The Shepherd (The Game 6)

“Part of it is, I’m very curious about your sadism,” he said. “Just because I’m not a masochist doesn’t mean I don’t find the fetish appealing. It can be so intense to watch.”

That warmed my heart. “You’ll have plenty of opportunities to see me beat masos. I want you next to me as much as possible.”

He drew a breath and nodded slightly. “That’s the second part. I want to be near you, Sir. Even though I consider myself relatively open, I’d like to know what’s going on. I’m…” He swallowed, suddenly appearing nervous. “I’m not sure I’d be comfortable if you played with others when I’m not around.”

Now we were talking. And as he said those exact words, I sensed the rightness of them deep in my core. I felt the same way.

“Archie, look at me.”

He lifted his chin and made eye contact, and I wanted every ounce of that trepidation gone.

“From now on, we’re a package deal, you and I,” I told him. “As one of the founding members out here, I’m almost always part of events and demos in some way, but you and I won’t play separately. If you can’t accompany me to an event, everything I do will be nonsexual on my end.” I didn’t need to hear him say he was relieved; I saw it in his expression. “Are you okay with me assisting other Tops with their subs? For example, prepare a sub for sexual play with someone else. Beat a sub who’s being fucked by their Dom, or demonstrating certain toys and—”

“All that is totally fine, Sir,” he responded quickly. “I’ve attended enough events to know how things go, especially with service Tops. Of course what you expose subs to is going to turn them on.”

Or hurt them and then turn them on, whichever.

I smiled at him. I didn’t know if it’d been one thing in particular or just my big-picture impression that’d been forming since the day he walked back into my life, but I was certain that I was losing my heart to this man, inch by inch, ounce by ounce. It’d probably started the night of the Halloween party.

“That’s settled, then,” I murmured. “But if you ever feel worried or want to change those limits, tell me right away. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir,” he replied. “And you know that Sloan is still the exception.”

Oh, for chrissakes.

“You had to bring him up?”

“I did.” He squared his shoulders, his stare never wavering, despite my obvious irritation. He had to see how I’d tensed up. “I know what I know, Greer.”

“You know exactly what I’ve told you,” I answered, doing my best to stay level.

He shook his head, and his gaze softened. “You’re blind, Sir. You’ve spent hours this week talking about your friendship, his children, and how you want to help him. But I see the rest too. He’s all over the house. You have more pictures of him and his kids than your actual family. And I listen to the little things you say in passing. ‘Those are Sloan’s cereals,’ ‘Oh, Sloan picked out the porch furniture,’ ‘I planted those flowers for Sloan because they remind him of his mother.’”

I blew out a breath and scrubbed a hand over my face, not wanting to hear another goddamn word.

“I see the pinch of disappointment every time you get a message from the wrong person, too,” he finished quietly.

Fuck.

Resting my elbows on my thighs, I looked at him tiredly as all my energy poured out of me. I didn’t know what to say anymore. It wasn’t just Archie I was fighting on this topic; it was Peyton, Genevieve, Ma…and what if I was fighting myself as well? Why was Sloan such a motherfucking sensitive matter to me? Why did I automatically recoil at the mention of us being more than friends?

If someone had said it looked like I was more than friends with…I didn’t know, River? Reese? Kingsley? I would’ve laughed it off. I sure as fuck wouldn’t have gotten all defensive.

On the other hand, with those guys, I didn’t have much to lose. Kingsley wouldn’t exactly stop being my buddy because someone else thought there was something between us. With Sloan, I wasn’t sure. He was prone to going back and forth, and if I lost him, I lost Jason, Jamie, Emma-Jo, and Loki too.

“Suppose I did…” I cleared my throat, uncomfortable as fuck. “Suppose the thought’s crossed my mind a few times over the years. What does it matter?”

Archie snuck closer, still on his knees, still with his hands clasped behind his back, and dropped a kiss to my leg. “I don’t know that it does. But it could.” He straightened and looked up at me. “Just be open, Sir. And if we’re to include others in our relationship at some point, is there any person more suited than the man whose essence you’ve already decorated your house with?”