“How many women are you mentoring?”

His hand comes to rest on my shoulder. “You’re the only one I’m concerned with.”

His non-answer sets me at ease more than it should. “So, what does aftercare usually involve?”

He hands me my glass of water, encouraging me to drink more. “It can be discussion over what just happened, cuddling, kissing, or even vanilla intercourse if the scene didn’t involve sex.” He waits while I consider everything I’ve learned tonight, and tucks the quilt tighter around me. “Any other questions?”

I meet his eyes and smile. “Now that I know your name…can I call you Hale?”

He chuckles and nods his head. “You may.”

Chapter Ten

Hale

I’m waiting for Reece to arrive at the bistro we agreed on for lunch, but all my thoughts are on Brielle and the night we shared.

Kirby must be a fucking idiot. If he hasn’t noticed her by now, that’s his problem. I know I’ll walk away at the end of this, like I always do, but I’ll enjoy every single one of my sessions with Brielle in the meantime.

I pull out my phone, deciding to text her. We exchanged numbers before I left last night.

Hale: How are you feeling today?

Brielle: Good.

Hale: Not sore are you?

Brielle: A little.

Hale: I’m having lunch with an old friend, but I wanted to check on you. I apologize our lesson got cut short. I promise you that’s not a regular occurrence.

Brielle: It’s okay. Learning your name was worth it. ;)

I chuckle to myself, liking her sassy side.

Hale: One more thing, pet. I’m not free until Friday this week. You are not allowed to masturbate. I’m the only one touching that sweet pussy. Is that clear?

Brielle: Yes, sir.

Her use of the word sir is unexpected and quite welcome. Initially, she questioned herself, me, and this whole process. But it turns out that with only the slightest coaching, she is submitting beautifully.

“How’s your newest project?” Reece asks as he strolls toward me.

“She’s a natural,” I remark, lifting my gaze from my phone. I won’t be one of those douche bags glued to his phone, no matter how entertaining I find my newest pet project.

Pulling out a chair, Reece sits down across from me. “A natural submissive, huh?” He makes a deep, appreciative noise in his throat.

Damn straight. My little peach is a pleaser. It’s up to me to show her how to funnel her energy. She doesn’t need to throw herself at every man who gives her a passing glance; she only needs to submit to her Dom when he demands it. It makes my cock ache just thinking about it.

I’ve found myself thinking of her all day long. Usually that’s the case when I’m working with a client, but it’s most often that I’m analyzing my own performance, thinking of ways to improve my teaching. But aside from my fuckup with leaving my phone on, I haven’t thought of my lesson once. I’ve thought of Brielle’s sweet ass in the air, her pink pussy slick and wet from my words alone, and the breathless whimper she makes when she comes.

“What are you smiling at, brother?” Reece asks, giving me a grin.

“Just the woman I’m coaching. She’s…fun.” I smile back.

“Fun.” He chuckles, his eyes on mine. “You gonna keep this one?”

Given my past, he knows how raw his words make me feel. “No,” I choke out. “I’m training her for another man.”

He nods. “I see.” He picks up the menu and glances at it, but I can see his wheels turning. “You’re not going to have a hard time giving her up, are you?”

“God, no.” I shudder. After what happened the last time, that’s not a possibility for me. Reece knows that as well as I do.

We place our order with the young waitress that Reece can barely keep his eyes off of, and make small talk about work.

“How’s Chrissy?” I ask in between bites of my sirloin sandwich. “She called me last night, distraught. Needed to be talked down off the ledge. Sounds like she worked with someone new who didn’t know what the fuck he was doing.”

Reece would call me a pussy, but aftercare has always been one of my favorite parts. Talking about what we just experienced together, laying it all out there in the open. Examining it and letting all of the feelings of lust, pain, and desire refuse to hide in the shadows. Submission is a beautiful thing, and I’m always glad to explore it in words after the act itself. To make sure my partner felt as good about it as I did. Plus, I’m serious about this mentor thing. I damn well want to know if something I did caused real pain, physical or emotional, and I want to learn, to grow. A Dominant is only as strong as the communication he receives from his partner.

He adjusts his water glass, looking uncomfortable. “Yeah, we had some fucking jackass fly in from New York City for the weekend. Called himself Dominic.” He scoffs. “Turns out he was nothing more than an amateur. But you know Chrissy. She was eager for release, putting herself front and center, ready to be used however he wanted.”

Fucking Chrissy. I inhale deeply, frustration creeping its way into my posture. I flex my hands, my knuckles popping with the effort.

Reece holds up a palm. “I know, brother. I’m pissed off about it too. Trust me, I won’t make that mistake again. That fucker and the guy who vouched for him are both banned for life.”

“Good.” The one-word, grunted response is all I’m capable of.