Page 30

I gave it a few seconds before determining Jaime didn’t have more to say—at least not until he got a response—before I scrubbed a hand down my face.

“Are you going tolistenif I answer with something that’s not blanket agreement?”

Jaime frowned right away. It was expected. Slowly, he nodded. It was subtle—hesitant, even—but it was more than I’d expected. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth and all that.

“Okay.” I got myself comfortable leaning against the bench, my hands clasped in front of me. “So. I agree that you don’t need to be looking for a partner or even a long-term arrangement with someone. But… some words, some terms, they’re relational. They require the existence, and the interaction, with another. If you say you’re a sub, you’re a sub in relation to a Domm. You are a sub because, to one degree or another, you submit, and you submit to someone.”

“That’s…” Jaime mulled it over for a few seconds. “Simplistic.”

I shrugged. “Move it outside of kink, then. You can say you’re a bottom without having sex at all, but you are a bottom in relation to the fact that other people are tops. The two terms wouldn’t exist without the other.”

Jaime pursed his lips. It was so clear that he didn’t like what I was saying. For some reason, the fact sent a thrill down my nervous system. I’d never denied that I liked pushing my subs.

He might not be my sub, but it was apparently not a deal-breaker.

“What are you getting at?”

A sigh escaped me. That one was harder to answer. It was only fair, though. He was keeping his end of the bargain and not jumping down my throat. I shook the idea off. Here I was, the old school Dom feeling relief that a brat was behaving for once.

I needed to snap out of this funk, pronto.

“I’m trying to understand your aversion to Domms while you label yourself a sub.”

I didn’t think there would be any traumatic story behind it, but I was beginning to accept one never knew with Jaime. Still, I’d been around people who had been hurt in the context of kink. Kara would be one, off the top of my head. Jaime didn’t give off that vibe. He might make my head spin on a lot of different topics, but power dynamics were the one thing I understood without the need for anyone’s input.

Old school didn’t mean I wasn’t up-to-date on negotiations, RACK, and PRICK guidelines. It mostly meant I liked a degree of protocol and a way to dish out discipline.

“Aversion is a strong word.” Jaime started scratching his inner wrist as he spoke. If we were closer, I’d yank his hand away, but I couldn’t without going back to that place where I doubted my every move and word. “It’s what I was trying to say when I said I’m not the perfect sub. I don’t want to bottom all the time, obey, or even see you as a superior. How many Domms do you think are okay with that? And let’s not even get into how much my pool narrows when we add dysphoria into the mix.”

“What does dysphoria have to do with it?”

Questions about everything he’d said were piling up, but it was easy to see that I needed to be the one who streamlined the conversation. It was clear that last part was at the crux of the matter.

It was in the way he shrank as he spoke the word, as if saying it too loud would make a monster appear from under the bed. He looked too vulnerable, too out of character, as he tried to make himself small.

My hands itched with the need to offer comfort. My body remained paralyzed.

It was a strange combination, one that made my head throb and my jaw clench.

“Fuck my life.” Jaime groaned. He looked like he wanted to slump down on the bed but thought better of it at the last minute. On my part, I didn’t move a single muscle. Doing so felt dangerous. “Because I am not going to be someone’s learning curve, and I am not going to put myself in a position where I have to explain to you how to make me feel better when I feel like carving my skin inside out?”

His breathing grew heavier as he spoke.

I swallowed before I gritted my teeth. I didn’t recognize the anger behind the gesture. I wasn’t angry at Jaime—or at what he’d said, even though he could work on the delivery. But that didn’t clear the confusion now embedded with that first sign of anger.

“Does that happen often?” was not the most appropriate follow-up question.

It was the first thing that came out, and I wasn’t about to take it back.

How much was Jaime hiding behind all the sitting in uncomfortable positions and giving lip to everyone in a five-mile radius?

He sighed. “Yes and no.”

I frowned. That wasn’t an answer, and it did nothing to alleviate the turmoil of emotions I hadn’t asked for. The more I dwelled on it, the more uncomfortable it got, almost resembling the kind of itch I imagined Jaime had been trying to scratch earlier.

I was getting too old to be dealing with these…feelings.

A shudder ran through my body before I could contain it. “Do you feel that way now?”