CHAPTER 5
Though Sandra and Derrick had spent countless hours together over the past few years, it had always been on neutral ground — parks, cafés, or her own home, the one she'd once shared with Clement. This, though… this was different. The last time she'd stepped foot inside Derrick's house had been when Clement was still alive, back when the three of them had been close — too close for her heart to not ache now.
Derrick's arm slipped around her waist as he guided her through the entryway and into the living room. She tensed beneath his touch but didn't pull away. Her mind was too full of dread — like waiting for a heavy weight to fall from the sky and crush her.
Once they reached the living room, Derrick let her go, stepping back as he ran a tense hand through his hair. His posture screamed frustration, and when he turned toward her, his expression was stormy. There was no soft preamble. Just heat.
"What the hell were you doing at that place tonight, Sandra?"
His voice was sharp, laced with a fury she hadn't anticipated. She flinched. Her eyes dimmed.
"Do you even understand what kind of danger you put yourself in?" he pressed, voice rising. "Do you know what could've happened? What Craig would've done to you if I hadn't stopped him?"
His words tumbled out, furious and protective and raw. "He would've bent you over, used you for his own gratification, not giving a damn about your pleasure or comfort. It wouldn't have mattered that you were new or uncertain. You'd have been nothing but a thrill to him. That's who he is. What were you thinking, Sandra?"
Her lips parted, her eyes glistening. The tears that hovered there made his chest tighten. He hadn't wanted to be the one to break her — not when she'd fought so hard all day to keep her composure.
"I do understand, Derrick," she said quietly, her voice thick with emotion. "More than you think."
His brow furrowed. "Have you been there before? Is this something you've done without telling anyone?"
She shook her head slowly. "Tonight was the first time."
Derrick swore under his breath and turned away from her, gripping the back of the nearest chair.
"You have no idea what could've happened if I hadn't been there. I'm not letting you go back. You don't belong there."
Her chin lifted then, shaky but determined. She looked him in the eye, defiance flickering through the tears.
"You don't understand. You couldn't."
"Then explain it," he said evenly. "Help me understand."
There was a long pause — her internal battle written clearly across her face. She looked like she wanted to fold in on herself, to disappear. But then she drew a breath and lowered herself onto the couch, burying her face in her hands. Her shoulders trembled, and Derrick's heart wrenched. He wanted to go to her. To hold her. But he waited.
When she looked up again, her eyes were glassy with unshed tears. Her voice was a whisper.
"Clement was everything to me. He was my person, my soulmate. I'll never have that again."
Derrick felt the words strike deep. He held his breath, swallowing his own pain. She continued.
"He gave me everything I could ever ask for. Except…" Her voice cracked. She dropped her gaze. "Except something I didn't have the heart to ask for."
He sat beside her slowly, every muscle tense. "What didn't he give you, Sandra?"
"Dominance," she said so quietly he almost missed it.
The word coiled through the room like smoke. Derrick felt a jolt move through him — a surge of hope he didn't dare trust.
"Dominance?"
She nodded, her voice trembling but honest.
"You know what Clement went through. What he and Sophia suffered growing up. He was so afraid of turning into his father that he couldn't bring himself to do anything that even resembled control. Even though I told him again and again that it was different — that we were different. He couldn't see it. And he wouldn't risk it. Not with me. Not with any future children we might have had."
Her voice broke, and Derrick reached for her, pulling her gently into his arms. She clung to him, face buried against his chest, the years of grief and regret finally rising to the surface.
"He would have been a good father," Derrick said quietly. "He never would've hurt you or a child. You know that, right?"
"I do," she whispered. "But he didn't. And I couldn't convince him otherwise."
She sat back, wiping at her tears. Her voice steadied, if only slightly.
"It still affects Sophia too. When I told her I was going to The House, she panicked. But I had to go, Derrick. I had to see if the emptiness inside me was something I could understand. It's been there for years. Quiet. Persistent. I didn't just wake up one day and decide to experiment. I've been researching, talking with Damon Roche, trying to understand what it is I need. He made sure I wasn't acting out of grief or desperation."
That gave Derrick pause. He nodded, slowly. He respected Damon. Trusted his judgment.
Sandra took a breath. "I need to know if this part of me — this aching, vulnerable, submissive part — is real. If it's mine. It's not about surviving, Derrick. It's about choosing."
He was still, his pulse thudding loud in his ears.
"So tell me what it is you want," he said, voice low. "Tell me what you need. No judgment. Just honesty."
She looked at him then, her expression stark. "I want to belong to someone. To be protected. Guided. Claimed. Not because I can't stand on my own, but because I want to surrender — to the right man."
Derrick reached out, brushing his thumb gently across her trembling lips.
"You don't owe me an explanation. I'm here. Just talk to me."
And God help him, he hoped — no, knew — he was the man she needed.
She hesitated. "I thought I was ready. But then I saw you. And everything twisted. I felt ashamed, like I was betraying Clement. I didn't want you to know."
Then something shifted in her expression. A realization.
"Why were you there, Derrick?"
But he didn't answer that yet. Not until he knew where she stood.
"I need to know something first," he said, eyes locked on hers. "Is this real for you? This need? Or is it something you're testing?"
Her answer was steady. "It's real. This is who I am."
He leaned in, so close their breath mingled.
"Then listen to me carefully," he said, voice like gravel and silk. "If this is what you want — if this is truly what you need — then you'll give that submission to me. And only me."
Her breath hitched. She stared at him, stunned.
This wasn't the man she'd leaned on for support all these years. Not just that. This man sitting in front of her — intense, commanding, unmistakably dominant — was someone entirely new. And yet, somehow, he'd been there all along.
"I… I don't understand," she whispered.
And then he said the words that unraveled everything.
"I've waited for you, Sandra. For longer than you know. I never crossed the line, because Clement was my brother in every way but blood. But he's gone now. And I won't stand by and watch you give yourself to someone who doesn't deserve you. If this is the life you want… then you're mine."
She shook her head, emotions warring in her eyes. "Is this out of duty? You feel responsible—"
"No." His voice cut through her doubts. "This is not about obligation. I've loved you in silence for years. I didn't plan this. But if this is truly what you want… then I'm not stepping aside."
She couldn't breathe. Couldn't think.
And yet, as his words echoed through her soul, something inside her — something long dormant — stirred.
Maybe, just maybe, this wasn't the end of her story after all.
Maybe it was the beginning.