I gave voice to what I thought he was trying to explain. “It’s what it feels like when your kinks align as closely as ours do. I’m an Amazon, so I want to push you and test you and tease you, ultimately having you prove yourself worthy. You’re an Alpha Dom, so you like to not only proving yourself worthy, but push me right back, challenging me to want more, expect more. You make me vulnerable, but then take care of me and make me feel protected and cared for. You want me to submit, but you don’t want it to come easily. We’re equals in and out of the bedroom, so we don’t have to hold anything back.”

He nodded enthusiastically. “That’s it exactly. I feel the most me when I’m with you.”

Well, fuck.

I couldn’t engage with that kind of raw honestly, didn’t know what to say, so I grabbed a towel and kissed him gently, fleeing the room before I said something that would change the nature of our relationship.

Once we were clean and dry, we found our way back under the covers, languid with pleasure.

“Should I tell you what the key’s really for now?” I asked.

He nodded, so I turned it over and showed him the little light and the button. “It’s got a fob built in that lets us access the various rooms and elevators of the dungeon, but more importantly, it’s our panic button. It pairs with our security system through an app. It’s got an audio connection to security. V has been toying with it recording audio or even video if something happens, but obviously that’s a client privacy concern.”

“What if you’re in bondage and can’t reach the button?” He was frowning.

“I can voice activate it.”

“What if you’re gagged?” He looked concerned now, clearly playing through the various scenarios I could end up in at work.

“Listen to you, Boy Scout, thinking of everything. I could hold it in my hand, but I wouldn’t put myself in that position with a client I didn’t completely trust.”

“I hate thinking of you having to use it.” His expression was so soft it was almost pitying and I resented that.

“You seem to have this idea in your head that I’m in more danger when I’m working, and I don’t know how to disabuse you of that notion. Things have been uncomfortable with clients a few times and scary once. I’ve lost track of the number of times inappropriate things have happened outside the dungeon, the number of times men have made me feel unsafe or violated. Do the times I’ve ended up with a guy’s dick in my mouth to just get him off because I was scared he would rape me if I didn’t count? How about the professor who stuck his hand down my pants but the university didn’t so much as give him a slap on the wrist when I reported it?” He scrubbed a hand through his hair, but didn’t interrupt me. “Those ones are obvious. What about the infinite times I’ve felt scared walking alone at night or riding on public transportation? I don’t think men can begin to understand what any given day feels like for a woman.”