by Lund, S. E.
I turned to Claire. "Did you call Michael and tell him we were going out?"
She made a face of surprise. "Oh, damn. I forgot all about it." Then, she took out her phone and shrugged, a sad expression on her face. "Michael called and I must have had my phone on mute. He and Drake finished early."
I texted Drake right away.
I'm sorry. Claire and I went to a faculty art exhibit at the Institute for Art. We're out with a group from the function for dinner. Our meal is almost finished so as soon as we're done, I'll get Claire to drop me off. So sorry I missed your texts and phone calls but my cell died. I can't wait to see you and see what you have planned…
"I'd really like to get back," I said to her, my voice almost a whisper. "Drake had no idea where I was. Michael didn't tell him where we were."
She made a face. "Drake's a big boy, Kate. He'll be fine. Have a cup of tea."
"You said you'd call Michael and get him to tell Drake where we were. He spent the evening worrying about me."
"I forgot," she said, waving a hand in dismissal. "He's a grown man. He'll get over it." She poured me a cup and I wanted to scold her but of course, didn't want to cause friction between us for Drake's sake. I sighed and gave in. I added some milk and sugar to my cup, resigned to wait a bit longer before we could leave.
During a break in the conversation, Claire leaned over to me.
"Show Sefton a picture of one of your paintings."
As the waiters took our dessert orders, I pulled up my images and selected the one of Drake on the bed, before passing the phone to Claire, who looked at it and made a face of surprise.
"Oh, it's Drake nude. Tastefully done, mind you. Very nice." She glanced up at me and smiled, before passing the phone directly to Sefton, who examined it closely. He smiled softly, and looked up, catching my eye.
"Technically, very skilled. Nice feel to the piece – warm. So that's the fiancé? How big is it?" he said, raising his eyebrows.
"How big is what?" I said, frowning. What did he mean? Was he being suggestive?
"The canvas, of course."
My cheeks heated. "Nine by six."
"Quite big," he said and smiled. For a moment, I thought I saw his tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek.
If he was asking how big it was, there was no way he saw us having sex in a public room at the dungeon. I relaxed a bit. Perhaps he only saw me at the party. Perhaps Drake didn't take me into one of the public rooms after all…
He passed my phone to the next person and so my phone made the rounds, everyone looking with interest at my art. My cheeks were blazing hot from the innuendo he made, and from the attention, but I was proud of the painting. It was beautiful, with the light making Drake's fair skin look luminous. I wish I had an image of the full nude to show Sefton, so he'd know how big Drake was. Then, I felt a bit foolish. That would bring me down to his level.
We finished our dessert and I felt restless, but Claire seemed in no rush to leave. I checked my cell but there was no message from Drake. I hoped he wasn’t mad.
Finally, we paid our bill and people began to leave. As I was walking from the room, Sefton caught up with me and stood close to me. Too close.
"Glad to know what the competition is," Sefton said, a sly grin on his mouth.
"What do you mean by that?" I said, frowning.
"Oh," he said and made a face of mock guilt. "I mean competition in the art world, of course. What else could I possibly mean?"
I forced a smile. "Nothing."
"I hope you're able to join my class. That is, unless your fiancé has you all tied up."
I said nothing in reply. He was obviously referring to bondage. It had to be. When I turned to the door, he was right there, holding it open for me. His face was unreadable. There was no amusement in his eyes. He looked calm.
Dammit.
I was even more convinced that I shouldn't take a studio class from him.
"You're very talented, Kate," he said. "I'd be honored to have you as a student. Seriously, you're good. It's nice to surround yourself with talented people. They inspire you to improve."
"I'll consider it." Of course, I had no intention of taking his class.
"Please do."
And then, he went to a woman I met earlier, an African woman named Niara who was beautiful with long braids and a colorful dress. He put his arm over her shoulder and they left the restaurant together.
"That's a surprise," Claire said to me as we left the restaurant behind them. "He's usually not that demonstrative with Niara."
"They're together?"
"Oh, yes. They've been seeing each other quietly for several months since he arrived in September of last year but he's not monogamous. Quite the lothario. A bit like Drake used to be."
I frowned. Drake the Rake is what she and Michael had called Drake when we first arrived in Nairobi. Still, it was impolite to refer to it, even jokingly.
I left the restaurant, exhaling with relief.
I couldn't wait to get back to the hotel and Drake.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Claire dropped me off at the front entrance to the hotel and I made my way to our room. I was glad to see Drake, though I felt guilty that I hadn't been there waiting for him, especially considering how much I'd missed him all week.
He was sitting in the darkened living room, facing the patio doors when I entered.
"There you are," I said, coming around to stand in front of him. He was dressed in a hotel bathrobe, and had probably had a shower after coming home from work.
"I wish you'd texted me that you were going out with Claire," he said, his voice soft, with a note of impatience in it. "I was worried something happened to you."
"I'm sorry," I said. "Claire was supposed to phone Michael. He was supposed to tell you."
"You could have texted me."
I shrugged. "My phone's battery was dead because I forgot to charge it. We let it charge in Claire's car. Then I forgot…"
He didn’t say anything for a moment, his gaze moving over my body, my clothes.
"So you went out to the Institute? You're out pretty late."
"I told you we went for dinner after. I thought we'd be back before you and Michael got finished at the hospital."
He nodded. "You look lovely."
"Thank you," I said and turned in a circle, holding out the skirt of my dress. "I wish you could have been there with us. Claire's fun, but she's quite a social butterfly so I spent a lot of time alone, looking at pictures by myself. But at the dinner, I did show some of the faculty my painting of you and got a few nice comments."
"Which picture of me? Not the full-frontal…"
"No," I said and sat on the couch beside him, leaning in close. "The more respectable one. I wouldn't want to make the male faculty jealous or the female faculty interested."
He laughed softly, but then was silent for a moment. His gaze moved over my face, and he brushed a strand of hair back, then touched my collar.
"I was upset that you were gone when I got back here. I was really looking forward to seeing you."
I sighed. "Drake, I'm so sorry. I thought Michael was going to tell you I was out with Claire. I thought you two would be really late. Besides," I said, remembering what Claire had said earlier. "I have to make a life for myself while you're busy at work."
"I want you to have your own life," Drake said. "But how would you feel if the tables were turned and it was me who never called or texted you when I was going to be late? If you waited for hours to hear from me?"
"It was thoughtless of me. I was a bit intimidated by Claire. She has this way…"
"When I'm free, I want you to be here. I don't want to wonder where you are. When I want you, I don't want to have to wait while you're out partying with people I don't even know."
"Drake…" I shook my head, wanting to reassure him that it was nothing. "It won't happen again. I'll make sure to send you a text if I'm going anywhere from now on so you'll know. My phone…"
He nodded and brushed his fingers over the tops of my breasts. "I feel like I should punish you," he said, his voice soft.
I bit my lip. I didn't like that idea. I thought I had things covered with Claire calling Michael.
"It wasn't my fault that Claire forgot to call Michael…"
"You could have called using the hotel phone and left a voicemail. Or used your laptop before you left the room. You could have called me as soon as your phone was charged."
I exhaled. He was right. I could have done any one of those. "Claire called and I was rushed…"
"It would have saved me worrying. I had these images of you having been abducted, raped, or in a car accident somewhere on the Mombasso road."
"I'm sorry," I said and cupped his cheek, leaning in to kiss him. He didn't kiss me back. "I didn't even want to go, but Claire has this way about her."
He nodded, his eyes half-hooded. "Sometimes, your submissive side extends beyond sex."
I sighed. "With really dominant people, yes. Sometimes it does."
"Maybe I should exert more control outside the bedroom."
I shook my head. "No," I said, the thought upsetting me. "I don't want that. You don't want that."
"I want us to work as a couple," Drake said, his voice still soft, so in control. "Maybe you need me to take more control. Especially in a new place where nothing's familiar."
I stood up, feeling a strong need to change the subject and mood. I didn't like the way the conversation was going. TPE scared the hell out of me.
"I don't want TPE." I went to the patio doors and glanced out at the sky. Drake stayed on the couch.
"Our relationship can be anything we want it to be. It doesn't have to be total. It could be partial power exchange, in some situations and settings. Or only in the bedroom. It's whatever makes us both happiest. Maybe you need me to be more in control. Not totally, but more. I feel like you should have thought about me first when you decided to go out. You should have called me. Left a message. Even if you'd left a damn post-it note on the mirror, I wouldn't have been so upset."
I felt so confused, so upset at the thought of yielding more control to Drake. But at the same time, if I was honest, there was this tiny part of me that thrilled at the thought of Drake taking more control with me. I squashed it down. I couldn't be that kind of woman. I had most of a Master's degree in Journalism from Columbia University. I had non-fiction articles published in the school's student newspaper. I was an artist.
I wasn't one of those women…
The kind of woman who wanted their lover to be in control at all times, who decided everything for them.
"I am not O," I said, my voice firm.
He shook his head. "Of course you're not O. You're Katherine Marie McDermott. Very complicated, passionate, talented. You're also turned on by sexual submission to a dominant man. You need it to feel safe and free. You need a strong dominant man who frees you to feel whatever you can without judgment. I won't judge you, no matter how much control you need to feel from me."
"You always said you didn't want a submissive woman. You want a woman who submits in the bedroom."
He exhaled. "I want you, Kate. Whatever you need." He stood up finally and came to my side, standing close to me. He touched my hair, ran his hand over it and down my back. "I want," he said and pressed against the small of my back, pulling me against him. "I want you. You need D/s. Tell me it wouldn't make you feel insecure to top me."
I sighed. I tried to imagine ordering Drake around. I tried to think of him being submissive while I took the lead. It felt wrong.
"Am I right?"
I nodded but I didn't say anything. I thought we were coming to a place of comfort, with the degree of D/s between us about right. He always took control and the lead. I wanted him to take control. I liked going into subspace when I was tied up and helpless. I also liked the spontaneous sex we had without bondage or blindfolds.
"I thought we were doing really well. I thought you were getting what you want from the relationship."
"Kate, this is what drives me," he said and took my face in his hands. "I want to give you as much dominance and control as you need to be happy. I want to be the man who fulfills you, whatever that means. If you need me to take more control, I will. Gladly." He stroked my cheek with a thumb, his eyes on mine. "Tell me what you need, Kate. I'll give it to you exactly the way you want it."
I inhaled, my breath shaky. "I don't know what I need. I only know I want you."
"You have me. But I don't feel as if I have you yet. Not completely."
"You do have me. I love you."
"If I had you completely, you would have done everything you could have to let me know you'd be out. You would have thought of me first, and left a note, left a voice mail. You would have called as soon as your phone was charged. Instead, you had excuses for why you didn’t."
I felt like screaming. "I didn't even want to go out, but I did because Claire said I had to make my own life apart from you. That you’d be away so much that I'd become sad and feel neglected if I didn't. I went out with her because I felt I had to."
Drake left my side and went to the bar fridge in the kitchen area. He took out a small bottle of bourbon and poured the contents into a glass. Then, he went back to the sofa and sat on it, his feet up on the coffee table. I followed him and stood beside him, waiting for him to say something.
He said nothing for several moments, sipping on his drink.
"Say something."
Finally, he spoke, his voice controlled. "What should I say, Kate?"
"How are you feeling?"
He shot back the bourbon and placed the glass carefully on the coffee table.
"I'm upset," he said, his voice low, controlled. Matter-of-fact. "I'm upset that you went somewhere without telling me yourself. That you didn't make the effort. I'm upset that this whole evening has gone to shit and I was looking forward to spending it making you come several times."
That sent a pang of guilt through me and I didn't know how to respond. I merely stood there, waiting.
"Don't be mad at me," I said finally, still feeling a need to defend myself. "Me not leaving a note was thoughtless, but Claire was outside and I didn't want to keep her waiting. Then she forgot to tell Michael…"
When I said it, something nagged at me. Did she forget? Or did she not tell Michael on purpose? I pushed that thought out of my mind. It was far too Machiavellian.
I exhaled, frustrated that he was making more of this than it really deserved. "I guess we have to agree to disagree, then."
"I guess we do, but I still think I should punish you."
"No," I said, anger bubbling up inside of me. "Our power exchange only extends to the bedroom and I haven't agreed to change it. This has nothing to do with our sex life."
"It does have something to do with our sex life," he said, his voice a bit louder. "I wanted to fuck you senseless, Katherine." He stood up and faced me, his expression stony. "I'm not fucking you senseless, am I?"
"You could if you weren't so mad over nothing."
Then he pulled me against his body, one hand tangling in my hair, gripping it, pulling my mouth against his, his lips pressing mine open, his tongue finding mine, sucking it into his mouth possessively. With the other hand, he hiked up the hem of my dress, his fingers sliding up my thigh to my buttock, squeezing it, pulling me against his hips, his erection hard against my belly.
I moaned into his mouth as his fingers slipped around and under my panties, unerringly finding my clit, which throbbed with need. I felt instantly wet, my body swelling, preparing for him. I wanted him inside of me, thrusting hard and fast. He must have wanted the same thing, for he turned me around and pushed me down so that I leaned against the back of the sofa. He used his knee to spread my thighs, lifting the skirt of my dress, pushing it up over my back. Then, he practically ripped off my panties in his haste to remove them.
Before I could do anything, he was inside of me, his cock th
ick and hard. Then he lay over me, his face by mine, his cheek pressed against mine. He was breathing hard, his fingers stroking my clit. I groaned and moved against him, wanting him to start thrusting.
"I'm going to fuck you, Katherine, and you're not going to come, do you understand?"
"Then why are you touching me?" I said, my body clenching around his hardness, straining for sensation. "I need to come."
"I like to touch you. You do need to come," he said, his tone dark. "Your clit is nice and hard, and you're so wet. But you're not going to come, Katherine. I'm going to punish you for not contacting me yourself so I'd know where you were. I'm going to fuck you until I come inside of you and then, I'm going to deny you release."
I said nothing, for I was so ready, so close that I knew I'd come very quickly, with barely any need for him to even touch me.
He removed his fingers from my clit and began to thrust, hard and fast, the fingers on one hand biting into my hip so that it hurt a bit, the fingers on his other hand tweaking one nipple. All those sensations together pushed me even closer to the edge and I moved back against him each time he thrust.
"You're not going to let yourself come, Katherine, do you understand?"
I said nothing, meeting his every thrust with my body, tightening my muscles around him. He groaned, inhaling sharply.
"Don't let yourself come," he said again, his voice shaky. He was close. I could tell he was as close as I was. I didn't agree with his desire to punish me, so I did nothing to prevent my enjoyment of what he was doing. Soon, I felt the pleasure build in my body, deep in my groin, and I moaned.
"Don't come," he said, barely able to speak.
"I can't stop…"
Then, pleasure erupted through me and I went over the top, my body convulsing around his cock as he thrust all the harder, desperate for his own release. Soon, I felt him tense against my body as his orgasm began, ramming himself into me, grunting with each ejaculation.
He leaned over on top of me as both of us recovered, our bodies remaining together, my arms on the back of the couch, his on either side of them. His face was next to mine, his breath coming in short gasps. I heard him lick his lips and wondered what he'd do now that I'd disobeyed his order not to come.