He gave a long-suffering sigh as he stomped out of the room. “I wish clothes didn’t exist, like, ever.”
Kenna had just eaten a chip, so of course she choked on it. Because the kid’s totally innocent comments had her thinking that she might know some other Y-chromosome types who preferred less clothing, too.
Sierra dropped her head into her hands. “Well, at least he had underwear on. I swear, the kid won’t keep his clothes on. He walks in the door and the shirts and pants start flying. Half the time, there are penises just flapping in the wind around here.”
Kenna lost it. Just flat out lost it. Laughing and coughing, she managed to get to the counter for a paper towel that she pressed to her mouth as tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. “Penises...flapping...” She gasped out the words around her hysterics. Because she’d been to a place where that was actually true. Many times.
When she finally calmed, she took a deep breath and faced Sierra.
Who promptly burst into tears.
Kenna’s gut dropped to the floor as she rushed to her sister. “Oh, God, Si. What’s wrong?”
Sierra stole the paper towel from her hands and tried to stem the flow from her eyes. “It’s just that...that’s the first time I think you’ve really laughed...since you got back.”
“Oh.” She nodded. “Yeah.” She sank to a crouch in front of her sister’s knees. “I’m sorry for that. For so much. I know I’ve been intolerable. God, somedays I can barely stand to be around myself. But I am going to start trying more. With everything. With you. Can you forgive me? Because I could really use my friend and sister again.”
“Oh, hon,” Sierra said, wrapping her arms around Kenna’s shoulders. She returned the embrace, and it felt like a little piece of Kenna snapped into place. “Talk to me, Ken. Tell me everything you can. Because I’ve missed you so much.”
After a moment, Kenna slid back into her own seat and tried to decide what to say and where to start. Suddenly, she wanted one other person in the world besides Georgia, who was no longer here, and Griffin, who...Kenna didn’t even know what to think about him, to know the real her—the whole of her.
“Okay. Well, um, I went somewhere last night. To a club. A club I used to go to before I enlisted in the Marines. And I saw someone I used to know,” she said.
“You went to a club? Like, a dance club? Holy crap, Kenna, was it like a date?”
“Not a dance club,” Kenna said, peering up at her sister as she dipped a chip into the salsa. “A sex club.” Biting. Chewing.
Silence from the other side of the table.
Sierra blinked, and her mouth dropped open. “A sex club.”
Kenna nodded. “Yup. Where people have sex. A BDSM club, to be more exact.”
“I knew we were going to need wine,” Si said in a surprised-but-neutral tone. She grabbed a bottle of white and two glasses, poured, and took a big sip. “So, BDSM. As in bondage, domination...”
“Sadism and masochism. Though I’m more into the first two. I’m a submissive. I have been since I was first sexually active. I just didn’t realize it was a thing until I met other people with similar interests,” Kenna said. “I was a regular member of the club for a couple of years before I enlisted.” She’d found Blasphemy the year after she’d graduated college, which was the first year it’d opened. And then one night, a tall, dark, and finely built Dominant wearing one of the cuffs of the club’s Masters had approached her and they’d done a scorching-hot scene together.
Master Griffin.
They’d quickly become almost entirely exclusive except for the demonstrations and workshops he’d had to do. Often, she’d done those with him, but occasionally, her schedule wouldn’t allow that. And those instances had eventually gotten harder and harder for her to tolerate—until she’d finally come clean to him about her feelings.
“Okay, can we rewind to the part where you might’ve had a date last night?” Sierra asked.
Kenna smirked, but she couldn’t stop it from sliding into a smile. “It wasn’t a date. Not exactly.”