by Lisa Suzanne
Dax stood at my door about thirty minutes later with sandwiches. He wore a black shirt proclaiming he was a “Rock Star.”
We ate, we laughed, we chatted, and then he helped me to bed. He handed me a painkiller, and I washed it down with the water he’d set beside my bed.
He pulled off his shirt like he’d done the night before, and I couldn’t help my look of adoration and appreciation at his fine male form.
He grinned wickedly at me, and then he stalked over toward me. He leaned down to kiss me, his lips moving softly over mine. I moved to open my mouth to his to deepen the kiss when he pulled away.
I shot him a look of disappointment, and he did his cute little manly giggle.
“I almost think I shouldn’t spend the night, but I don’t want you hobbling around here without my help in the morning.”
“You shouldn’t spend the night?” I felt the pang of insult.
He shook his head. “I’m sorry. That didn’t come out right.”
He got in my bed next to me, and he leaned up on his elbow in my direction. My eyes had this beautiful visual feast of the muscles in his chest and torso as they rippled beside me.
“What I meant to say is we both know exactly where we were headed when the ankle accident happened.” His voice was husky and musical.
He ran a finger over my lips and down my throat, stopping on my collarbone. I was silent. “It’s taking everything in my willpower not to finish what we started. I’ve had a hard-on since Friday for you, but the timing hasn’t been right.”
His voice got somehow huskier. Softer. Rougher. “And I’m not going to fuck you when you’re on painkillers. I want you to feel me. Every hard inch of me.”
I let out a soft moan at his words. If I’d felt an ache for him before, this was anguish. Torture.
He fell back to his side of the bed and threw an arm over his eyes. It was the same thing he’d done on Friday when he’d slowed things down between us.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“Don’t be,” I muttered.
“I really like you, Piper. I want this to work between us.”
“I like you, too, Dax.” I thought about telling him about my project. Part of me felt like I was deceiving him. We’d only met in the first place because of my experiment, and I wanted to tell him that.
I sort of wanted to be honest with him that I had a few more dates lined up, too.
But then the painkillers hit and lulled me into sleep.
***
My alarm woke me a little after seven. It was usually enough time for me to shower and get to Stats at eight, but that was when I had two working ankles and when I didn’t need to figure out what the hell to wear after class to my meeting with Mr. Greene.
Beautiful Dax slept beside me in my bed, and I couldn’t help my smile. Or my stare.
I nudged him. He grumbled something and rolled over. I left him alone while I hobbled out of bed. The brace seemed to help, and that morning I could actually walk on my ankle as long as the brace was really, really tight. It still didn’t feel good, but at least I’d be able to make it through my meeting with Mr. Greene without the crutches. I hoped.
I showered, put on my make-up, and dried my hair. I even curled it a little. I wore jeans and a t-shirt for now. I’d have some time after Stats to get dressed for my meeting.
Dax was still asleep, so I left him a note on my counter.
I decided to drive myself to class. I parked in front of the Psych building, my ankle shooting pain up my leg the entire drive. I’d have to deal with it, though, because I didn’t have a ride to Greene Apps. I certainly couldn’t ask Dax, and I no longer felt comfortable asking Scott, the only friend I’d see that morning in class before my meeting.
I used my crutches to stay off of my ankle as much as possible, and when I walked into Stats, Scott was already there. He flipped through the textbook, reviewing our assigned readings for the week. I probably should’ve done that, too. I was starting to wonder if he was still willing to be my personal tutor.
I took my seat next to him and spoke tentatively. “Good morning, Scott.”
He pressed his lips together in one of those smiles you reserved for strangers, not looking up from his book. “Hey.”
“You doing okay?” I asked.
He nodded.
“How’s your ankle?” he asked, still flipping pages.
“Starting to feel a little better.”
He nodded. “Good.”
He was still treating me like I wasn’t even a friend. Like I was an acquaintance. And that pained me.
He had to have sensed I started feeling things for him I shouldn’t. He wasn’t purposely hurting me or ignoring me. He just didn’t know how to tell me things could never happen between us. He didn’t know how to let me down gently, so he kept his distance.
Even though I had no clue how he could possibly know how I felt, that had to be it.
I pulled my phone out of my purse to check my email before class started.
I had a new one from Master Sebastian.
Piper,
Today’s the day. If you respond with answers to the questions below, that is your consent for a one day trial.
1. Reply to this email with one word that makes you think of sex.
2. Only if you are comfortable, send me your cell phone number. If not, we can continue this over email, but you will need to set your push notifications to alert you whenever you have a new email.
3. Send me a picture of the shoes you’re wearing right now.
-Master Sebastian
So Master Sebastian had a shoe fetish? He wanted to see my ankle wrapped in an elastic bandage and covered with a brace?
This was probably not the best day ever for this to happen, but I didn’t want to miss my chance.
I took a picture of my feet as discreetly as I could. I could’ve sworn Scott looked over at me, but I was past the point of caring.
Master,
1. Thrust
2. I prefer email.
3. I will send the picture in a separate email.
Class is starting now.
-Piper
I sent the email, I sent the picture, and then I changed my mail settings to let me know whenever a new email came through. I set my phone face-down on my desk. I realized this was rude, and it wasn’t something I ever did, but today I needed to be available for my master.
Dr. Harris was in the middle of his lecture when my phone buzzed. Scott glanced over in my direction. I slid the screen open and checked my new email.
Piper,
Well done. Did you hurt yourself? That may change the direction of my plans for you.
Class or no class, you are to respond within ten minutes to each of my emails. If you choose not to, I will create a punishment for you.
Tell me what class you are in. I want to learn about you.
-Master
Ten minutes? I was so bad at following orders. I already knew this would be an epic failure. But I had to give it my all.
Master,
I’m a Psych student, and I’m sitting in Statistics right now.
-P
My phone buzzed almost immediately. Scott shot another look in my direction without really looking at me.
Piper,
No abbreviations. You have a beautiful name and I want you to use it. I know I will be as I’m climaxing later.
Send me a picture of something to prove you’re in statistics.
-Master
I blushed at his email. The climaxing comment seemed a little forward considering this was like his fifth email to me.
I snapped a quick picture of Scott’s textbook next to me proclaiming PSYCHOLOGICAL STATISTICS and sent it off.
He left me alone for a little bit, and I wondered what he did for a living.
My phone buzzed near the end of the lecture. We always had a question and answer session at the end of lectures, and I had a feeling Dr. Harris would call on me.
&
nbsp; But I couldn’t keep Master Sebastian waiting. I was a little fearful of what the punishment might be. I realized the only one holding myself to it was me, but I didn’t do things half-assed. I was in this.
I opened up the email.
Piper,
Tell me what pleases you sexually.
-Master
Oh jeez. I had to tell him what pleased me sexually within ten minutes while I sat in the middle of class, likely to be called on to answer a question at any moment?
I started my reply, not really sure what to say.
Master,
I enjoy a really hard climax.
-Piper
I flushed as I hit send, and then I heard my name up in front of the class. “Piper?”
Oh, fuck.
Dr. Harris stared at me intently. He’d asked me a question, and I had no idea what it was because I’d been emailing back Master Sebastian with my sexual preferences when it came to hard climaxes.
Scott whispered something next to me. He barely moved his mouth so Dr. Harris wouldn’t catch him, but I thought I heard him say “partial correlation.”
“Partial climax?”
I heard a few snickers in the row ahead of me. Scott cleared his throat next to me. I glanced over at him, and he looked at me pointedly. “Correlation,” he whispered.
I looked at him in confusion.
Didn’t I just say that?
“No, Ms. Andrews,” Dr. Harris said. “Not partial climax.”
“Uh, I mean correlation.”
My cheeks burned in complete and utter mortification.
I glanced over at Scott, and even he was trying to hide his laughter as he stared straight ahead. His cheeks were pink, and he looked so freaking adorable that I wanted to hug him.
Wait. What? I wanted to hug Scott after he sat there laughing at me?
He had, in his defense, given me the correct answer after I’d been the one not paying attention for the majority of the lecture.
“That’s better, Ms. Andrews.” Dr. Harris moved onto another student, and the snickering mostly stopped. I sat with my hand resting on my forehead, shielding myself from the mocking glances of my classmates.
I practically ran out of the room after class ended, but I wasn’t very fast on crutches. Scott easily caught up with me. “You okay?” he asked.
I glared over at him and caught the clear amusement still in his eyes.
“Fine,” I snapped.
“Hey, don’t get mad at me. I’m the one who gave you the right answer.”
“Sorry,” I muttered. I headed toward my car.
“Are you okay to drive on that ankle?”
I wasn’t, but I didn’t want to look weak in front of him, either. “Driving is better than hobbling back to my apartment.”
I stood by my driver’s side door. I held the crutches between my armpits as I dug through my purse for my keys. Of course nothing could go right that morning, and just as I found my keys, one of the crutches slipped out of my grasp and banged into my car door before crashing to the ground. And then my phone buzzed with a new email.
“Fuck!” I yelled. I licked my finger and rubbed at the brand new scratch in my driver’s side door. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
Scott moved in quickly, picking up my fallen crutch. He opened the door to my backseat and tossed it in. Then he pulled the crutch from my other arm and tossed it in on top. I just stared at him, confused as to what he was doing and dumbfounded at my current situation.
He shut the door to my backseat and wrapped his arm around my waist. He helped me over to my front passenger seat, and then he took the keys out of my hands without a word and got behind the wheel to drive me back to my apartment.
It was less than a ten minute walk, less than a three minute drive, but the air filled with a tense silence for all one-hundred-eighty seconds of that drive.
Maybe it wasn’t tense for him, but it was tense for me.
“Oh shit,” I muttered when he pulled into a space in front of my apartment. Dax’s car still sat out front, and I’d just remembered Master’s email that had likely come through three minutes earlier.
I checked it.
“Why are you glued to your phone today? It’s not like you.”
“Part of my research,” I mumbled.
“Who keeps messaging you?”
I looked over at Scott and flushed. Again. With all of the blood rushing to my cheeks, I was going to faint at this rate. “The dominant.”
He chuckled and then he got out of my driver’s seat, grabbed my crutches out of the back, and walked around to my passenger seat. In the meantime, I read the email.
Piper,
I enjoy hard climaxes as well. I want you to give yourself one for being such a good girl. You have one hour. Do not reply to this email until you are finished, and I need photographic evidence of your choosing.
-Master
Photographic evidence? This guy wanted me to masturbate and then send photographic evidence? What the hell?
I sighed in frustration just as Scott opened my door.
“Things not going well with the dom?” His eyes were still amused. He held out his hand to help me out of the car, and I gladly took it, a little tingle shooting up my arm at the contact. I sighed.
“You’d never believe what he just asked me to do.”
“Try me.”
“It’s too humiliating.”
“Well now I have to know. I’m sure I’ll read it in your report anyway.”
He was right, although I wasn’t sure I’d put this in the report. I handed him my phone as I grabbed my crutches.
He read the screen, and then his eyes widened. “Photographic evidence?” he asked with a smirk. He shifted on his feet.
I shrugged. “I’ll figure something out.”
“Send it my way, too. You know, for research purposes.”
I smacked him on the arm and made my way toward my door. Scott was smiling with me for the first time in a long time. He unlocked it and opened it, and then I went in. Dax sat on my couch wearing just a pair of jeans and a smile on his face.
And then the two men who were fighting for a place in my heart were in my apartment, both with smiles that faded quickly when they took in the presence of the other man.
Of course, based on the way my morning was going, this had to happen.
With Dax there, I was going to have a hard time completing Master Sebastian’s mission.
“Oh,” Scott said. “You’ve got company. I’ll go.”
“No, Scott, it’s okay. This is Dax.”
“We met briefly at Emerson’s,” Dax said, standing and sauntering over to us. He didn’t seem self-conscious about that fact that his broad chest was naked. In fact, he seemed to puff up just a little. He was suddenly the tough guy because there was another man in the vicinity.
If he only knew.
“How you doing, man?” Dax said, sticking out his hand for a bro-handshake. Scott shook his hand as his eyes flicked over to me.
“I’ll leave you two alone.” Scott backed out. “Feel better, Piper.”
He shut the door behind him on his way out, and a little hollow sound echoed in my heart.
“How long have you been up?” I asked Dax after Scott left.
He gave me a sheepish look. “About ten minutes.”
I giggled.
“Your note said you’d be home around eleven, so I figured I’d wait for you.”
I set my crutches by the door and hobbled over to the couch with Dax’s help.
“You really need to put on a shirt.”
He gave me a wounded look.
“I mean because I can’t stop staring.”
He chuckled. “Stare away, sweets. I actually need to get going. I’ve got a meeting in an hour and I need to stop home first.”
As much as I wanted him to stay, it was probably a good thing he needed to go. I had some work to do before my meeting with Conrad Greene…namely, pushing myself to a hard climax
and figuring out what the hell I could send for photographic evidence. Oh, and possibly writing some interview questions.
I nodded, and he pulled his shirt back on. I gave him a sad face, and he laughed. “I’ve got practice all afternoon and then we’re playing Emerson’s tonight, so I won’t be able to hang out until tomorrow. You got any free time?”
“Tomorrow?”
He nodded.
“I have a test at one, and another class after that.”
“We play Emerson’s every night through Sunday, so if you’re free, come hang out there.”
“I will definitely come hang out.”
“I feel bad I can’t be here to take care of you.”
“Don’t feel bad.”
“I could come over after Emerson’s.”
“Don’t worry about it, Dax. I’ll be okay.” His offer was sweet, and I definitely wanted to spend more time with him, but this was all so new. I wanted to take things slowly with him, and I was afraid spending every night together spelled commitment. I wasn’t ready for that quite yet.
Besides, I still had more research to do. Getting into something potentially serious with one of my test subjects would spell the end of my research as I knew it.
He nodded, and then he leaned down to kiss me, one of those hot, intense, slow, desire-inducing ones that made me want to rip off my panties.
He pulled away, and I sighed in total pleasure.
Suddenly the idea of finding a way to make myself climax didn’t seem so hard after that kiss. He gave me plenty of material to think about.
He headed out with a smile, and after I heard the door click shut behind him, I waited all of thirty seconds before dipping my fingers into my panties to take care of business.
I was more prepared down there than I’d realized, and it only took about two minutes of dipping in and out and rubbing around the bundle of nerves before I found myself crying out in pleasure.
As I waited for my quaking thighs to calm down, I thought about how I really should’ve recorded my sound effects for my evidence. But he’d asked for photographic evidence.
God, this was mortifying. I wasn’t sending a crotch shot to a complete stranger.
The only evidence I had was currently on my fingers. Before I could think about it and talk myself out of it, I took a picture of my wet fingers and sent it off to Master Sebastian. I hoped it was good enough and he didn’t just think I’d just run my fingers under some sink water.