Fulfilled by Allyson Young

rubbed her hair dry, combing his fingers through its length.
    He spoke behind her, and she detected a note of wistfulness. “I wouldn’t want you to cut this, little one.”
    She nodded and waited for him to speak. What was going on? He kept talking as though there were conditions…Cold tingled in her belly, joining that niggle of worry, spiraling out into her extremities. She wasn’t enough for him. Wasn’t what he expected or wanted. She didn’t think he was the kind of man to have sex with a woman and dump her after using her, but what did she know? She lacked any experience, but fear of rejection didn’t require experience. She worked hard, harder than she’d ever worked before at not letting her anxiety show, schooling her body as never before. It was easier because he wasn’t looking at her either.
    “First of all, we would have to wait for the medical. Patrick isn’t going to be happy with me, although I walked the line. I’ve never enjoyed vanilla sex so much, honey, and I’m honored to be your first.”
    Okay, maybe he wasn’t kicking her to the curb. So what was it? Enough. Where was all this famed communication preached ad nauseam? The cornerstone of BDSM. She pulled out of his loose hold and faced him. He set his hands at her waist and met her look. He visibly pushed the words out.
    “I wanted to train you in this Lifestyle, Lois. At first I wouldn’t admit to it being more than training, but I knew it was more. Instant attraction, whatever, at first sight. No denying it. I was even prepared to quit training subs, at least until we could discuss it further. And abstain from being sexual with other women.”
    He probably thought he could convince her of anything and he might be right. She didn’t seem to have much will around him, pretty much trusted him and was willing to follow, but she wasn’t ever going to be accepting of other women. She sought to begin a conversation to address it.
    “I feel it, too. And I know it’s your job but still…”
    He looked at her and shrugged. The arrogance was there, the certainty he could convince and manage her. So why did he look uncertain?
    “I have to know what you want. Are kids part of your future plan?” He sounded distant again.
    What? Surely this was a premature discussion. Jonathon’s reaction to Nathan flickered through her head, as did his response to her comment about not wanting to risk pregnancy so quickly, made not an hour ago. Was it because he was black? Did he not want a mixed-race child? Might his family have an issue?
    “Lois, quit thinking and talk to me. It’s a simple question.”
    No, it wasn’t. It was loaded with innuendo and seethed with portents she couldn’t interpret, and it terrified her.
    “Lois.”
    “I want children. I’m worried I’m too old, but I want them, at least one.”
    Jonathon’s face closed off, and he nodded. “I thought so when I saw you with Nathan. And you’re a nanny. Nannies obviously like kids.”
    He released her and got up, giving her his back. She stood riveted, yet adrift, confused, watching him find a pair of boxers in his dresser and pull them on. Jeans next, and a tight gray T-shirt completed his ensemble. Armor. He looked amazing and unapproachable. Her heart tried to take shelter but had nowhere to run. He picked up her clothes and came to dress her. Like a child. Lois stepped away, and her bra hung from his hand, limp like her hopes and dreams.
    “What is it, Jonathon?” She made herself ask. A person might not like the answer, but it was better than wondering. “What’s wrong?”
    “Get dressed and we’ll have breakfast. I don’t want to do this on an empty stomach.”
    She dressed automatically, pulling her underwear on under the cover of the towel, then her jeans. She snatched her bra away from him, fighting panic, noting the way his eyes narrowed in warning but she didn’t care. It was her turn to turn away. She tugged it up her arms, over her breasts and snagged the