Page 52 of Forbidden Fruit
We clink glasses without a word. And then we eat.
It starts slow, small bites, little sips, quiet calm. She hums after her first taste, and I can’t help but smile at the sound.
“This is amazing,” she says, glancing down at the pasta and grilled vegetables. “When did you even have the time to ask… whoever you asked to do this?”
“I asked the chef to prep something light before we went out.” I pause, swirling the wine in my glass. “Figured if I don’t feed you, who would?” I tease, hoping to cut the lingering tension.
She rolls her eyes, but the smile she hides behind her wine glass tells me it worked. “How heroic of you.”
“I do my best for the greater good.”
She snorts, and just like that, the heaviness between us shifts. It doesn’t vanish; nothing that complicated disappears so easily, but it settles, softer around the edges.
Conversation starts to flow again. She talks about a dress she worked on for her school final and Paris. Somewhere between bites of grilled vegetables and a refill of wine, she becomes hesitant.
“I… I wanted to ask you something,” she says, eyes flicking to mine, then quickly back to her plate. “But please feel free to say no. I don’t want to make things weird or…”
“Blair,” I cut in gently, “ask what you need to ask.”
She sets her silverware down, the clink of metal against porcelain breaking the flow of our conversation. Her eyes are serious as she looks at me, and my stomach tightens. I set down my fork, my attention fully on her now.
“What’s going on?” I ask. “Are you okay?”
She nods quickly, almost too quickly. “Yes, I’m fine. It’s just…” She trails off, glancing down at her lap before meeting my gaze again. “I’ve been doing some research,” she finally says. She runs her fingers along the stem of her wine glass, avoiding my gaze.
“Research?” I repeat calmly, though my curiosity is piqued. “About what?”
She takes a deep breath, bracing, before lifting her eyes to meet mine. There’s a flicker of nerves in them, but also resolve. “About… you know… BDSM.”
The words hang in the air between us. I don’t react outwardly. Internally, though, a flicker of heat wakes beneath my skin, sharp and immediate. I keep my expression neutral, voice even. “You’ve been reading up on it?”
She nods. “Yes. And I…” Her fingers curl around the stem of her wine glass. “I want to try it.”
I pause, not because I’m surprised, but because I need to make sure I respond the right way. The responsible way. She’s looking at me, eyes wide but unwavering, and I can feel how serious this is for her.
“With me,” I say steady. Not a question. Just confirmation.
“Yes.” Her voice is clear, certain. “I want you to be the one to show me.”
My jaw flexes slightly as I exhale. I have to bite back the instinct to immediately reach for her. “You’re serious about this.” It’s not doubt in my voice, but the kind of gravity that comes with knowing exactly what she’s asking. “This isn’t just sex, Blair,” I say firmly. “BDSM, done right, is about trust, safety, and boundaries. It requires emotional responsibility, not just physical control.”
“I know,” she says. “I just want to try it, to find out if it’sthe lifestyle for me. And there’s no one else I know, let alone trust, who’s an actual dom.”
Her voice is soft but sure, and I can hear the plea buried beneath the statement. She’s asking me to guide her into a world that requires absolute trust. I don’t take that lightly.
I study her, letting the silence stretch long enough for the gravity of her words to settle between us. She doesn’t flinch under my gaze, and that earns my respect.
“And what is it exactly that you want to try, Blair?” I ask carefully.
She hesitates, visibly gathering herself. I don’t rush her. This part matters.
“I don’t know,” she says. “I liked it. When you tied me up last night.”
My mind flashes back to last night, to the way she allowed me to bind her wrists, her body open and trusting, the way her eyes locked on mine like she wanted to be consumed. My dick stirs at the memory, but I force myself to breathe through it. This is about her, not me.
“Bondage,” I say evenly, my voice low. “That’s a start. What else?”
Her cheeks flush as she looks away, fingers twisting at the base of her wine glass. “I liked the control… the way you told me what to do. I didn’t have to think, just feel. I want more of that.”
