Broken Submission

Giving Way

Another squeak left her mouth. "No sir, of course not sir," she managed.

A small laugh rumbled out of his chest. "It's fine, you're allowed to laugh at me."

A warmth blossomed in his chest at the fact that, despite her denial, she felt comfortable enough that she didn't pull back at the question. Her first thought wasn't immediately that he was angry with her. He raised her chin with a finger. Her eyes met his, deep brown striated with threads of gold. He smiled when she held his gaze.

"I don't know what's holding you back,"  he murmured. "And I wish that you would talk to me. But," he leaned down almost until their foreheads touched, "I want you to give this, give me, a chance. You're having trouble finding work; I need someone to work for me. Please, don't throw this aside."

He paused. He could see her pulling back, pulling away.

"It can be a temporary thing," he said quickly. "Just to see if there's any chance that you might like to stay. At the very least, you can earn some tips. And I know that Jerrol's been missing you."

The last sentence left a little bit of a bad taste in his mouth. But he didn't regret it as he saw her relenting, a crack appearing in her determination. She sighed, a touch of minty breath caressing his lips.

Amelia didn't know how he managed it. But he'd made all her reservations crumble. The moment he'd pinned her with those green eyes she was done for. The color was so dark in shadow that it was only a faint shimmer, like the sheen on a feather.

"Temporary?" she repeated.

He nodded. "After a while, you can decide whether or not it's the right fit for you."

She closed her eyes, breathing in a strengthening breath. Unfortunately, she inhaled a lungful of him. The scent of salt and leather and a touch of that quintessential man soap that must have been left over from yesterday's shower. She pulled back abruptly, cheeks flooding with color.

"I—just—" she pointed to the junk drawer, eyes looking everywhere but at him. He let go, and she hurried over to it, pulling out the applications that he'd given her the week before. She hadn't been able to bring herself to throw them away, instead hiding them in the pit of things never addressed, the junk drawer.

There was a smear of pink at the top corner of the page that she scrubbed at, but it refused to budge. Her nerves rose, hands starting to shake despite her best attempts to quell the motion. Warm hands engulfed hers, steadying them.

"Deep breaths," his warm voice said, not an ounce of judgement present. "Listen to mine. Just breathe with me."

She focused on the sound of his breathing, eyes shut tight. Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment, but she managed to ignore it. Her breaths gradually fell into sync with his, and her body began to relax. It was hypnotic, her mind falling into a cloudy daze as her entire world became the warmth of his hands, the sound of his breath.

Derek watched her. Her head was bowed, but the tremors had stopped. Her posture was relaxed, even slightly slumped like she wasn't mentally present. He didn't know what had triggered the episode. It might have been nothing more than the nerves of the decision and of his presence.

But now, she had completely submitted, even though they weren't in a scene. He had allowed a small amount of dominance into his voice to calm her, and she had reacted beautifully. He thought that she might even be in some form of sub space now, not the euphoric, orgasmic type, but a fog of trust and relaxation.

Something tugged at his heart, an intense need to protect, to care for. She wasn't his, but she felt like she was. He had no idea what this woman had gone through, but every ounce of his being was telling him to make sure that she never worried again, never shook, never starved. He concentrated on his breathing, making sure that his thoughts didn't break the rhythm they shared.

Moving slowly, gently, he slipped an arm around her back and another under her knees. It was extremely possible that the movement would bring her out of her daze, but with the way she sagged over the countertop, he worried that she'd fall if he didn't move her. He swept her up and cradled her to his chest. She murmured something unintelligible, then buried her nose into his chest, breathing him in.

A grin crossed his face as he looked down at her. He made his way to the couch and eased them down onto the cushions. If he were to guess, she was more napping now than drifting. He rested his head back against the wall. That was alright. When she woke, they'd fill out the paperwork and then she'd be under his protection, as an employee, as a club member, as his.