Come Back to Me (Bound to You Book 2)

by Jane Henry

  She thought for a moment. “Nothing I need to do, not right away, but I did want to head over to the Regional to exchange those sneakers I ordered. Nothing urgent, though.” She'd ordered sneakers for the gym, but when they'd arrived, they'd been too tight. She wanted to go to the store at the Regional Mall to try them on herself. “I had a recipe for a roast I wanted to try, and I just wanted to do some reading.”

  He nodded. “We'll head to the Regional when you finish chatting. I'll buy you lunch. This will be good, because it will give me a chance to see how well you obey me in public.”

  Her heart thumped. What did that mean? What would he demand of her?

  “Talk, Meredith,” he commanded.

  She swallowed, wiping her hands on her lap. “That all sounds great. Really,” she said. “It's just a lot to take in at once. And I… kind of wonder…” her voice trailed off, as words failed her.

  He raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”

  She paused. What was bothering her? It came to her all at once, and she hesitated to verbalize her fear, but his eyes were beginning to narrow. She took a deep breath.

  “I wonder how much of this you'll continue on Monday,” she said in a rushed whisper.

  “Fair enough,” he said. He gave her a long, steady look, as if he were dwelling on something before he spoke. He surprised her by pushing away from the table and gesturing for her to come over to him. She stood tentatively, unsure of what he expected of her, but when she stood in front of him, he looped a hand around her waist and pulled her onto his lap. He positioned her so that her legs dangled over the side, and he held her close, cradling her up against him. She didn't fight it. She did worry about squashing him, but she pushed her insecurity aside and let herself enjoy being held. She merely allowed herself to relax against him. It felt good to be held. She felt the warmth of his body pressed up against her cheek, and his strong hands around her waist. She nestled her head in the crook of his neck. She felt the warmth of his lips and the prickle of his beard as he held her close, and kissed her forehead.

  “You're growing, bonita,” he murmured, and she felt the rumble of his deep voice gliding over her like thunder. She snuggled in closer. “You didn't protest. You're not even tensing as I hold you. You're allowing me to hold you. This means something to me.”

  She felt a sudden rise of emotions, and she swallowed against them, as he continued.

  “You're learning to let go of control,” he said, the deep timbre of his voice vibrating down the length of her body. “You still have doubts, and you should. But you're learning how to decipher those feelings inside.” His finger traveled to her chest, pointing. “You're learning to trust those feelings, to sort through them, and bring them to me. That means more to me than anything, that you trust me with that. Even more than your willingness to allow me to discipline you.” His hands clasped around her again, cradling her against him.

  She felt a tingle in her chest at his mention of discipline.

  “I don't like punishing you. But you have the strength to submit to me. It takes great strength, baby, to give me authority over you. Do you know that?”

  She paused.

  Did she know that?

  “I think so,” she whispered.

  He trailed a finger across her jawline.

  “When you lie across my lap, it means that you trust me,” he murmured.

  She swallowed. When you lie across my lap.

  “And I want you to know, baby. So far, I've had to only punish you a handful of times. But the day may come that I'll have to give you a much harsher punishment. Winston says it's inevitable. And when I do, we'll get through it, but you need to continue to learn to trust me.”

  Shit.

  “It's partly why I'm going to be taking you over my knee regularly. You need to learn to accept my spanking you.”

  She squirmed, partly from fear, but partly because she was so turned on.

  How could she have been married to him for so long, and forgotten how strong he was? How could she have fallen asleep next to him at night and never realized the depth of his love for her, how cherished and precious she was to him? How could she have forgotten the way his deep voice and firm touch thrilled her, like tongues of flame licking at a log in a fire, slowly at first, then more persistent, growing, heating, smoldering, until heat flared and the flames ignited? It was as if he'd been there all along, Paolo her dominant, hidden from her, and now he'd dropped the mask and revealed her true lover.

  Did he feel the same about her? Or had he felt this all along?

  “What's on your mind? Tell me what you're thinking, baby,” he urged.

  “I wonder if you feel like I do?” she whispered. “You're so… hot,” she said with a catch in her voice, as she fought the desire to bury her head in his chest and hide. “Have you always felt… as attracted to me, like I am to you right now?”

  The rumble of his laugh shook her.

  “I take you over my knee, and suddenly I'm hot?” he laughed.

  “Um, yeah,” she said, fighting back the duh that threatened to spill, that she feared would put her exactly back in that position over his knee. “And you didn't answer my question,” she teased.

  He chuckled. “You've always been beautiful to me, Meredith,” he said frankly. “But you've held yourself back from me. I think in the busyness of our lives, we allowed a distance to grow without even realizing we did. Revealing all of you to me makes you irresistible.”

  He leaned forward, kissed her temple, and she closed her eyes. His warm breath trailed along the edge of her cheek, as her head fell back and his mouth traveled the length of her jaw. Her chest rose and fell as his kisses grew more passionate, heated, and her mouth grew dry as she felt her body give way to his commanding touch. His mouth crushed on hers, and she moaned. She wanted him, all of him, and she rose instinctively up to meet his mouth, but he pulled away.

  “Not now,” he murmured, and she wondered if he was speaking to her, or to himself. “Many of the plans I have for you will take you to the bedroom, but now is not the time,” he said. She swallowed, lifted her head, and nestled in back in the crook of his neck.

  “What do you want me to do?” she whispered.

  “Don't ask me what I want you to do,” he groaned. “We don't have time.”

  She laughed out loud, as he rolled her closer to his chest and landed a sharp swat. Still sore from the spanking he'd given her, she yelped, as he righted her.

  “Go,” he said, pointing to the other room where her computer waited, his eyes twinkling. “I'm watching the clock now.”

  Her eyes widened as she stood in front of him, the gentleness wiped from his features, nothing now but stern instruction.

  “Yes, Sir,” she said, as she turned to go.

  “Meredith,” he said.

  She turned and raised her eyebrows. “Yes?”

  “Thirty, babe, or I take you across my knee."

  Her knees grew weak, she didn't know from fear or arousal, but she managed to nod just the same. “You've got it… Sir,” she tacked on.

  She trotted to the living room, scurrying away from the narrow-eyed smirk he was giving her that made her squirm.

  Chapter Seven

  Meredith pulled out her laptop and turned it on, glancing at the time. It was 9:16.

  Geez, how early had he woken her?

  She needed to log off by 9:46. She'd make it 9:45, just to be safe. She would put an alarm on her phone so that—suddenly she sat up straighter as she remembered.

  That would not be possible. She couldn't put an alarm on her phone, because Paolo had her phone. She pursed her lips. Fine, then. She'd have to do things the old-fashioned way. Shoving down the irritation she felt, she pulled up the forum, and glanced to see if she had any messages from Little Lady. Nothing. Her eyes flew to the “messages from last log on” option, and she was tempted to see if Paolo had posted anything recently.

  No snooping.

  She forced herself to ignore the latest
posts, and go to the chat box in the upper corner. Still, no Little Lady. She sighed. Maybe, given her stricter time allotments, she'd have to arrange for a time when she could chat with Little Lady. She browsed the forums, and found herself drawn to a post on collars.

  I think they're disgusting. It reminds me of something a dog would wear and just because I submit to my husband doesn't mean I'm his property. I hate that people wear them. They're humiliating.

  Meredith raised her eyebrows in surprise. Certainly, some of the collars she'd seen were not her personal taste, and she didn't really understand why anyone would want to wear those. But it wasn't because she thought they were humiliating or because she thought they indicated ownership, like one would own a pet. She thought some of them were just not her style. And some collars she'd seen were beautiful.

  Her eyes lit up when she saw Little Lady's response.

  I can understand why one would object to collaring, but I think the reasons behind most objections are rooted in misunderstanding. Collars do indicate a form of ownership, yes, but not as one owns property. It's a completely different kind of ownership. It indicates being submitted to the one who cherishes you. It's not an ownership that limits freedom, but instead, indicates that you are valuable above all others. It's a mark, a physical reminder of your agreement to be submitted to your dominant, because he alone can make you whole. I love my physical reminder that I am obedient to Master Winston.

  Meredith smiled. God, she loved that woman.

  She had no idea Little Lady was collared. Gosh.

  Meredith swallowed.

  She wanted one.

  What would Paolo say? He had not responded to the comments about collaring. She wondered what he thought. Would he object, like so many others did? Would he find it weird, or disordered, or just completely outside his comfort zone? She went to the search box in the upper corner and typed in collar. Her eyes widened as thread after thread came up. She hardly knew where to begin. As she read, becoming fully immersed in the discussions, she lost track of time.

  She heard Paolo moving in the kitchen, and with a jolt, she realized she hadn't checked the time. 9:40. She breathed a sigh of relief. She had a few minutes to spare. As she glanced at the clock, she saw a little message pop up on her screen.

  Little Lady: Bonita! Are you still here?

  Meredith grinned.

  Meredith: I am! I'm dying to talk to you, but I only have a few minutes left. Things have changed, and there's much I'd love to discuss with you.

  Little Lady: You're on a timer? Things *have* changed. Ah. Well type fast! Lol

  Meredith: Paolo has decided this weekend will be a training session. He's working me hard. It's… scary… and amazing, all at once. In a few minutes, he'll be taking me to the Regional to pick up a few things, and he says he's testing my obedience in public. I'm nervous!

  Little Lady: Please be careful, my friend. You mean Mr. Brookstone?

  Meredith went cold.

  Meredith: Oh my gosh. I can't believe I just did that. Oh, gosh, he won't be happy. :(

  Little Lady: It was an honest mistake, and you can assure him he can trust me. I'll even ask Master Winston to write to him, if it'll reassure him. It's because you're rushed, Bonita, and you need to maintain your focus. Slow down. We will have time to chat when there is more time to do so. Be honest with him about your mistake. He may punish you, but it's better to train yourself to bring everything to him, so he can determine how best to proceed.

  Meredith sighed.

  Meredith: I will. You're right.

  Little Lady: So this weekend is a training weekend?

  Meredith: Yes.

  Little Lady: And you feel excited but nervous?

  Meredith: I do. He's been… very different… but, I like it. I really do.

  Little Lady: You like that his full attention is on you. Meredith swallowed.

  Meredith: I do.

  Little Lady: If I could give you just a bit of a cautionary word, my friend, be prepared for a withdrawal from him. And please, don't go over your time on my account.

  Withdrawal? Meredith yearned to ask her friend to explain more, but she glanced at the clock. She only had two minutes left.

  Meredith: I only have two minutes left. What do you mean 'withdrawal'?

  Little Lady: It takes a great deal of focus and energy to dom. After times of intensity, it's not uncommon for a dom to need some time and space to recharge. Master Winston frequently goes to play a round of golf, or he'll retreat to our office and do some reading.

  Meredith: I didn't know that. I assumed he was always in charge, and always in control.

  Little Lady: He is, my friend. Withdrawal doesn't imply a lack of control. It's merely a way they regroup so they are better able to meet our needs. Try to view it that way, instead of taking it personally, when it happens.

  Meredith: If it happens, I will.

  She wasn't sure the warning was necessary.

  Little Lady: Fair enough. Go, now, before your time is up. And tell him about the name mistake.

  Meredith scowled at the screen. This wasn't how she wanted to end the conversation—on a warning of a dismal time to come, and an admonition to go and confess. Still, she appreciated her friend's concern.

  Meredith: All right. Bye.

  Little Lady: Good bye, sweetie.

  Meredith closed the laptop and glanced at the clock. 9:45. Phew. As she began mulling over the conversation she'd just had with Little Lady, she started when she saw the shadow of Paolo waiting for her in the doorway.

  “Well done,” he said. “Not much time to spare, but you managed to obey me. Were you able to chat with Little Lady?”

  Meredith squirmed. “Well, she wasn't on until I was about ready to go.”

  She thought of the name slip-up. She'd have to tell him.

  What if she decided not to?

  But no, that wouldn't work, even if she wanted it to, and she didn't. He'd go back and read the conversation anyway, even if she did decide to be dishonest. With a start, she realized he asked her another question, as he was wheeling himself in the room toward her.

  “Did you spend some time reading before she joined you?”

  Still focusing on the fact that she had to confess, her stomach tied in a series of knots, her thoughts were elsewhere.

  “Oh, I just read all over the forum,” she murmured vaguely. He was in front of her now.

  “Your focus is off,” Paolo said, frowning. “And you're not meeting my eyes. Is there something you need to tell me? I want you to have a chance to, before I take your laptop and see what it was you were reading on the forum, and what it was you were discussing.”

  Damn.

  “I was reading about collars,” she blurted. His eyebrows raised.

  “Come again?”

  “Collars,” she mumbled, eyes shifting downward.

  “Look at me.”

  Her eyes flew to his. She twisted her hands in her lap.

  “And that's something you feel you need to hide from me?” he queried, giving her a piercing look.

  She shook her head. “No. No, it's not really like that,” she said. “I'm just not entirely sure myself, yet, how I feel about them, and I'm still figuring it all out. It kind of appeals to me, and I was afraid if I told you, you'd think I… that you'd…” her voice trailed off, at the words that came to her mind that she didn't want to say out loud.

  “Spill it,” he ordered.

  “Think I'm a freak,” she whispered.

  He nodded, looking surprisingly unfazed. “I don't think you're a freak. So put that out of your mind, and I don't ever want to hear you say that again. I do, however, have concerns with collars, and I'm not going there. I don't own you. You're not my property. You're my wife, and you submit to me of your own free will.”

  “I know that,” she whispered, as disappointment crept over her. “And it's… I don't know if it's really like that,” she said.

  He pursed his lips. “It doesn't appe
al to me at all. I don't like that idea. And I don't want you to bring it up to me again. It's off the table. Understand?”

  She nodded. Her heart pounded as she fought to quell her rising anger at him. Just like that? I don't like it and don't bring it up again? Did he even care to find out how she felt about it? Had it ever occurred to him? But no, it was okay to just shut her down like that? Maybe Little Lady was right. Maybe he was retreating, and pulling back.

  “Why are your arms folded across your chest?” he asked sternly.

  She raised her eyebrows and looked down. She hadn't realized they were.

  “I dunno,” she mumbled. His eyes narrowed. “Fine!” she spat out.

  “Watch the tone,” he clipped.

  She took a deep breath. He wasn't exactly making it easy to speak respectfully. She wanted to yell. She wanted to stomp out of the room. She didn't want to sit here, under his piercing gaze, listening to him order her around. She drew in another breath, focusing on the intake of breath filling her lungs, then exhaled, trying to quell her anger.

  “Unfold your hands, Meredith,” he said in a voice much softer than she expected. Confused, she obeyed. Why was he telling her to unfold her hands? He sat in front of her, his eyes still piercing her, but they weren't angry or judgmental. He looked as if he were in complete control of his own emotions, and he was trying to extend the same self control to her. “Now put your hands on your lap, uncurled, palms flat down.”

  She obeyed, and as she watched him, she felt the anger begin to seep out of her. She felt mostly curiosity now, as she watched him. He moved his chair closer to the couch, shifted himself over, and sat down next to her.

  “Now get up from the couch, kneel by me, and put your head in my lap.”

  She paused. She didn't want to disobey him—how far could she push her hesitancy?—but at the same time, she was in no mood to kneel and put her head in his lap. She was hurt. And he was fucking bossy.

  “Now.”

  With the sudden realization that she was moments from pushing it too far and ending up over his knee, she fell to the floor, jaw still clenched, as she knelt before him and put her head in his lap. He put his hand to her head and combed the hair with his fingers. She felt his warm lap against her cheek, and the strong roughness of his hand as it combed through her hair. Why was she angry again? She felt calmer. She took in another breath.