
    Fuck. He had known she was a complication the minute he had seen her standing in his club, white band on her wrist.  
    “But what if you’re the douche top?”
    “Fucking brat.” Her giggles did something to him. Something dangerous.  
    Shit.
    ****
    Kate – 2002
    Kate tugged on the front of her shirt. It was so new she could almost feel the price tag at the back. Her jeans were new too, as were the strawberry red sneakers. This morning she had brushed and brushed her hair until it was sleek like the faces in the magazines. Despite all the new clothes bought for this moment, she wanted to crawl into someplace dark to hide.
    She was going to meet him.
    Just the thought left her a little nauseous.  
    A teacher at school had called in social services shortly after the fire. He had noticed when Kate showed up wearing the same clothes for the third day. That and she had fainted because it had been a long time since something had been in her stomach beside the water from the fountain. She was put with a foster family because she hadn’t given names of any family members. She didn’t know if Mom had family. Mom never mentioned anyone. The only name she ever heard speak was his name when Mom was drunk or high.
    Kate might not have given his name if she hadn’t gotten caught stealing her foster mother’s magazine with Jace Jennings on the front. Her social worker was called in when it was deduced that all those missing magazines had been taken by her.
    She wasn’t a thief.
    So Kate had finally blurted out the secret she held close to her heart because she didn’t want to go to jail, like the foster mother said she would. She had a name to give them.
    Apparently he was a very big deal because the social worker, Mrs. Lecia, called some lawyers and next thing Kate knew she was sitting in a fancy doctor’s office with them taking her blood and swabbing