Her mind raced, remembering every second of that hot-as-hell kiss she’d shared with Sir. Something had shifted between them during those moments. He’d never kissed her like that before. In fact, he’d never kissed her on the lips before. Chaste pecks on her cheek or temple had been plentiful, and his mouth had been on her pussy many times during scenes when he was rewarding her for being a good submissive. Most people would think it was odd they’d never kissed after months of playing together, but it had been in the contract they’d signed.
She froze. The contract. They hadn’t negotiated a change in their contract. Did that mean Sir made a mistake? When he realized it, would he regret kissing her? Was he going to say it would never happen again?
Oh, God, please don’t let him say that because I really, really want to kiss him again!
Cordell tapped his fingers on the steering wheel in time to Alabama’s “Song of the South” on the satellite radio’s Prime Country channel. He’d seen them several times in concert when they’d played in Vegas over the years. They’d been one of his parents’ favorite bands, and Cordell had grown up listening to them. Any time one of their songs came on the radio, he fondly remembered his parents two-stepping around the kitchen or backyard, with his father doing a fairly good job of singing along with Randy Owen.
Glancing at the truck’s GPS display, Cordell noted they had a little less than an hour to go before they reached the hotel he’d planned to stop at for the night. Despite some earlier traffic from a three-car accident, they’d made good time and would be able to sit down at a restaurant for a nice meal instead of grabbing takeout.
Tiffany had caught a nap for about two hours after her meltdown. He wasn’t surprised she’d slept that long between the emotional drop and the steady lull of the tires on the highway. Cordell had spent that time trying to get his anger at Whitlow under control, on top of his body’s response to the kiss he and Tiffany had shared. He hadn’t planned on kissing her until after they’d had a chance to renegotiate their contract. But he hadn’t been able to resist when she’d stared at him with those big, brown eyes of hers, wet from her tears and looking so lost and needy. However, before it happened again—and it would happen again—he needed to talk with her.
Reaching over, he grasped her hand and entwined their fingers, enjoying the righteous feeling of doing so more than he expected. “About an hour to go, pet. Getting hungry?”
He smiled when her stomach responded with a growl before she could verbalize an answer. The giggle that followed had him chuckling too. “Glad to hear it because I’m getting hungry too.”
“You must be tired too, Sir. You’ve been driving all day—your hip must be hurting you.” She hesitated then said, “You know, I could drive for a few hours tomorrow and let you rest. That is if you trust me with your truck.”
He gave her hand a squeeze. “Thank you for offering. If I need a break, I’ll let you know.” Actually, his hip was killing him, but he had other things to take care of. He drove for another mile before taking the plunge. Not wanting to let go of her hand, he thumbed the volume button on the steering wheel and turned the radio down. “I enjoyed our kiss earlier, pet, and would like you to consider renegotiating our contract to add a few things to it, including more kissing among other things. Is that something you’d be interested in?”
Her eyes rounded. “Really? I mean, I-I enjoyed kissing you too, Sir. And, yes, I’d be interested in renegotiating our contract.”
“Good. Before I tell you what I’d like to add, I’d like you to fill out a new limit list. I put one in the glove box for you.”
She opened the compartment in front of her and found the folded papers he’d put in there yesterday. Letting go of her hand, he removed a spare pen from where he kept it attached to the visor above his head and held it out to her. “Here you go. Work on that for the rest of the ride and then we’ll go over it during dinner. Remember, pet, I expect full honesty. Don’t put things on your green or yellow lists because you think they’re something I want to do. Only put them down if they are something you are interested in. And don’t omit anything you’d like to add because you’re worried I might not want the same. Understood?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good girl.”
For the rest of the trip, Cordell tried his best not to pay attention to the little check marks Tiffany was making on the papers. It wasn’t easy, but, somehow, he managed to keep his eyes on the road.
Slowly, Tiffany made her way down the list of things she was willing to do, might be willing to do, or wasn’t willing to do with Sir, moving a few from one column to another, although most of them stayed unchanged. Sir’s list had been more restrictive than hers the first time they’d negotiated their terms. Sexual intercourse with penile penetration had been one of his hard limits. He’d said it had been the same for all the past submissives he’d helped recover from bad relationships. In the beginning, she’d admired his honesty and integrity about the subject, however, now, she wished he hadn’t been so strict with that rule.
As she continued to check yes, no, and maybe, she wondered which items Sir was going to move out of his hard limit category. The pen in her hand hovered over the page when she got to vaginal and anal intercourse. Even though Mitch had told her that her contract with Sir would not include sex, she’d still put those two in her “maybe” column during their initial negotiations. Should she leave them there or move them over to the “yes” column? Is that what he wanted? No, she couldn’t think that way. It had to be her choice. That was something Sir had been trying to help her improve over the months they’d been together. She had to figure out what she wanted first, and then see if Sir, or anyone else, for that matter, wanted the same thing.
Tiffany put a check mark under green limits for both forms of sex. She wanted him—especially after that hot kiss they’d shared earlier—and had for months now. If he didn’t agree, she’d deal with it, but she would at least make him aware of her desire.
Further down the list was blow jobs. That had been in her “yes” column on the initial contract, but Sir had never asked for one, even though it had been in his “maybe” column. How he’d gone without sex or blow jobs all these months, she’d never know. It was in their contract that neither of them would play or have sexual contact with someone else without the other person’s knowledge and consent.
A few more miles down the road, she’d completed the three-page list. “I’m done, Sir.”
He’d given her permission to call him Cordell in public, since the beginning, but she still wasn’t comfortable using his name. Then, again, it wasn’t often they’d gone out in public together. Most of their interactions had been either at the club or his house. When he’d been in the hospital and rehab, she’d managed to remember to refer to him by his given name when others were around—most of the time. Occasionally, though, a “Sir” had slipped out and had garnered her a few curious looks.
What Cordell still hadn’t done was give her permission to call him Master. He’d said he would only do that when they both felt he’d earned the right to be called that. At the time, Tiffany had been relieved. The title had reminded her too much of Bruce. But it had been a long while since she’d seen him. In fact, the last time she’d seen the manipulative bastard—yes, she felt strong enough now to call him that—was at the wedding Mitch had escorted her too. Tori’s Dom had apparently put the fear of God into Bruce and had threatened to make the jerk dig a hole out in the desert before burying him in it. Tiffany smiled. She really liked Mitch. And Ty too. Her cousin had lucked out, big time, with her fiancés.
The truck slowed, and Tiffany noticed they were exiting the highway. Her nerves were suddenly on edge, and she began rethinking the changes she’d made to her list. Would he be happy with them? What about the items she hadn’t changed? Would those disappoint him?
God, Tiffany, stop overthinking this!
She was surprised when they pulled up to a hotel that looked awfully expensive. W
hen she glanced at Sir, he gave her a smirk and a wink. “Mitch is paying for all the moving expenses.”
Tiffany paused a moment and then couldn’t help the giggle that burst forth. “Does that mean I get to have the Chateaubriand tonight, Sir?”
When he just stared at her, with a blank expression, Tiffany scrambled to think of what she’d said that had offended him. She’d just been kidding, but, apparently, he hadn’t realized that.
Sir shifted in his seat, turning to face her head on. “Did you just make a joke, pet?”
She blinked several times before she saw amusement in his eyes, and then the corners of his mouth pulled upward. Her giggling resumed. “I—yes, I did, Sir.”
A full belly laugh erupted from him. “Well, in that case, Chateaubriand for two is well deserved, in my opinion. Let’s go check in, and then go eat. Eastwood will be fine for a little bit. I’ll come back out for him and our bags. Don’t forget to bring your list.”
Her list. Yup, and just like that, the butterflies in her gut took flight again.
While Sir checked in at the front desk, Tiffany called her mother to say they’d arrived at their first hotel safely. She’d promised she would call her each night until they arrived at their final destination, just to ease her mother’s worry. By the time Tiffany disconnected the call, Sir had rejoined her, and then escorted her to the hotel’s elegantly decorated steakhouse. She worried they were underdressed, but a quick glance at the clientele revealed there was a broad range of attire, from suits and dresses to shorts and T-shirts.
The dining room was only half full, and Sir’s request for a quiet table away from others was granted. The table for four only had two place settings, next to each other and overlooking a beautiful, outdoor garden with lush plants, vibrant flowers, and a waterfall cascading into a koi pond. Sir pulled out Tiffany’s chair for her before taking his own seat.
After the waiter had given them their menus and rattled off the night’s specials, he took their drink order, then left to fulfill it. Cordell put his hand out. “May I have your limit list, please?”
With trembling hands, she withdrew it from her purse and gave it to him. Her heart was pounding in her chest, to the point she’d be surprised if Sir didn’t hear it. Tiffany watched him scan the pages, his expression never changing. He definitely had that cop face down pat—the one that made suspects wonder just exactly how much the police knew about their crimes. Not knowing what he was thinking or feeling was ratcheting up her nerves again, and she was grateful when the waiter returned with their drinks and a basket filled with bread and butter. She forced herself to sip, not gulp, her glass of Pinot Gris.
When Cordell placed the papers face down on the table in front of him, the waiter asked, “Are you ready to order, sir?”
“Tiffany?”
“Um . . .” She hadn’t even looked at the menu and doubted she’d be able to read it right now. Recalling one of the specials had been a salmon dish, she ordered that and the house dressing on the salad.
Looking at his own menu, Sir chuckled softly, probably figuring out her reasoning for choosing the fish dish. “They do have Chateaubriand, sweetheart. Why don’t I get that, and we’ll share, hmm?” Not waiting for an answer, he handed the menu to the waiter. “Medium rare, please, and Russian dressing on the salad.”
“Very good, sir.”
After retrieving Tiffany’s untouched menu, the waiter left them alone, and Cordell picked up her limit list and studied it again. “You’ve made a few changes, I see.”
She still couldn’t tell if those changes pleased or disappointed him, so she took a sip of her wine and quietly waited for him to say something more. Of course, Sir wasn’t in a rush to quell her anxiety. He folded the papers in half and put them to the side of his bread plate. Selecting a warm roll from the basket that’d been set on the table, he took his time buttering it. Before taking a bite out of it, he leaned to the side and pulled several folded papers out of the back pocket of his cargo shorts. Handing them to her, he said, “Here’s my new list for you to look over, pet. You’ll find several changes, but make sure you read the added items at the end on the third page. The second set of papers is an updated contract with those changes made to it.”
With a suddenly dry mouth, she read through the first two pages of his limits—sex, anal, and blowjobs had all been moved into his green column. Yes! She tried to hide the thrill coursing through her but doubted she’d masked her expression as efficiently as Sir had.
Nothing else had changed on the first two-thirds of the list that she’d noticed, so Tiffany continued to the third page. This one held the list of body-fluid play and other darker play she wasn’t into, and she was relieved to see they were all still on Sir’s hard limits. Below that section was where a Dom or sub could add on anything that wasn’t listed anywhere else. She read Sir’s handwritten entries.
1. The aforementioned submissive will wax her legs instead of shaving them from now on.
She smiled and giggled at that one, but then her heart stopped, and she froze when she read the next item.
2. The sub shall maintain birth control of her choice and advise her Dom, immediately, if there are any complications with it. Both parties will have health checkups every six months instead of the three required in the original contract.
That was okay since neither of them had been with anyone else since they’d signed their first contract and their last checkups had been clean.
3. The submissive will no longer be allowed to wear panties without her Dom’s permission.
Okaaaaaay.
4. The aforementioned submissive will sleep, naked, in her Dom’s bed every night from now on, unless unforeseen circumstances, such as travel or illness, prevent it.
Holy shit. Sleeping in his bed? All night and every night? The thought excited and terrified her at the same time. How was she supposed to keep from falling irreversibly in love with the man if she was sharing the same bed with him? She was already halfway there. But she couldn’t deny that was where she wanted to sleep each night, curled up next to him, letting him hold her and keep her warm. Letting him make love to her any time he wanted. Her heart, mind, and body were in agreement—she couldn’t say no.
Still in shock, Tiffany lifted her chin until her gaze met Sir’s. He was smiling and holding out a pen. “I’ve already signed your limit list, pet. If you agree with mine, please sign it and the attached contract with the new changes. If not, then tell me which items you’re not comfortable with, and we’ll discuss them.”
Sure enough, his signature was next to hers on the last page of her limit list on the table in front of him. Her hand was shaking almost uncontrollably when she tried to take the pen from him, but he waited until she had a good grip before letting it go. Her signature looked like chicken scratch next to his, but she managed to sign it without pressing so hard the pen tip went through the paper.
When she handed the three sheets and pen back to Sir, his eyes filled with warmth and desire. “Thank you, pet.”
“Y-you’re welcome, Sir.”
An hour later, Tiffany couldn’t say what her food had tasted like if her life depended on it. She didn’t even remember eating it, but her plate had been empty when the waiter removed it from the table. All she could think about was being in Sir’s bed . . . starting tonight.
Cordell was in pain. His dick was so hard, he wasn’t sure how it hadn’t ripped the seams of his shorts. Carrying his and Tiffany’s overnight bags in one hand, and Eastwood’s carrier in the other, he led the way down the hallway to their third-floor room—the one with a king-sized bed in it. Yes, he’d taken a huge risk by assuming Tiffany wouldn’t balk at signing the updated contract indicating she’d spend her nights in his bed, but, thankfully, she’d agreed to it. Now, he had to get his hormones and cock under control, so he didn’t attack her like a rabid animal as soon as they were behind closed doors. His sub still had things she had to deal with before he tossed off the kid gloves for good.
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After finding their room, Tiffany unlocked the door, and he gestured for her to go in before him. The room appeared clean and comfortable. Cordell set their bags down—his on a luggage rack next to the closet and Tiffany’s on the dresser—then placed the carrier on the floor and opened the door. Eastwood meowed loudly as he darted out.
Tiffany had brought up the two tote bags containing a travel-sized litter box, cat food, two small bowls, and a few toys. Within minutes, they had Eastwood set up with dinner, water, and a place to take a poop when he was done.
Cordell eyed his pretty sub standing in the middle of the room with a deer-in-the-headlights look, as if she expected him to pounce on her.
Gently taking her wrist, he pulled her to him and cupped her chin. “Relax, pet.”
He lowered his head and brushed his lips against hers but resisted the urge to do it again. “Strip while I warm up the shower for us.”
Her breath hitched as the meaning of his words penetrated her mind. He smirked. “Yes, pet, we’re going to shower together. You’re going to explore my body with your hands and mouth until I can’t take it anymore. Then I’m going to do the same to you until you beg me to fuck you. As always, you have your safeword. If you use it, I’ll find my own release. Either way, you’ll sleep next to me in that big bed completely naked. Is that understood?”
She blushed and nodded. “Y-yes, Sir.”
“Good girl. Strip and then come join me.”
After placing a chaste kiss on her forehead and then a more erotic one on her lips, Cordell left her to do as ordered. In the bathroom, he was pleased to find a large shower stall, with a tiled bench to sit on, instead of a tub. He rotated the handle to start the spray, then got rid of his clothes before testing the water temperature and adjusting as needed. Steam filled the room, and Cordell flipped a switch on the wall to activate the overhead ventilation fan. He pulled two fluffy towels out from a rack under the sink and set them on the counter. The provided shampoo, conditioner, and body wash bottles and two washcloths went on a shelf in the shower.
Master Key Resort: A Novella Page 7