Intimate Geography

by Tamsen Parker

  The sudden absence of his mouth leaves me wanting, as always. “On me. Now.”

  “I’ll be careful.”

  He releases me, and his face is hard with strain as I inch back, avoiding his injuries. I can’t wait to have him fill me. I rise up, grasping him, stroking a few times before guiding him inside me. As I sink onto him, the world becomes brighter, like I’ve applied the perfect filter to an already gorgeous photograph. This is how we are meant to be, this is what we are meant to do. I ease down until my thighs are grazing his pelvis. He grasps my hips and pulls me hard onto him, finding the final inch I have to give and making me mewl with the twinge that happens deep inside if there aren’t any test strokes to ease his way.

  His blunt fingers dig into my hips, and he rocks up, hitting that painful spot again. We both suck in a breath at the same time, and though mine is the kind of ache I’ll enjoy, his is not. I lay a hand over his chest, over his heart. “May I? Please, sir?”

  I’ve given him the power to grant me permission, and I’m praying he’ll take it, not try to be macho about this.

  “Please may you what?” The wicked gleam in his eye says he’ll play the game, but he’s going to play it his way.

  “Fuck you. Please?”

  “I’m sorry, who is getting fucked here?” He’s punctuated his inquiry with another thrust, much more effective than a question mark.

  “I am, sir,” I pant, the breath forced out of me. I wriggle on him, inviting another harsh tilt of his hips.

  “That’s right. Perhaps you’d like to rephrase?”

  Another stomach-clenching thrust has me grasping his chest hair between my fingers.

  “May I—” How on god’s green earth does he expect me to diagram a sentence while he’s doing this? But I need to figure it out fast before he injures himself to make a point. “May I fuck myself on you? Please? Please, sir.”

  His eyes roll toward his hairline, and he kneads my hips so hard I’ll be bruised, milking the moment of indecision before lifting his chin in assent. “Go ahead, pet. I want to see you come on me.”

  I set a rocking rhythm with my hips, grinding against him as hard as I dare, savoring the friction. It’s an embarrassingly short time later that I’m pleading to come. He denies me once, but it’s been so long he doesn’t tease further before giving me blessed permission. One last thrust sends me over the edge in a gasping, clutching explosion of pleasure.

  When I’ve come down, I rest against his chest, my face nuzzled into that perfect place on his throat to lick where his pulse is pounding. I squeeze around him, and he groans.

  “You’d best be doing something about that other than teasing.”

  I kiss and nip up his throat, sinking teeth lightly into his jaw before I let myself kiss him on the mouth, a slow sweep of my tongue making a promise. I most certainly will. I push up, find my balance, lace my hands behind my head. My breasts are thrust out, and as I undulate on him, I know I make a pretty picture. He grabs my hips again, fingers digging into my flesh, finding the spots he’s already made tender and grasping them so hard I clench my teeth. He doesn’t give up until I squeal, and he uses his grip to direct my movements, the tension building on his face.

  He lasts longer than I did, although not by much and he’s trying a lot harder than I was to resist. His whole body goes rigid as he finds his release inside of me. A fine farewell for now.

  Chapter Four

  ‡

  “Welcome back, Ms. Burke.”

  “Coffee, Lucy.”

  “Of course.” Her chipper face falls until I put a box in her hands.

  “I recognize the irony of this gift, but I know you’re quite the aficionado. Take it home and don’t share. Thank you for stepping up these past two weeks. I appreciate it, and I’ll be sure to tell Jack. If you can help me not get fired for the next few months, there’ll be more where that came from.”

  “Yes, Ms. Burke. Thank you.”

  I don’t bother sticking around to watch her open it. I know what’s in there: a two-pound package of Kona’s finest coffee beans. She’ll be delighted. I dump my bag on the floor and survey my office. Everything looks the same, like I never left. Like I haven’t been existing in an alternate universe for the past two-and-a-half weeks. God, it feels good to be back. In my real clothes: a lime-green pencil skirt and white silk sleeveless blouse and my shoes—my shoes! In my real job: telling people what to do and having them thank me for it and earning a paycheck as well. In my real element. I’m so happy, even when—no, especially when my phone rings. Before I can get the handset to my ear, I’m greeted by Jack.

  “India, get your ass in my office five minutes ago.”

  I don’t bother to reply, but hang up, grab my tablet, and walk out where Lucy has my favorite mug waiting for me. Yes, this is better. I let myself get sucked back into my projects, and it’s after noon when I check my personal cell. One text from Rey:

  Happy first day back. Call me.

  And a voicemail from Crispin:

  “Hey, India. I hope the place hasn’t fallen apart in your absence and you’ve had the chance to yell at everyone who needed it. I miss you. Call me later if you get a minute.”

  He sounds better, more like himself, not having slipped back into broodiness. I’ll call him when I get home. Vera’s still there during the day and Mary was supposed to come visit, but I’ve found my brain sneaking off to wonder if he’s doing all right when I’m supposed to have my head in the game.

  My first day back goes smoothly. I’m like a foot that’s slipped back into a well-worn shoe, finding comfort in the familiar feeling of containment. I only need to be one person here: India Burke, bitch-on-wheels, at your service. For a price.

  I chat with Greg Wu about our revised calendar. When I’d done the original, I’d been looking to escape Crispin and anything that might remind me of him, so Phoenix had been perfect. But now that I’ll be going to Kona on a regular basis again, I’ve had to rethink this. All that travel would’ve been great for my frequent flyer miles but hell on my sleep and gym schedule. Greg doesn’t seem to mind when I make my apologies about the changes. I’m looking forward to working with him.

  I finish out the day by getting updates from the associates who are working on my projects. They’ve managed to not fuck up completely while I’ve been away, and I’m grudgingly pleased. It seems they can be taught. Who knew?

  After the parade of underlings is over, I buzz Lucy and ask her to come into my office. I rarely use the intercom—usually I yell—but I don’t want to make her skitter in with her doe eyes wide. No, Lucy and I need to have a chat.

  She opens the door to my office and hovers, uncertain.

  “Come on in, Lucy. Shut the door and have a seat.”

  Mincing her way across the carpet, she clasps her hands tight in front of her. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out she’s terrified, even though I said something nice to her this morning. I realize for the first time, because I’m an idiot, that in this context, Lucy is like my sub and I’m like her Dom. It’s a crazy way to understand it because there are so many ways in which this is nothing like a D/s relationship, but I think I’m on to something. And if this vocabulary helps me make sense of it, that’s what I’m going to use. In my own head, of course.

  While I was doing my training with Rey, he’d insisted I at least know how to dominate someone. I’d been more resistant to that than anything else he’d wanted me to try. Violet wand? Sure. Capsaicin oil? No problem. Something called, presciently, an evil stick? Bring it on. Be responsible for another person’s well-being and pleasure? Hell, no.

  “What if your master asked you to? Wouldn’t you want to please him?” he’d asked.

  “Yes, sir.”

  He’d had me play with one of his most experienced sub friends, a gorgeous brunette with a pixie haircut and a cream-complexioned, heart-shaped ass that begged to be beaten. “Ninety percent of this is about confidence and attentiveness. You’re not lacking for either
.”

  “What’s the other ten percent?”

  “Style.” He’d grinned, handing me my favorite flogger. “And you’ve got that in spades.”

  I’d done more than passably well by calling up my own desires and thinking on the things Rey and Hunter had done that had made me feel the most comfortable, turned on. But there had been too much pressure. The weight of that woman’s happiness and safety had rested so heavily on me. With every flick of my wrist, every time the strands of the flogger had thwapped her gorgeous behind, I felt more crushed by the burden. What if I screwed up? What if I did some serious damage?

  I was responsible for her, and even though she’d said yes, enthusiastically, all I could think was that I had power over her and I was hurting her. Regardless of how hard I tried to bury the image and concentrate on what I was doing, all I could see were my mother and my sister egging me on, goading me. I’d wanted to drop the flogger, sink to the floor with my hands over my ears, and scream at their impeccably made-up but cruel faces, I’m not like you.

  No matter how many times I told myself Rey was right there, he wouldn’t let me harm her, she could stop it any time and I’d listen, I couldn’t escape the certainty that I was half-monster, half-terrified child. How could I be trusted with another person’s welfare?

  Despite making that woman come a handful of times—her desperate pleas to stop turning into heaving moans of, “Don’t stop,” and her body writhing in spasms of pleasure—I’d cried afterward and pleaded with Rey to never make me do it again while he rocked me in his lap.

  He’d apologized, saying he hadn’t realized it would upset me so much. “Actually, I thought, given the opportunity…”

  I’d looked up at him, lashes stuck together with tears, my chin still trembling. “What?”

  He’d cupped my jaw, stroked my cheek while he looked in my eyes so long it made me uncomfortable. But then his brows knit, and he’d shaken his head.

  “I thought somewhere, deep in here,” he’d said, tapping a finger in the center of my forehead, “you might be a switch. And a hell of a one, too. But maybe not in here.” He’d laid his hand over my heart, and the warm, steady weight of it soothed me. “And that’s where it counts. I was wrong. I’m sorry. I won’t bring it up again.”

  And now here I sit, willing myself into that headspace.

  First thing, make her comfortable. If those chestnut eyes get any bigger, they’re going to eat her face.

  “Hey, Lucy, relax. It’s okay, you’re not in trouble. I wanted to talk to you.”

  She’s blinking a lot, but she lets out a breath. Her pulse is pounding in her throat, and I hate myself for making her feel this way. She shouldn’t be afraid of me. I want respect, obedience, attentiveness—not fear. I’ve been going about this all wrong.

  “I wanted to apologize.”

  Her eyes flicker around my office, and her cheeks color. “F-for what?”

  “I’m new with this whole…” I wave carelessly. “Someone-working-for-me thing.” Confidence, India, confidence. How is she supposed to believe you if you don’t? “I haven’t been the world’s greatest boss, and I feel like I should do something about that. Make my expectations more clear.”

  She’s flushed a pretty shade of pink, and I bury my smirk. The blushing. If she had any idea what kind of trouble that could get her in… She’s still nervous, unsure of herself, and since I can’t touch her, pet her, reassure her with my hands, I use my voice. “When you put your mind to it, you do good work. I’ve seen it, a lot of it, while I was away. I need that level of effort all the time. And I need you to think about what I want. The thing is, ninety percent of the time you already know the answer. Right?”

  A smile. Excellent, that’s what I was trying for. “Coffee.”

  I reward her with a smile of my own, and she grins, a nervous giggle escaping between her straight white teeth. “You make a beautiful cup of coffee, Lucy. I’ve never had one more delicious than the ones you make for me. Know what would make them better?”

  Her grin fades, and her eyes go vacant, staring at a non-existent stain on the carpet. I resist rolling my eyes, thinking of all the times I was clueless and lost in the face of my Dom’s desires, how terrifying that was and how much it hurt when they’d mocked me or made me feel stupid. She blinks several times and turns a shy hopeful face up to mine. “Not having to ask for it?”

  “Exactly.”

  She beams like a little girl taking a curtsey after her first recital.

  “Think about the times when I might most want or need a cup, like when I first get in or right before a meeting with Jack. While I’m here this week, try to make it happen. Got it?”

  “Yes, Ms. Burke.”

  Ah. I recognize the look on her face. The smallest bit of direction can help settle you so much, and I’ve given Lucy a foundation to stand on. I hope this is a new beginning for us, one in which we stop driving each other batshit insane.

  “That’s it. That’s all I wanted to talk to you about.”

  She stands and turns toward the door, then hesitates. Her shoulders go up in the floral top she’s got on, and I raise an eyebrow, expecting her to turn and ask me a question. But she squares them and walks out, a new strut in her step.

  Ten minutes later, there’s a knock at my door, and when I call my “Come in,” I know it’s Lucy without looking up from my spreadsheet.

  “I’m leaving for the night, Ms. Burke. Is there anything else I can get you?”

  I close my eyes and sigh. Did my message not get through at all? Perhaps I’ll have to be more—

  But my thoughts are interrupted by my favorite mug being placed on my desk, steam rising from a freshly brewed cup, and I smile, hefting the warm ceramic to offer her a toast.

  “No, Lucy, thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  *

  Dragging my ass out of the elevator, I clop in my heels down the carpeted hallway toward my apartment, towing my wheelie bag stuffed with files and my laptop behind me. Home, sweet home. I’d gotten in late last night and felt like I was staying at a hotel. Or maybe a poorly decorated motel where someone moved my clothes and few belongings. I’d been so exhausted I hadn’t had a chance to dwell on how it doesn’t feel like home anymore. Not like a certain set of interconnected wood huts buried between the jungle and the ocean half the Pacific away. But now, I’ll have an evening to mope.

  Except when I turn the key in the door, I’m greeted by a distinct smell that wasn’t here when I left at the ass-crack of dawn this morning. A familiar, male fragrance. Unless my head is fucking with me…

  “Rey!”

  He’s lounging on my couch, feet up on the coffee table, scrolling through his smartphone, dark brows knit in displeasure. When he looks up at me, the expression of consternation flees, replaced by a beloved white smile.

  “Honey, you’re home. How was your day?”

  “I thought we were going to talk on the phone.”

  He shrugs his broad shoulders and strides over to take me up in a hug. Ah, comfort. I hadn’t had time to dwell on it while I was in Kona, but it’s been too long since I’ve seen him. I feel an empty space in my chest fill up with him. My Rey Tank’s been running on empty, and now it’s being topped off with one-hundred-percent, high-test Reyes Walter affection. He ruffles my hair and holds me close, cradling the back of my head.

  “I missed you. It’s been too long. Also, you have a harder time keeping things from me when I see you in person and I want the whole scoop.”

  My arms tighten around his ribcage, and I burrow further into his chest, my eyes welling with stupid tears. Fuck the apartment. This body, this voice, this scent, this embrace—these are my home.

  We order takeout from my favorite Chinese greasy spoon—two orders of the best fried pork dumplings in the city for me and beef and broccoli for Rey. I debrief him on my stay in Kona while we navigate our meals with chopsticks.

  “Cris is doing better?”

  “Yeah, he can’t
wait to get back on his board.” I shiver at the thought: Crispin being dragged under, tossed around in violent waves, dashed against coral and rocks, not being able to breathe. “But it’ll be a while before he’s up to it. Vera’s a great nurse, but she’s atrocious in the kitchen and you can imagine how he feels about that. Mary’s going to bring lunch a few days this week, and I put some meals in the freezer. I’m hoping that’ll hold him over until I can get back. I was planning to fly out on Friday, but I have so much to catch up on. I’d rather wait until next week, but I told Cris I’d be there. He’s already unhappy about me being gone.”

  Rey’s side-eyeing me and stuffing another chopstick load of broccoli into his mouth.

  “What?”

  “You’re caring about other people more than you usually do.”

  “Shut your pretty face, Walter.”

  “I’m just saying—”

  “Well, don’t.”

  “It’s okay to like someone, India.”

  I shake my head and swallow a sudden lump in my throat. Must’ve been too much ginger in that last bite of dumpling. My nasal passages are burning like I snorted pool water.

  I wasn’t lying when I told Crispin I loved him. I do. But it’s not safe. The panic and terror that gripped me when I got Mary’s call… That feeling alone is reason enough to limit your attachment to anyone. Never mind that now Crispin has expectations of me and I’ll have to deal with the fallout when I don’t meet them. I check my watch and see it’s getting on midnight. I should call him; he must be worried already. And this is what I’m talking about.

  “Being afraid doesn’t mean you’re doing it wrong. In your case, it might mean doing something right.”

  “Thanks, Dr. Phil. If you’re finished giving me advice I didn’t ask for, I have a phone call to make.”