Jamison stared at the door like it was his worst enemy. And so it was. It stood between him and his sub. Ivone was crying, he could hear it in her voice. He suddenly felt bereft and raised his hand again to knock, then lowered it. All his past emotional insecurities came flooding back in that moment, and he felt powerless against them. Ivone was shutting him out. Ivone, who talked about feelings as though they were worth their weight in gold and subsequently weighed his by the same measure, was withholding. He found he couldn’t handle it and was next standing outside by his SUV without a memory of leaving the house. He climbed inside and cranked the engine, then wheeled it around in a spray of gravel and pushed it up to speed with little regard for safety. Fuck this. He felt like the skin had been flayed from him because he knew there was a message from Ivone in there, one he had missed and one he couldn’t begin to guess at.
Patrick offered him a chair and Jamison settled into it, declining a drink. He leaned his elbows on his knees and lowered his head into his hands.
“Want to tell me?” Patrick asked quietly.
Jamison sat up and stared at his mentor. Patrick had been his go-to guy over the past months when Jamison had needed someone to discuss thrice-damned, fucking feelings with, and to talk about whatever the hell Ivone was getting at, was wanting from him. It had been like learning a different language, but he had done it for her. He indeed was hopelessly in love with her and with that prescient ability of someone in love, in tune with his other, knew something terrible had happened. Some other man might have written off Ivone’s behavior tonight, shrugged it off, but Jamison knew better. He tried to find the words.
“Ivone locked herself in her room and won’t talk to me.”
Patrick didn’t minimize, much to Jamison’s relief. But then, Patrick was the most insightful man he had ever met. He knew women, and he knew Jamison.
“Tell me.”
“She usually comes to the office with me.” At Patrick’s sardonic eyebrow raise, Jamison found himself flushing like a schoolboy and needing to defend himself. “I want her with me as much as possible.”
Patrick smiled. “You’re both making up for lost time, my friend. Ivone has told Madi a few things about herself, so I think I understand. Both of you want a loving connection and you are patently in love with her and she with you.”
Jamison stood and paced the length of the office. “I only just accepted that it’s love, Patrick, but she’s never told me.”
“She must love you to put up with your shit, Jami, and to spend such energy on being patient while you work things through in your usual pedantic style. Your very kink must inspire total trust, especially since she has forgiven you for that initiation you didn’t prepare her for, and trust is the essential foundation for any relationship. Ivone probably wants to hear it from you first. Now tell me the events leading up to this most recent issue.”
“I had a couple of meetings this afternoon and Ivone decided to go shopping or get her hair cut or something rather than wait for me in my office. She usually waits.” Jamison stopped talking and began thinking.
Ivone hadn’t gone to do something as frivolous as shopping or even to the hair stylist. Ivone had told him she had a doctor’s appointment but he hadn’t really taken notice, because he wasn’t happy she didn’t want to wait for him to conclude his meetings. That selfish side of him still caused grief. He had insisted she see a doctor some weeks earlier when her menstrual cramps kept her in bed for two months in a row, in pain and very uncomfortable. It had worried him to see her that way. She had told him afterwards she would need to change her birth control again, and he had accepted it without initiating further discussion, retreating from thinking about women’s troubles. He hadn’t gone to that appointment with her, being extremely uncomfortable around doctors and the like, and ruefully recalled her quiet assertion that he was going to have a physical as soon as she found a good doctor who would take him as a new patient. Jamison suddenly realized that Ivone had been the recipient of bad news. Come to think of it, she had been a little off since that first appointment, but her explanation had reassured him, and he let it go because he hadn’t wanted to think it was anything more complicated. Women were fragile. He had convinced himself of that over the years to assuage his inner infant’s guilt over his mother’s death, the guilt stoked by his father. This was another reason not to commit to one. They could die and leave you, hurt you. Jamison felt rage, fueled by fear and worry rise up in his chest until he thought his temples would explode.
“Jami?” Patrick’s voice came from a distance.
“She’s sick, Patrick. Sick, and I didn’t notice, and she fucking well didn’t tell me. Because she wants to spare me. Because of what my mother’s death did to me, among other things. Like how I want my own way all the time. You don’t need to tell me why she is withholding. Ivone has given me everything, all of her. I don’t need her to say the words to know that she loves me, heart and soul. She’s at home right now trying to figure out a way to terminate our contract so that it will be her fault and I’ll escape without my pride getting hurt and without any guilt. Because I goddamn well didn’t tell her that I love her and that I want to care for her for the rest of my life. If I had, the first thing she fucking well would have done would be to tell me that she was sick.”
And following that convoluted piece of reasoning, Jamison crossed to the door and nearly tore it off the hinges as he threw it open in his need to get back to Ivone.
“Jami?” Patrick’s voice was compelling.
“What?” he snarled.
“Actions speak louder than words, my friend, but you might want to find out what’s wrong first. Find out how sick she is. And Jamison? Welcome to the human race, my friend. Love isn’t always kind.”
Jamison’s vision cleared at Patrick’s words, the red haze lifting like a curtain. Cold terror replaced it, and with it went his resolve. What if it was serious? What if? He couldn’t go there. He gritted his teeth and gave Patrick a look before he headed out to his vehicle.
* * * *
Ivone heard the front door open and close, sometime after Jamison had stormed out earlier. She had worked it out. She was going to listen to reason and do the right thing, although was no longer quite certain if she trusted herself to know what that was, because it hurt so badly. She would refuse Jamison. Oh, not all the time. Just on those occasions when she knew it would really annoy him. He had already felt pushed tonight when she had spoken to him through the door. And soon he would regress to being a boor and would give her a reason to blow up at him and storm out. It had been hard work, this compromising between them, this supporting one another. He had come so far, as had she, in becoming a healthier and happier human being, but Jami still had that cold flint deep inside of him. She saw it in his business dealings, and felt it when she pushed him. It scared her a little, and she knew it kept him from telling her he loved her. But it also protected him, and she respected that, was glad he had it, for now she would use it to give him his freedom. He wouldn’t be able to tolerate rejection for any length of time, and his formidable pride, backed by that piece of flint, would save him from too much heartache when she left. She was terribly sad, heartbroken in fact, to think of leaving him, but it was the right thing to do. Jamison wouldn’t be complete without a family, now that he had set his mind on making a baby, and she wasn’t going to stand in his way. She owed him that. He had given her more that she had ever hoped for, let alone deserved. She would cherish the memory of their time together, but she wouldn’t be selfish and saddle Jamison with a barren wife. She carefully made up her face and went out to start to put her plan in action.
Jamison was standing in the great room, his back to the fireplace, a glass in his hand. The amber liquid caught the glow from the sconces, and Ivone realized his hand was shaking, the liquor gently swirling in concert. Her steps faltered. Jami had himself under iron control, something she rarely saw anymore unless they were doing a scene. His eyes were fixed on her, the
ir violet hue veiling his thoughts. Ivone suddenly wanted to run, knowing something momentous was coming down, something she wasn’t prepared for.
“Feeling better?”
Jamison’s quiet question nailed her feet to the floor. Ivone took a breath.
“I am, thanks.”
He turned to the fire, and she heard the glass thud onto the mantle, and then he had turned and was striding toward her with deadly intent. Ivone backed up, but he was upon her in an instant. He hauled her up against his chest and crushed her to him, taking her lips in a devastating kiss. Then he tore his mouth away and shook her, holding her by her upper arms, her feet off the floor. Ivone had opened her mouth to protest when Jamison set her down, only to scoop her up, cross the room and dump her in a chair. He knelt in front of her and took both of her hands in his.
“I talked to the doctor, Ivone.”
Ivone’s heart kicked up a notch, and she battled with instant anger that her privacy had been invaded. But then overwhelming relief drowned the anger. She wouldn’t have to pretend and see the man she loved struggle with her rejection. She just hoped that Jamison would be able to deal with it. She would still make it as easy as possible on him.
“I know why you didn’t tell me.”
How could he know? “What do you mean?” she asked carefully.
“I know you were going to find a way to leave so that you wouldn’t disappoint me, Ivone, if you couldn’t conceive. Because you love me too much to let me down.”
Ivone stared at her Dom in utter astonishment. Her heart swelled with hope, then cramped with fear. He wanted to terminate their contract rather than give her the opportunity to do so. He wasn’t ready for that. It had to be her fault for him to move past it with righteous anger and disdain. She heard him continue as if from a great distance.
“I am so full of conflicting fucking feelings right now, sub, that I’m not sure what to share first. I’m humbled that you would do this for me, to spare me, but I’m pissed that you didn’t give me more credit, although I’ll own some of that because I still have a selfish streak. I find myself wishing I’d told you how much I love you instead of waiting for you to say it first. We are so fucked up, Ivone, you and I, by our pasts.”
Ivone tried to respond, to say anything, but couldn’t push much more than a muttered “Oh” past her lips. Jamison gave her a dark look.
“But right now I am so furious with you, Ivone, that I could spit. I thought there could be something terribly wrong with you, that you were sick with something that would take you away from me permanently! Goddamn it, woman! You scared me to death! If you can’t have a child, we can adopt. I want you, Ivone. You.” Jamison’s tirade ended in a whisper, and his face was pale, his eyes bloodshot.
Ivone reached out and gently laid her hand on his cheek. She leaned into him and pressed her lips to his and then stood. He rose to his feet to tower over her, his face a study in confusion. She pulled her clothes off and knelt before him, lowering her forehead to the floor. Jamison was silent for what felt like an eternity, then bent to pull her up to her feet, enfolding her in his arms. He rested his head on the top of hers.
“We’ll follow up with your doctor’s orders, Ivone. But there will come a time when we’ll have a discussion about withholding. And I might not be inclined to honor your safe word. Are we clear?”
Ivone nodded and finally found her voice. “Very clear, Jamison. And honey, I’m sorry I misjudged you, that I didn’t give you more credit. You don’t need me to protect you, at least not all of the time. I do love you, with all my heart, and you deserved to know.” She tipped her head up to look at him. “I obviously have much more to learn than you do.”
“We’ll keep teaching one another.”
Jamison claimed her lips with his, and any misgivings were swept away before the tide of love and trust between them. This, then, was the right thing and to hell with the voice of reason.
Epilogue
Ivone lay stretched over the spanking bench, her pussy clenching in anticipation. This night had been a long time coming. The laparoscopic surgery had been uncomfortable, and she thought that her insides might have been scraped and drawn like plaster on a wall, but her doctor was satisfied that most of the masses were gone, and the adhesions freed. The surgery took place after the drug therapy. Now that hadn’t been a cakewalk. Ivone had spent several nights sleeping alone in her room, despite Jamison’s entreaties. Such were the mood swings from the male hormone-based drug that she had been afraid that she might strangle him in his sleep on any pretext. She’d gained weight and privately inspected her body for telltale signs of beard growth. On one memorable occasion, she had slammed her water glass down so hard that it shattered, eliciting shocked glances from John and Joyce and an assessing one from Jamison. Ivone had really wanted to throw it squarely at Jamison’s head simply because he had made a comment about her refusing to eat vegetables. It had actually been kind of amusing, in retrospect. Ivone wondered if he had been concerned that she was going to challenge his supremacy in the household. Lord knew she had felt capable of it!
However, the symptoms eased once she’d reached the end of the treatment, and the surgery had been more of an afterthought. There was even a carefully offered medical opinion that the odds of her conceiving had improved. Jamison clearly didn’t care. He had never wavered in his steadfast love and support, overcoming his abhorrence of anything medical. He had even gone to see a doctor for a physical and committed to seeing him on a regular basis. Ivone had held onto that throughout the whole time under the doctor’s care, clutched it like a lifeline. At the back of her mind, she knew that in selling Jamison short, in not sharing her diagnosis with him, she had both hurt him and challenged his authority. Not that he had ever mentioned it again until today, now that she was totally healed. Now it was time to pay the piper, and Ivone welcomed it. Jamison could let go of his hurt, reestablish his dominance, and Ivone would be purged of her guilt.
“Are you ready, sub?” Jamison’s deep voice was full of dark promise.
“I am, Master.”
“You will count the strokes, sub.”
The first blow on her buttocks was an indicator of what was to follow. It had been a long time for Ivone, and the smack stung like fury. She flinched and sucked in air.
“One.”
The next nine came hard on the heels of each count, and then Jamison rubbed his big calloused hand over her, making the burn spread. Ivone tried to focus.
“Those ten were for withholding, sub. The next are for your presumption, and for not trusting me to accept you regardless, and for not believing I cared about you enough. They will be at my discretion. No safe word.”
Ivone wouldn’t have used it anyway. They both needed this. She deserved it. She relaxed and he began.
She next became vaguely aware of lying facedown on the bed, cool lotion being applied to what were very sore buttocks. Ivone could feel the tears drying on her face, and she was absolutely emotionally drained. She had no idea how long she had been off in her head, but Jamison had been patient. He stretched out beside her and touched her cheek. He looked at peace, and the love in his eyes shone back at her like a beacon. Ivone managed a smile, and he reached for her left hand. She felt him slip a cool circlet over her ring finger and Ivone nearly laughed, despite her languor. It was so typical of Jamison to simply indicate his intent of marrying her, not asking her, just declaring it. This time she was content to accept his arrogance for he was correct in his presumptiveness, and he would have chosen the ring with taste and care to please her.
He maneuvered her up on her side, pulling her to him, hitching her thigh over his hip. His cock found her opening with ease and pushed inside. He filled her, completed her, and they rocked together for a long time as Ivone gently ran her thumb over the raised stone in her engagement ring, another symbol of Jamison’s love for her. He finally reached between them to where they were joined and stroked her clit. Ivone shuddered in a gentle release and felt
him come as she quivered around his cock, his hot ejaculate bathing her womb.
“Love you, Ivone.”
Ivone smiled. This wasn’t a competition. It wasn’t about taking a risk any longer. She knew Jamison saw and felt the love in her heart. But he had said it first. “Love you, too, Jamison.”
THE END
www.allysonyoung.com
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Allyson Young lives in cottage country in Manitoba, Canada with her husband of many years and numerous pets. She worked in the human services all across Canada and has seen the best and worst of what people bring to the table. Allyson has written for years, mostly short stories and poetry, published in small newspapers and the like, although her work appeared in her high school yearbooks too! After reading an erotic romance, quite by accident, she decided to try her hand at penning erotica.
Allyson will write until whatever she has inside her is satisfied- when all the heroes man up and all the heroines get what they deserve. Love isn’t always sweet, and Allyson favours the dark side of romance.
Also by Allyson Young
Ménage Amour: The Promise
Ménage and More: Forgiveness
Ménage Amour: Running to Love 1: Away
Siren Allure: Running to Love 2: Broken
Siren Classic: Club Pleasure 1: Wishes
Siren Allure: Club Pleasure 2: Madness
Ménage Amour: Aspire 1: Near Perfection
Ménage Amour: Aspire 2: True Perfection
Available at
BOOKSTRAND.COM
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
Reason [Club Pleasure 3] (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 8