by Tara Sue Me
My salad arrived and for the next twenty minutes, Felicia and I chatted and laughed about anything and everything. I couldn’t remember the last time it had just been the two of us talking. Before we hung up, I promised again to come visit as soon as we got home.
I was smiling after we said good-bye. Jackson had come into the bedroom with a snack and Felicia wasted no time getting off the phone. They were so good together. I’d wondered at first if they had gotten married too quickly, but hearing and seeing them so many years later, it was obvious they’d made the right decision.
I looked down at the list I’d made and frowned. For once, writing hadn’t helped me clear my head. Sighing, I waved the waitress over to take my plate away and bring the check. I had to fit in a workout before Nathaniel made it to the room, but I wanted to go for a run and I had to let my food settle first.
I sent Nathaniel a text. Finished lunch. Going to go for walk before I run a mile or two.
His reply was almost instant. Be careful.
You too, I couldn’t help but say back. He didn’t text anything else.
For about an hour, I walked around the neighborhood where the restaurant was and did a little bit of shopping. As it got to be two o’clock, I hailed a cab so I could get ready for my run. But more important, so I could prepare mentally for Nathaniel.
* * *
“What would you like to eat?” Nathaniel asked me five hours later, while we sat at an upscale steakhouse.
He’d changed the rules for the evening: I didn’t have to sit next to him and I didn’t have to keep my hand on his thigh. He had picked out my dress, though, and I still wasn’t allowed to speak without permission.
Usually when he asked me that question, I’d reply with something like, “Whatever you wish, Master,” or, “I don’t care—you decide.” But tonight I didn’t want him to decide for me. He raised an eyebrow when I replied with my salad choice, entrée, and beverage, but nodded and gave my order to the waiter.
I fidgeted in my seat. The collar felt unusually heavy tonight, like a weight. I wondered why I had ever agreed to an entire week. How many days had passed and how many were left? And feeling the way I did, why would I ever agree to do something like it on a more permanent basis?
“You seem withdrawn tonight,” Nathaniel said and took a sip of red wine. “Distant. And you’re restless.”
“I’m not allowed to speak unless you give me permission.”
He sighed heavily and templed his fingers on the table. In the dim light of the restaurant, the faint lines around his eyes were noticeable. Of course those green eyes of his were just as intense and knowing as ever. I forced myself to remain still under his scrutiny.
“I’m not going to take your collar off in the middle of the restaurant, but I do wonder what’s going on in that head of yours.”
“Do you?” I asked. “I was under the impression you wanted me to be some sort of robotic submissive.”
“What gave you that idea?” He spoke calmly with no hint of judgment or anger in his tone.
“Not even a full week into an experimental twenty-four/seven role, you decide you want something more structured and intense than what we’ve always had and agreed to.”
“And that equates to me wanting a robotic submissive?”
Hearing the words said out loud exposed them for being as nonsensical as they were. I lifted my chin. “It made more sense in my head, but yes, that’s what I think.”
“We’ve been together how many years and you can think that of me?” His voice was still calm, but it now held an icy edge. “I’m insulted.”
“I’m being honest—isn’t that what you wanted?”
“I don’t know. To hear you talk, I want a robot.”
“You can be so obtuse sometimes.”
He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. The intensity of his scrutiny made me feel more exposed than when I’d been naked before him.
“Tell me what’s going on,” he said, once more calm and in control.
“Why do you assume something’s going on?”
“Because I know you.” He leaned forward. “Every inch of your body, every response it has to me, every sigh you sigh in pleasure, and every moan you give me in need. And I know you love everything about being on your knees before me. So for you to sit there and tell me otherwise leads me to believe there’s something else going on.”
I acted as matter-of-factly as possible and shrugged my shoulders. “Think whatever you want. I just don’t believe it’s a good idea to change things up.”
“I’m giving you one last chance to tell me what’s really going on.”
Or what, I wanted to say. “There’s nothing going on.”
Our conversation was interrupted by the waiter bringing our food. Nathaniel kept his eyes on me while he spoke to the young man. “We’ve had a change in plans. Wrap these up to go and bring me the check.”
He was silent on the way back to the hotel. Unlike the quiet, peaceful silence of a few days ago, this silence had an uneasy and uncomfortable undertone to it. I didn’t even try to do anything to ease it. I slid all the way over to my side of the backseat and stared out the window.
We didn’t touch as we got out of the car when it arrived at the hotel. Nathaniel held the door open for me and took the take-out boxes without saying a word. If I thought the night couldn’t get more uncomfortable, I was wrong. Charlene was standing in the bar area as we rounded the corner to the elevators.
“Nathaniel!” she called, walking over in heels that made her legs look impossibly long. “I was hoping to run into you.”
I snorted. “I’ll bet.”
“Charlene,” Nathaniel said. “Is there any way this can wait?”
She came to a stop in front of us and swept a curl behind her ear. “Not for very long. Is it possible to get in touch with me later this evening?”
No fucking way.
“I can call you in an hour,” he said, his tone flat.
Un-fucking-believable. I’m sure my jaw hit the floor. Rage boiled inside me so hot, my insides quivered.
“Looking forward to it.” She waved at me. “’Bye, Abby.”
I gave her my best fake smile. Bitch.
Nathaniel ran his fingers through his hair once we got inside the elevator. A sure sign he was agitated.
Well, good. That makes two of us.
If I’d thought the car ride to the hotel was uncomfortable, the elevator ride to our suite was even worse. I could almost hear the tick, tick, tick of the coming explosion. I waited until we made it into our room and he closed the door behind me.
“I don’t feel like talking,” I said. “I think I’ll go to bed. You go call What’s-her-name.”
“Not until you tell me what the fuck is wrong with you.”
“Okay. Fine.” I stopped and put my hands on my hips. I had his collar on, but since he’d asked, he was going to get his answer. And I probably wouldn’t be respectful about it, but at the moment, I didn’t care about consequences. “You want me to tell you? I know why you couldn’t have lunch with me.”
His expression didn’t change. He made one hell of a poker player. “And why was that?”
“I saw you with her in the bar! You said you were in a meeting.”
“I was in a meeting.”
“In a bar?”
He took a step toward me, and his face still didn’t reveal anything. “The conference is in a hotel. Where should I have met with her? In her room?”
“Right, like that would be better.”
“Do you think if I had something to hide or was even contemplating doing anything remotely resembling what you’re suggesting, that I would do it in a public bar?”
“Yes.”
He took a deep breath and clenched his fists. “Are you saying you think I’m fucking Charlene?”
“No, I know you’re not fucking her. If I thought for an instant you were, we wouldn’t
be having this conversation because you’d be dead and I’d be in jail. What I was saying was that if you were going to fuck her, you’d be sly enough to use the ‘We’re just meeting in the bar for business’ line so people wouldn’t think anything of you being seen together.”
“I see. So I’m not a cheater. I just have a devious mind.”
“You don’t get to be CEO of a successful business by playing nice in the sandbox.”
“This isn’t a damn sandbox.”
I put my hands on my hips. “And then you throw on me that you want to extend the time I’m collared and, oh, yeah, let’s do it right now.”
“Sit down and let’s talk this out like calm adults.” He turned and walked toward the couch, stopping on the way to pull the curtains closed.
“Why did you meet with her for lunch? What are you talking about tonight?”
He spun around to face me and his features were hard and cold. “It is business. We were talking about the nonprofit.”
“You refuse to tell me.”
“I just did.”
“I don’t believe you.”
We stared at each other for several long seconds, my words hanging in the air. Each judging the other, weighing what to say next, anticipating what might be done. We were so different in many ways, but so similar in others. Neither one of us changed our minds easily.
“I’m not pleased at all you just said that,” he said and by not pleased at all, he meant mad as fucking hell.
I thought about what I could say to diffuse the situation, but his phone vibrated and he reached into his pocket and pulled it out. He frowned at the display.
“Who is it?” I asked.
“Her.”
“Fuck diffusing the situation,” I said. “I’m going to bed. You sleep on the floor.” I stomped into the bedroom and slammed the door. I waited for a few minutes, staring at it, expecting him to bust in or knock or do something.
Surprisingly, he didn’t say or do anything. In fact, when I crawled into bed, he still hadn’t knocked. I strained my ears, listening for any sort of sound from the other room, but finally gave up and fell into an uneasy sleep.
Rough hands woke me up at some point, shocking me out of sleep. I flinched and struggled to get away.
“Damn it, Abigail,” Nathaniel said while I twisted out of his hands. He grabbed me again and turned me onto my stomach. “Go ahead. Fight me.”
His knee dug into the lower part of my back and I heard him rip his shirt off. The mattress bounced as he threw it to the ground. Fuck. He was angry. I tried to turn over, but he held me tight to the bed. He shifted again and his body was pressed along the length of my back.
“I should spank your ass for ever thinking I’d want anyone other than you. How dare you say you didn’t believe me. And I’ll be damned if I’m sleeping on the floor.” He grabbed me by the nape of my neck and bit my ear. “Do you understand?”
“Fuck you,” I said, fully awake and remembering every word of my outburst.
He jerked the hem of my gown to my waist and slapped my ass. Hard. “I’m mad as fucking hell right now, so you better watch your language.”
I tried to kick back at him, but missed. “You think I’m not mad?”
“I really don’t care how you feel right now.”
“Asshole.”
He slapped my ass again and shoved my legs apart. His erection pressed against my anus. “Speaking of assholes, what’s keeping me from fucking yours right now?”
Shit. He wouldn’t, would he? He’d never treated me like that when he was angry.
But he held my upper body and arms down, showing me he could if he wanted to.
“You wouldn’t dare.”
His laugh was evil. “No. No, I wouldn’t, but you’re walking a thin line. I understand you’re upset and angry, but you need to watch it.”
I struggled again to break away, but he held me fast. “Fuck you,” I said again.
He slapped my ass for the third time, even harder. “Only one of us is getting fucked tonight,” he said and lifted my hips to enter me with a powerful thrust.
“Fuck,” I said, because even though I was angry at him, it still felt good.
He shoved a hand over my mouth. “Don’t you dare disturb the hotel guests. Fucking you is the only thing keeping me sane right now.” He pulled his cock out and thrust inside again as if proving a point. “So you’re going to damn well take it. And don’t think for one minute this negates what’s coming tomorrow.”
I didn’t want to think about tomorrow just yet. My body yielded to his control, but my mind was still pissed. His hips moved in a punishing, violent rhythm and though I fought it, I craved it. There was freedom in his control. In his use of me.
“I’m busy tomorrow,” I said, like he wasn’t pounding into me and we were just having an everyday conversation.
“Like hell.” He lifted my hips so he could drive even deeper.
I couldn’t twist away from him even if I wanted to. But his hand rested near my face, and without giving it much thought, I turned slightly and bit his palm. He jerked in surprise and slid out of me.
Everything was a blur as he flipped me over and pinned my arms above my head. “Did you just bite me?”
“Damn straight, asshole. You think you can just come in here and shove your cock in me? Like you own me?” He lowered his head in a way that looked as if he was going to kiss me, but I turned my head. “Damn dominant men. You guys think every woman on the planet is just waiting for an opportunity to spread her legs for you.”
He whispered harshly in my ear, “I believe, Mrs. West, that the first time you came into my office, you were, in fact, waiting for an opportunity to spread your legs for me.” He held both my hands in one of his and shoved the other inside my thighs, pushing two fingers inside. “And look at this, you’re still wet at the thought of doing it again.”
I couldn’t deny the way my body reacted to him, so instead I said, “Sometimes, I don’t like you very much.”
His eyes were dark and cold. “Sometimes, I feel the same.”
We stared at each other for long seconds. We were similar in so many ways. Stubborn and hardheaded. I felt the anger and fear and relief rolling off him and I knew he sensed the same from me. Neither one of us could attack the person we wanted to, so instead we were taking it out on each other. With our emotions running so high, there was only one way to find release.
“Use me, then,” I finally said. “Make it hurt.”
This time when he moved his lips to mine, I let him kiss me. But even though his mouth was rough on mine, I was just as rough on his. He let go of my hands and palmed my breasts, squeezing them. I grabbed his ass, needing him back inside me, and dug my nails into him in the process. Neither one of us would get through the night unmarked.
He bucked against me, but still didn’t take me.
“Damn you,” I said, trying to reach his cock, but failing. “Do it.”
Breathing heavily, he sat up. Keeping his eyes locked firmly on mine, he took my upper thighs and pried them apart, his fingers so rough I’d have bruises in the morning.
“You see?” he asked, panting. “Just can’t wait to spread for my cock.”
“Bastard,” I spat.
He took his cock in hand, chuckling. “That might be the case, but it’s your pussy that’s getting wet just watching me stroke myself.” I opened my mouth, but he added, “Tell me I’m wrong and I’ll have you watch as I jerk off and come all over your stomach.”
I glared at him.
“Speechless, are you?” he asked. “Good. I hate it when chatter interrupts a nice hard fuck.”