The Commitment (The Unrestrained #2)

by S. E. Lund

  THE COMMITMENT

  S. E. LUND

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Thanks to my family for all the encouragement while I was on this journey to published author. To my sons Vince and Matt for overlooking the dirty dishes and to my mother, father and sister for your support and understanding. Special thanks to Charlene and all my beta readers for your patience as you read early drafts and helped me bring about my vision. Most of all, thanks to my editor Michelle Saunders for your continued friendship and help editing my novels. Any remaining mistakes are mine and mine alone.

  "Trust yourself, then you will know how to live."

  Goethe

  "We are never so vulnerable than when we trust someone – but paradoxically, if we cannot trust, neither can we find love or joy."

  Walter Anderson

  CHAPTER ONE

  Submission was my guilty pleasure. My secret desire. People might look at me and see me as an intelligent capable woman, a grad student who won the Thesis Prize for my writing about Africa. Daughter of a Chief Justice and potentially-future Congressman. But I wasn't that perfect little daughter. I was a woman who let her Dominant lover tie her up, blindfold her, introducing her to the world of D/s, who went to a dungeon party and was spanked in front of a crowd.

  I sat in my apartment, drinking a cup of coffee and enjoying the solitude. I smiled to myself as I thought about my short but intense love affair with Drake Morgan, MD, bass player, philanthropist, looking forward to meeting him later at the apartment on 8th Avenue, eager for whatever plans he had to use my body.

  The week before we were leaving for Nairobi, Kenya, and Drake was at his charitable foundation for a meeting. I spent the morning packing, waiting to meet him in hopes that we could play out a scene from his letters – something I'd been waiting for since I signed his contract and agreed to be his submissive.

  As his submissive, I had to wait for him to decide the time was right so despite the ache in my body thinking about it, I squelched the urge to question him, ask for it.

  At about eleven, my cell buzzed. I hoped it was Drake saying he'd be there early, but it was my father calling from his office using Facetime.

  "Hi, Daddy," I said. I couldn't help smiling at the image of him on my phone, sitting at his desk with his readers perched at the end of his nose, his bristle-brush haircut and square face reminding me of a bulldog.

  "Hi, sweetheart," he said in his characteristic gravelly voice. "Elaine and I want to take you and Drake out for dinner before you go away. What do you say? Anyplace you'd like to go?"

  "I'll ask Drake. I'm sure he'd love to go out with you both."

  "Call me back when you know."

  "I will."

  The call ended and before I called Drake, I checked my email but there was nothing except spam and daily news headlines I subscribed to.

  My cell rang and so I checked the call display. Drake Morgan, MD.

  "Hi," I said, smiling, my pulse increasing as I imagined what order he'd give me. "I was just going to call you."

  "Kate, I'm sorry," he said, his voice sounding preoccupied. "Something came up and things have taken longer than expected. I'm going to have to put our meeting off until later tonight."

  Our meeting. He must have someone in the office with him and was using code to refer to our scene. Disappointment flooded through me.

  "Is everything OK?"

  "Everything's fine. Just some business to wrap up before we leave."

  "My dad called and wants to take us out to dinner tonight. He said the restaurant was our choice. Do you feel like joining them for dinner? Is there somewhere you'd really like to go?"

  He paused. "Of course," Drake said. "How about we all go to the Russian Tea Room one last time?"

  I smiled. "Only if you agree that we don't sit in a booth."

  He laughed at that and then spoke in a low deep voice as if trying not to be heard. "Don't tempt me, Ms. Bennet. You've got my mind working overtime thinking of ways to enjoy you while we're in public."

  "Drake…"

  "Katherine," he said, his voice firm. He said nothing for a moment. "Hold on a second." I heard him speak to someone, wishing them well and thanking them for the meeting. Then, the sound of a door closing.

  "Sorry," he said. "I had someone in my office."

  "Drake, we could never do anything when my father's there…" I said, despite being titillated by the whole idea.

  "Of course not. But we could arrive a bit early…"

  I sat there, biting a nail, wondering how to respond to the tone of his voice, which was definitely authoritative, brooking no argument.

  "What time would we meet them?" he asked.

  "The usual time. Seven-thirty."

  "Tell your dad it's my treat and that I insist. I'll reserve the fourth floor at the Russian Tea Room. Now, as for you, Ms. Bennet, I'll pick you up at 8th Avenue at 6:45 and we'll arrive a half hour early. Remember my rules for going out in public. I want you wearing that black dress you wore at the fundraiser and your stockings and garters. Nothing underneath. Put your hair up so I can see your collar and get at that neck of yours. You'll be so wet when we get to the restaurant, I imagine I could make you come very easily."

  I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting with my urge to argue. "If you really want this."

  "I really want this, Katherine. I'm getting hard thinking about slipping my fingers inside of you while we're sitting at the table. I'm going to have to do some serious meditation and deep breathing to get rid of my not so little problem before I go to my next meeting…"

  "I wish I could help you with that problem, Doctor Morgan."

  He laughed. "I do as well. You'll help me later."

  I smiled at the image of him dressed in his suit, his erection straining at his trousers.

  "See you and it at six-forty five," I said, butterflies in my belly at the thought of him having his way with me at the restaurant.

  "That's my good girl," he replied, his voice sounding pleased. "I love you."

  "I love you, too," I said, his words eliciting a flood of warmth through me.

  I ended the call and sighed, my body already warming to the thought of what would happen tonight.

  The morning passed quickly and I ate a meager lunch I picked up from the deli across the street from my apartment. I spent the afternoon packing up the rest of my apartment. Most of the boxes that would be shipped to Africa were ready to go at my father's, but those things I'd donate or keep in storage were still waiting to be boxed up.

  At about four o'clock, I took a taxi to my father's where my clothes were already packed for the trip. I said hello to my father and Elaine and then started to get ready, having a quick bath, shaving so that my skin was completely smooth, and then I did my hair and makeup. I unpacked my dress from the fundraiser and after fluffing it in the clothes dryer, I slipped it on. The final touch was the black velvet choker with the diamond pendant Drake had given me. My collar. Finally, I gathered up my coat and bag. I briefly popped my head in my father's office.

  "Hi, Daddy," I said when he was no longer on the phone. He glanced up from his papers and smiled.

  "You look lovely. How come you're ready so early?"

  "I'm meeting Drake for a drink before dinner. We've got a lot to discuss."

  My father nodded. "We'll meet you there at 7:30. I haven't been to the Russian Tea Room in ages."

  "Drake loves the Tea Room. His dad took him there during a trip to Manhattan when Drake was first in college. They used to eat there regularly when his dad would visit. Drake's such a sentimental man."

  I went to him and kissed his cheek. He smiled up at me, squeezing my hand on his shoulder, no more words bein
g spoken between us. I turned and went to the door, still so amazed at how things had changed between my father and me in such a short while and it was all because of Drake.

  When I glanced back, he was already back on the phone making plans for his run for office.

  I took my father's limo service to Drake's apartment on 8th Avenue, texting him when I was outside. I climbed the stairs to the third floor loft, thinking back to the first time I went there and how he met me on the landing. When I opened the door, Drake was waiting for me in the entry, holding two shot glasses of Anisovaya.

  "Ms. Bennet…"

  "Dr. Morgan," I replied, unable to keep a grin off my face. "I see you've got everything well in hand."

  "Always," he said, his eyes twinkling in that way that promised so much. "I hope to have you well in hand all evening. I hope you obeyed my orders about your manner of dress."

  "Do you doubt it?"

  "Of course not, but you have quite a will. One I intend to tame."

  "Tame?" I said, matching his mock stern tone. "What could you possibly mean by that, Doctor?"

  "Tame," he said, officiously, as he handed me the glass. "To make docile, tractable, obedient. To domesticate. To harness, to control."

  We shot back the Anisovaya, the liquor burning down my throat, warming my belly. I'd come to associate the taste with pleasure, and a thrill of desire flooded through me at what would happen next.

  "You like your women tame?"

  "No," he said, taking the glass from my hands and placing them on the small table by the door. "After meeting you, I realized I like them quite the opposite. I like them wild, willful, self-prepossessed. What I love is taming them. I love the battle of wills." He removed my coat and hung it in the closet in the entry. Then he took me in his arms, one around my waist, pulling me against his body, the other brushing a lock of hair from my cheek. "I love the planning, the reconnaissance, the approach, the first engagement, the attack, the resistance, then the eventual surrender."

  He had this look in his eyes, amusement and heat that sent my heart racing.

  "But do you lose interest once you've conquered?" I said it without even thinking, but then, a sense of sadness went through me. "Once your adversary has surrendered, when there's nothing left to tame?"

  He shook his head. "The wise general never totally destroys the spirit of the conquered. What good is a razed and barren landscape?"

  I leaned my head against his chest, never really having thought about what Drake would do once he had my complete submission.

  "Will you go off looking for new lands to conquer once you've subdued your current target?"

  He pulled away and looked down at me, a frown on his face. "Kate…"

  "Well, when you put it that way, it got me thinking."

  He led me over to the couch in the living room and sat down, pulling me down to sit on his lap, my legs over to one side, my arms around his neck like that first night in November.

  "I was just playing around."

  I nodded, but my insecurities came to the surface from out of nowhere.

  "Kate, you're not merely a submissive to me. I love you. I want to be with you. Not only as your Dom but as your partner. I'm old enough to know when I've found what I need to make me happy. I have found it. I'm not going to grow bored with you. I want you to stay who you are. I don't want a footstool. I thought you understood."

  "I do, but it's every woman's insecurity."

  "Shh," he said, a finger against my lips. "You are completely everything I want and need. You're beautiful, intelligent, warm, loving and submissive sexually underneath all the questioning and resistance. You don't have to worry."

  "We hardly know each other," I said, thinking of the very brief amount of time that had passed since we met.

  "I know you, Kate," he said, kissing my cheek. "You don't easily hide your emotions. You question everything, so I know where your mind is. I know you."

  I sighed and leaned my head against his shoulder. We were still so new to each other, having been together for barely four months since the fundraiser. Still, I knew what I wanted.

  Drake.

  But suddenly, the enormity of what I was doing struck me. I had given up my semester at Columbia. I was packing up my apartment and had given it up, and I'd lose the lease at the end of January. Most of my things were either at my father's or would be in storage. I was going to Kenya with Drake, to live with him.

  It was what I wanted, but a little crack of doubt crept in. I'd be alone with Drake in a foreign country, completely dependent on him. I could always leave if need be for I had my own money, but still…

  "Stop," Drake said, tilting my chin up so that I had to look into his blue eyes. "I know what's going on in that mind of yours. This is a big commitment, but don't you feel the way I do? That this is exactly what you want and need?"

  "Yes."

  I tried to squash the doubt in my mind. I had to go on my own gut feelings and trust myself. My time with Drake had been only wonderful. Only pleasurable.

  "Good," Drake said and kissed me tenderly. He ran the backs of his fingers along my cheek, then touched the choker, before letting his fingers drop to my cleavage. "I want us to be happy and enjoy ourselves tonight, with your father and Elaine but also as a couple. Until they arrive, we're in scene and I want your total submission to me. No questions. No more doubt."

  He ran his hand along my leg, from my knee to my thigh. Then, he slipped his hand under the hem of my dress, his fingers searching out the tops of my seamed stockings to the clasps of my garter belt.

  "Mmm," he said, murmuring against my throat. "Just what the doctor ordered."

  I closed my eyes, smiling. "Your wish is my command."

  He pressed me down on the couch, lying on top of me, his body between my now-spread thighs. Once more, he fingered my garters and the tops of my stockings as if he couldn't get enough of them. Then, he slipped them between my thighs, his fingers unerringly finding the opening to my body, his thumb on my clit, which he circled lazily. I moaned softly and couldn't help but move my hips in response, pressing into his fingers.

  He kissed me deeply, his tongue finding mine, searching my mouth, sucking in my tongue. My heart raced, shocks of lust surging through me as he slipped fingers inside to test my level of arousal. He pulled back, his eyes half hooded.

  "Nice and wet already," he said, his voice a whisper. "It'll be hard to last through the night with you like that."

  I lay with my eyes closed, a smile on my lips. "All you have to do is talk to me and I'm ready. In fact," I added. "I only have to think of you."

  He bent down and kissed my neck and I could feel the rise of his cheek in a smile.

  "That's an awful lot of power," he said, his voice playful. "I like it, being a Dom and all." He grinned at that and then abruptly sat up, pulling his hand from between my thighs and beneath my dress. He stood and helped me up, my legs a little wobbly from the lust he'd built up with his talk and his touch and his kiss.

  "So, what are your plans? Are you going to make me so aroused before dinner that I can't focus and sit there like a rag doll in front of my parents?"

  "Oh, I have so many plans, Ms. Bennet," he said and pulled me to the closet, where he removed my coat and held it out for me. "You'll just have to be a good submissive and wait to find out." He opened his eyes wide at that, reminding me I was supposed to be in sub mode.

  "I'm still learning what being a good submissive means," I said and slipped the coat on. "I'm always questioning everything."

  He wrapped his arms around me from behind. "That's how I knew you and I would be so good together. You want to know, to understand. I love to teach. We're perfect together."

  I smiled and leaned back against him. We were.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The Russian Tea Room was busy when we arrived. After we removed our coats, a hostess took us in the elevator to the fourth floor Hearth Room, which Drake had reserved for the evening, sparing no expense. As
the elevator rose, Drake stood slightly behind me, his arms around me, pressing his already-hard erection against me while the hostess stood at the front of the elevator, making pleasant conversation.

  When we arrived on the fourth floor, the hostess led the way to our private dining room. My skin tingled as Drake took my hand in his, running his thumb over my knuckles. The Hearth Room was all gilded chairs and white tablecloths with sparkling crystal, the walls deep maroon, the floors polished wood and covered with Persian carpets. In the center of the room stood the hearth, and on either side were tables. In one wing, a set of plush dark sofas faced each other across a coffee table.

  Drake led me to the sofas where tiny buckwheat crepes called blini, caviar and vodka had been laid out on the mirrored surface. Once the hostess left, Drake pulled me down onto his lap and began to feed me blini smeared with caviar, sour cream and minced red onions.

  I lay across his lap, my arm around his shoulder, and enjoyed the delicious savory taste of the caviar, the creaminess of the sour cream, the bite of the onion all wrapped together in the tiny crepe.

  Drake handed me a shot glass of vodka, which I downed after he toasted us. The vodka warmed my throat and belly, and soon, I was so relaxed, I barely noticed when Drake's hand slipped once more beneath my dress to caress my thigh where the tops of my nylons met my lace garters. After we finished off another blini, my eyes closed in pleasure, Drake stood up and left me on the couch, going to the double doors and closing them, so that we were cut off from the other rooms. I stood up, adjusting my dress and turned to the washroom.

  "Where do you think you're going?" he said, eyeing me with a frown.

  "Just to freshen up before my parents get here."

  "You look beautiful just the way you are," he said and came to my side, his gaze moving over my face. "I want you," he said, his voice hoarse. "Now."

  He grabbed me and pulled me close, his lean hard body pressed against mine, one hand at the small of my back, the other tangled in my hair.