Despite Dustin’s best efforts to appear otherwise, he looked like he could be heading out for a night on the town. “Buddies. It’s Friday night, so we’re grabbing a bite before heading to clubs.”
The pair tailed the target around the corner and down the block. They strode along with the casual air of two friends looking forward to tearing it up. Though this street was largely residential with local businesses mixed in, a few streets over, nightclubs catered to the singles in the younger, upwardly mobile crowd. Jordan and Dustin kept up a steady stream of innocuous chatter and tried to outdo each other with bad puns.
“It’s not that the man didn’t know how to juggle; it’s that he didn’t have the balls to do it.” Dustin ended with a grin instead of a rim shot.
Jordan started with a soft one. “A gun-shaped eraser was confiscated from an algebra student because it’s a weapon of math destruction.”
That was a groaner. Dustin easily bested that one. “A chicken crossing the road is poultry in motion.”
“I’d tell you a chemistry joke, but I know it wouldn’t get a reaction.”
“I wondered why the baseball was getting bigger. Then it hit me.”
“A dog gave birth to puppies near the side of a road and was cited for littering.”
Thankfully their guy stopped at a fast food restaurant and ordered a milkshake before they ran out of material. Behind him in line, Jordan and Dustin debated the merits of coffee versus chocolate shakes.
“Chocolate has a little bit of caffeine in it,” Jordan said. “And a lot of sugar. That’ll keep you going.”
“It’s not real chocolate, so no caffeine. It’s mostly soy, isn’t it?” Dustin frowned. The man was an authority on chocolate.
“Still need a pick-me-up.” Jordan mumbled. “We’ll go see Matt. Gordo always comes through with some sweet rock.”
They got their target’s attention. He tilted his head to better listen to their conversation.
Dustin played along. Someone had supplied these junkies. Each had been freshly high, and they’d all crashed in custody. “No fucking way. Your guy got arrested last week. Didn’t Jody tell you?”
“Crap.” Jordan washed his hand over his face. “Christine is supposed to be there tonight. She’s horny when she’s had a little something extra, and she doesn’t care if people can see us.”
“You can find another slut. You’ll just have to buy her a few drinks first.”
“But now I’ll have to try. This was a done deal.” His turn came next. He ordered two coffees and noted how closely their target listened to their exchange.
They followed the man, wandering down the street toward the clubs. They watched him go into a nightclub. Dustin shook his head. “He didn’t bite.”
“Nope.” But he had been interested in their discussion of drugs. “Let’s hang for a bit, see if he comes out.”
Dustin leaned against the brick building behind him and stared at the venue well-known for catering to gay clientele. If they followed him inside, then he’d know they were onto him. “We should have been a couple.”
Jordan grunted. “Or at least talked about guys who were easy lays. We need to practice using androgynous names and avoiding gendered pronouns.”
Chapter Nine
Jordan stretched out on his sofa and unfolded the letter Amy had written two short weeks ago. She’d handwritten it because she’d said it was easier to organize her thoughts that way.
I don’t know exactly what submission is supposed to be. I’ve read about people who feel a desire to serve. Serving sounds so demeaning, like I have no self-esteem at all, which isn’t the case. That doesn’t resonate with me unless it maybe describes how I feel a deep need to do things for the people I love. I want to give them my time and energy. I want to make them happy, but in return, I want to be loved and appreciated. Nobody in my life takes advantage of my good nature, and I’d hate it if that happened.
So, what does submission mean to me? I picture it as a safe place, a refuge where I can be myself without fear of being judged. It’s where I can be close to someone who understands what makes me tick and maybe even likes those things about me. For that person alone, I’d gladly and devotedly serve him.
Jordan liked that she’d written it out in neat script, like the final draft of an important paper. She’d penned it on scented stationery that had decorative flowers dancing across the bottom. It was playful and whimsical, much like Amy herself. He read and reread the lines where she talked about wanting to be herself without fear of being judged. Though he’d been working with her for two weeks, she hadn’t yet shared anything that would undeniably reveal her inner little. No doubt she’d been ridiculed by someone before, and now she went through great pains to hide the evidence.
He sniffed the paper, but it had spent so much time in his wallet that it only smelled like leather. Carefully he folded the note and put it away. Then he grabbed his cell and dialed her number.
“Hey. I thought you’d be busy with groomsmen stuff.” Her tone was tight, evidence that she was stressed.
“Mal is planning to stay home with Colin because he’ll miss him when they go away for a week.” Keith had wanted to throw a bachelor party, but Malcolm had vetoed the idea. Instead they’d planned a play party and collaring ceremony for next month. In the BDSM community, the ceremony where a Dom and a sub proclaimed their commitment often meant more than legal vows.
“Yeah, Darcy is staying home too. That’s good, though. It gives me time to double check reservations and orders.”
“I thought you already did that?” Jordan was amazed by the sheer volume of work Amy had done in the past fourteen days. Through it all, she’d maintained the childish glee of anticipation. But Darcy was right about the fact that Amy worked too hard and needed to have fun.
“I did, but you can never be too careful. If you do it right, you only get one wedding.”
“True. Seeing as how you’ve already worked your ass off and everything is set, how about I come over and help take your mind off things?” They’d scened twice, not including the time after mini-golfing, and she’d responded well. He wasn’t sure if she was up for a scene tonight, but some submission would do her a world of good.
“I think I’ll be too tired,” she said, confirming his suspicion. “After I call the caterer, I was going to see if Darcy needed anything. And then I was going to maybe watch a movie and fall asleep in front of the TV.”
“Darcy is fine.” He used his Dom tone, which was a little deeper and slower than his normal voice. “I just talked to Malcolm. And the caterer is fine. You have a very efficient checklist, so stop second-guessing it. I’ll be over in an hour.”
“I don’t have steak or lasagna.” That was her way of saying she didn’t feel prepared to serve him.
“That’s fine. I’ll bring you some takeout, and we can watch your movie together.”
An hour later, she answered the door wearing a lavender shirt and matching plaid lounge pants. She smiled widely and gave him a heartfelt hug. He returned the gesture, embracing her tightly and holding her soft body against his for a little longer than was polite.
“You don’t have to do this, you know.”
He set a canvas bag down next to the entryway. After closing and locking her front door, he headed back to the kitchen with a bag of food. “Do what?”
“Entertain me so I don’t spend all night worrying. I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.” She wrung her hands and shifted her weight uncertainly.
Jordan smiled gently, seeking to ease her mind. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” He extracted two plastic containers he’d picked up from one of his favorite diners. “I brought fried chicken and mashed potatoes for dinner. And these for dessert.” He held up the last surprise he’d packed into the bag—a huge box of Sno-Caps. She’d mentioned a few days ago that they were one of her favorite treats to have with a movie.
She clapped her hands together and beamed a smile into his heart
. “I love those.”
“I know.” He let himself bask in her adoration for a few moments. “I’m going to change into sweats, and then you and I can camp out on the sofa in front of a movie, eat until we’re full, and then we can share dessert.”
“Okay.”
He heard the hesitation in her voice. Pausing in the doorway, he turned to face her. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. It’s just I don’t think I have a movie you’d enjoy. I can run out and rent one. What haven’t you seen recently?” She picked at her cuticle.
He knew that she needed to watch a movie that would help her relax. In the hour it had taken him to get from his place to hers, she had likely hidden any evidence she’d been engaged in childish activities that would help relieve her stress. “Let’s watch whatever you originally planned on seeing.”
A hint of a blush traveled up her neck, and she averted her gaze.
Returning to her side, he took her hands in his. “Little one, tell me what’s wrong. Are you afraid I won’t want to watch your movie? I assure you that I like a lot of different kinds of movies—even chick flicks and kid movies.”
She slid the tip of her toe in circles on the floor. “I was going to watch Finding Nemo. It’s childish, I know, but I find it relaxing.”
Pleased that she’d opened up a little more, he rewarded her with a smile and a hug. “I like it too. Go get it set up while I change.” His grin stayed put as he thought about the fact they’d be watching a movie about a Daddy searching for his little one who was stuck in a prison that society deemed an acceptable way to live life. How fitting.
When he returned, he found her placing glasses of grape juice on the coffee table where she’d already set out the food. She’d put it on plates. Forks on folded paper napkins lay next to each setting. She looked him up and down. “You look ready for bed.”
“So do you.” Except she was wearing a bra. If she was his, he’d make her take it off so that she could really relax and so that he’d have easier access to her breasts. She had delectable breasts, and he couldn’t wait until he had the right to play with them whenever he wanted. He parked himself on the sofa and patted the cushion. “Sit. Let’s eat.”
She followed his order, but her lower lip stuck out in a bratty pout. “Are you here as a friend or as my trainer?”
“Both. I can’t help but top you, little one. That’s not a part of my personality that goes away, especially not since you’ve given me permission to dominate you.” He picked up his plate and set it on his lap. “I’m starved. Go ahead and start the movie.”
They watched and ate, saying very little for the next hour. When the food was gone, he pulled her so that she cuddled against his side, and he covered her with the light throw blanket she kept over the back of the sofa. She rested her head and hand on his chest, and once when he laughed, she looked up at him, her lips parted in surprise. He wanted so badly to kiss her, and he barely refrained. One more day.
Amy woke quickly, the excitement of the day to come bursting in her like fireworks. Two months of planning was culminating this afternoon. Her little sister, the one she’d worried about for years, was getting married. And Amy had planned every detail according to Darcy’s wishes. Well, Malcolm’s too. He had definite opinions on most things, including the flower arrangements.
Last night had been strangely perfect. Never before had she let someone over while she indulged in one of her secret guilty pleasures. The last time she’d tried to get one of her boyfriends to watch Finding Nemo with her, it hadn’t gone too well. Eric had always managed to leave her alone when she watched a movie he didn’t want to see, which ended up being most times. If he chose the movie, she stayed whether she liked it or not.
Jordan had not only accepted it without comment, but he seemed to really enjoy the movie. Thinking of the way he snuggled her as they watched, her smile grew. He liked her as more than a friend. He had to. Friends didn’t snuggle like that. They didn’t share intimate moments without there being more to their relationship. He’d said they were going to see where things would naturally go, and Amy felt they were almost there. When he’d hugged her goodbye, he’d held her for a long, long time, and it had felt right.
She showered, snagged her beauty supplies, and headed to Darcy’s house where all the bridesmaids were gathering to get ready. The place was mass chaos with women running around half-dressed as they took turns with the hair stylist and makeup specialist that Amy had hired.
Clad in a wispy slip that didn’t hide the angry welts decorating her backside and upper thighs, Darcy hugged Amy tightly. “Do you have something to tell me?”
Amy hugged her back, but she frowned as she racked her brain for a detail she’d forgotten to relay. “No?”
“Are you sure? You look very happy today. You’re glowing.”
In fact, the opposite was true. If anybody was glowing, it was the bride—from both ends. The welts had most likely been an early wedding gift from Malcolm to help Darcy deal with her nerves. Despite having to do it all the time, Darcy was still anxious about speaking in front of a group of people for any reason, and getting married definitely qualified as public speaking. “You’re the one glowing. It’s probably reflected glow. I’m so happy for you.”
Darcy laughed. “So, nothing has happened with Jordan?”
Though she’d confided to Darcy that Jordan was training her, she’d also issued assurances that it was strictly D/s with no romantic or sexual elements. Amy shrugged. “Same story as last time. Mixed signals. He came over last night. We snuggled on the couch and watched a movie. He brought Sno-Caps.”
Cupping Amy’s face, Darcy pressed their foreheads together. “Promise you’ll call me if something happens?”
“Don’t hold your breath. Just enjoy your honeymoon and know that I’ll be helping Mom and Dad watch Colin until Malcolm’s parents take over.” Their parents were scheduled to stay with Colin for three days, and then Malcolm’s parents were going to watch him for the rest of the week. The Markeviches loved their grandson, but they didn’t like babies all that much. They were planning to head out Tuesday in their RV to continue exploring the nation via campgrounds and RV parks full of retirees. The Legatos, on the other hand, were made to be grandparents. They were chomping at the bit to take their grandson for a few days of uninterrupted spoiling.
The architecture of the nondenominational chapel was classy and clean, a blank canvas for a decorator. Flowers burst all over the place. Malcolm had insisted on chrysanthemums and roses—with the thorns still on—as the décor. Amy had made sure the mums made it to the places where children could reach, and so they decorated the pews. The thorns were special for Darcy.
As she was the maid-of-honor and Keith was the best man, he walked her down the aisle. They were the last pair to make the trek before the bride, and Amy’s gaze was drawn to the altar where Jordan stood off to the side next to Dustin and Malcolm’s brother, MJ. Taller, bigger, and more handsome than any man there, he definitely stood out. His cheeks and chin were smooth, and his dark hair was once again neatly trimmed. The ends curled gently against his broad shoulders. She hadn’t been allowed to touch it yet, but she had imagined what it would be like to shave his face and brush his hair. It would be soft, and…
She stumbled. It was a little thing, with her ankle buckling on the unfamiliar high heel. Keith caught her easily, saving her from an embarrassing spill. He’d been aware enough to sling his arm around her waist before she twisted or sprained anything. To onlookers, it would look like a friendly embrace or show of emotional support instead of the result of inattention or klutziness. She smiled gratefully.
He leaned down. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Thanks.” She could walk just fine if she paid attention to what she was doing and not how handsome and alluring Jordan looked in a tuxedo.
She joined Layla, Trina, and Jennifer, MJ’s wife, in the place where the bridesmaids stood. The flower girl, Keith and Trina’s adopted daughter, An
gie, came next. The tiny four-year-old in a frilly white dress sprinkled red and white rose petals carefully on the white fabric runner that marked the bride’s path. Right behind her, Alex and Andrew, MJ and Jennifer’s sons, shared ring-bearer duties.
Trina beamed as she regarded her child. “She’s been practicing for a week,” she whispered proudly.
“She’d doing great,” Amy whispered back. She meant to watch Angie and the boys, but her gaze was pulled to Jordan, where she found him staring at her with a fierce expression. She smiled with the hope he’d lighten up and return the gesture. He did.
During the vows, Amy cried at the sheer beauty and meaning of this momentous occasion. Since it was a summer wedding, she didn’t have sleeves in which to tuck a tissue, but she did her best to wipe the tears away with her fingers before they completely ruined her makeup. Darcy’s voice shook, and Amy knew her sister was barely holding it together as well, but she had Malcolm right there to give her strength. Her voice grew stronger as she spoke, and that only made Amy cry harder.
On the return trip down the aisle, Amy found Jordan had replaced Keith as her escort. He stuffed his linen handkerchief in her hand so she could wipe her eyes, and he steadied her on the walk. Once they exited the church, Amy intended to join the line that led to the newly married couple, but Jordan pulled her aside.
“Did you twist your ankle?”
“No. It’s fine. Keith caught me before I could do any damage.” Heat crept up Amy’s neck, evidence of latent embarrassment. She didn’t think anybody but Keith had noticed her stumble.
Jordan took the handkerchief she’d balled in her fist. “Look up.” He gently wiped under her eyes, fixing her makeup so she wouldn’t look like a raccoon.
“Where did you learn to do that?”
“I have sisters, remember?”
“Yeah.” She sniffled.
He handed over the handkerchief. “It’s fixed as long as you don’t cry again. Now blow your nose.”
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