He chuckled. “Was I that obvious?” He stood. “Come with me. I have some shopping to do.”
I blinked. “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”
Stefan laughed. “No, because this is not the place for that conversation. But wewillhave it, I promise you. And right now there’s somewhere I need to go first, and I’d like you to come with me. Think of it as part of your… education.”
I narrowed my gaze. “Youdorealise that telling a man ‘this is part of your education’ without any further explanation is the fastest way to make him imagine the worst.”
Stefan chuckled. “The worst?”
“I don’t know what the worst is yet,” I admitted. “But I’m fairly certain I’ll recognise it when I see it.”
“That’s part of the process.”
I followed him to the cafe door. “You’re enjoying this,” I said in a mock accusatory tone.
“Immensely.”
I shook my head, but I couldn’t suppress my smile. Whatever Stefan was about to show me mattered. I could feel that much already. And although apprehension tightened my chest, I didn’t want to back away from it.
We stepped out onto the street.
“Fine,” I said. “Lead the way.”
Not that I needed to say the words. Something in me had already decided.
The sign was simple.Mister B. The window was filled with mannequins wearing leather or rubber.
The inside took my breath away.
I stared at racks full of leather gear, rubber, skimpy shorts, tees, harnesses… But they weren’t what stopped me cold.
That was everything else.
Floggers, paddles, whips, collars. Things I’d seen on online—late at night, half-curious, half-disbelieving—but never in real life. Because going to a sex shop back in Manchester?
I didn’t have the nerve.
And then there was the back wall.
Rows of toys—dildos, cock rings, vibrators, ball gags, cages—lined up with an almost clinical precision. Shelves behind the counter held more varieties of lube than I would’ve thought possible.
One label caught my eye, and I coughed. “Well… I think I know whatthat’sfor.”
The word FIST was printed in unapologetically large letters.
Stefan followed my gaze, a hint of amusement in his expression. “I have plenty of lube at home.”
My pulse kicked up a notch. “Do you use that one?”
“On occasion.”
Sweet Jesus.
My brain didn’t quite know what to do with that information. Part of me recoiled instinctively, whereas the other half… didn’t, which I found unsettling.
Inside me. Oh. My. God.
“Pick a toy.”