My Storm

by Tiffany Patterson

  I sigh and look down at the frail woman in the bed, sleeping comfortably. Rubbing my hand along my chin contemplatively, I try to muster up the anger and hatred I felt for her for so many years. To my surprise, it’s no longer there. Sure, the pain of being left never really goes away, but the flame of anger that used to burn deep in my gut just isn’t there. Angling my head to look down at Tasha who is gripping my hand, I gaze into those light brown pools and know that it’s her presence that has doused that fire. Slowly, I nod. “Okay,” I say. “Okay.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Tasha

  “Okay, Trudy. I’ll remember. I promise I will be there this Thursday.” My frown grows as I hear the pleading nature in her voice. “Are you sure you’re okay?” I ask for the second time.

  “Yeah, I’m good,” she responds, but even over the phone I can sense the hesitation in her voice.

  “Trudy, don’t tell me what I want to hear,” I insist, feeling a bit worried, but peeking over my shoulder at the woman resting in the bed. “Are you sure you’re okay? Do you need me to do anything for you?” I may be watching Jeremy’s mother right now, but I would call the night nurse in early if Trudy needed me.

  “I’m fine, Ms. Tasha. I just, I missed you this week. That’s all. The book club ain’t the same without you.”

  There’s a tug at my heartstrings as I smile. “I missed you too. I promise I’ll be there this Thursday and you can call me anytime you need something okay?”

  “Yeah, I remember.”

  “I have to go, but don’t forget what I said.”

  “A’ight, bye.”

  When I hang up I place my phone on the dresser in the bedroom and step back over to the bed. I think Jeremy’s mom is sleeping until she begins to talk.

  “You’re good for him.”

  My brows shoot up, wondering if what I heard was correct since it was slightly mumbled. “I’m sorry?”

  “For my son… He’s tough. He’s had to be. Lord knows he didn’t have a real mother.” She snorts. “I know I wasn’t the mother he deserved. And I know how that type of shit can mess up a person, especially when it comes to relationships. Hell, my own life is proof of that.”

  By now she’s looking directly at me, her brown eyes glittering with intensity I’ve never seen before in the few weeks I’ve known her.

  “Neither of my parents gave a damn. I didn’t know how to be anyone’s mom. Giving Jeremy up was the second best thing I ever did. Finally, telling his daddy about him was the best thing I ever did. He didn’t give a damn about me, but the man loved that boy to death. He did right by him too,” she says, her eyes darting around the room.

  I remain silent, not wanting to interrupt her. Somehow, I can tell this has been weighing on her for a long time. I wonder if this is the real reason why she came back into Jeremy’s life once she knew her health situation was terminal. I know she hasn’t said any of this to Jeremy yet. She’s been here for about two weeks now, and most days when one of the nurses isn’t here, I’m here with her, making sure she has what she needs. Jeremy comes home in the evenings from work, pops in on her for a few minutes to ask how she’s doing, and drags me out to spend the rest of the night with him. Don’t get me wrong, I love every second of my time with him, but I think he may be avoiding a very necessary conversation with his mother.

  “I won’t burden you anymore with my random musings about my sorry state of motherhood. Tell me where you’re up to in your story.”

  I release a breath, relieved by the change in conversation. For the past few weeks, I’ve been working on my writing and edits here at Jeremy’s and when she found out I was an author, she asked me about my books. Since then I’ve been reading her excerpts from my published books and the one I’m currently working on. We spend the next thirty minutes talking about my stories until I hear the alarm go off, alerting me that Jeremy has entered the front door downstairs. I try to hide my grin as goose bumps appear on my arms.

  A minute later, he knocks on the door and opens at the same time. His green eyes bounce around the room until he zeroes in on his mother first. I see sadness clearly present in his gaze. He lingers on her for a few moments and then turns his gaze onto me. Something in his eyes changes. The usual warmth spreads over me as he takes in every part of my face. Despite his welcoming gaze, the deepened lines around his eyes and the sheer intensity of his gaze tells me his need before he opens his mouth to speak.

  “Good evening.” He nods toward his mother. “How’re you feeling today?” His tone is polite but distant, which is normal whenever he speaks directly to her.

  “As well as can be expected.” She nods.

  “I’ll let you two talk for a few,” I interject, attempting to exit to give them some privacy. As usual, Jeremy grabs my wrist as I try to pass and holds me in place. He looks down at me silently, conveying I’m not to go anywhere. My protest dies on my lips as usual and I nod slowly.

  “Have you eaten dinner?” he asks his mother.

  “Yes. Tasha made the most delicious chicken noodle soup. I could only eat some of the vegetables and the broth, but it was delicious.” She smiles faintly.

  Jeremy’s grip tightens around my wrist. He squeezes me, but it’s not uncomfortable for me. I sense it’s reflexively as he too noticed again for the umpteenth time the sickly state of his mother.

  “All right, we’ll be back in a little while to check on you. Get some rest,” he suggests, stepping toward the door as he pulls me along with him.

  Once outside the room, Jeremy releases my wrist to allow me to turn and quietly shut the door. Before it’s even fully shut, I feel him pressed against my back, his arms wrapped tightly around my waist. His grasp is so secure that I can’t even turn around.

  “I need you,” he whispers in my ear.

  My eyelids flutter shut only to fly open as I feel his teeth sink into my shoulder.

  “Now.”

  My entire body trembles with the same need for him as he begins licking the spot he just bit, soothing the pain into a euphoric pleasure. I allow my body to melt into his embrace as he turns us toward the stairs. Although his bedroom is only a few doors down, out of respect for his mother, we’ve temporarily taken over the playroom as our bedroom. Jeremy has assured me she can’t hear us from down there, but I’m still not sure if I completely believe him. Thankfully, if she has heard us, she hasn’t mentioned anything about it. I’m not sure I could handle that level of embarrassment.

  “Are you okay?” I ask him what has obviously become a theme for the day—me worrying about the people in my life.

  “Are you wearing them?” he asks, ignoring my question. His fingers are already unbuttoning my blouse.

  “Wearing what?”

  “The Ben Wa balls,” he says as if I’m the crazy one for not knowing what he’s talking about.

  “Jeremy!” I clap back, sharply. “How do you expect me to wear them while I’m taking care of your mother? Are you insane?” I ask at the same time he practically rips my shirt off, leaving me in just my bra on my top half.

  He frowns, unperturbed. “Probably,” he has the nerve to answer. “My sub not following directions doesn’t help my sanity. Are you not supposed to wear them every other day this week?” he scolds.

  “Yes, but—”

  “Yes, what?”

  I close my eyes and inhale in a deep breath. This crazy man… “Yes, sir,” I answer and open my eyes. “But I’ve been busy with your moth—”

  “That’s the same excuse you had two days ago.” His tone is unforgiving, as he begins pushing my leggings down my hips and dragging my panties with them.

  “Jer-Sir,” I try to reason only to be stopped by another bite on the shoulder.

  “You don’t have permission to speak, love,” he growls.

  I close my eyes and inhale again, trying to regain control over all of the feelings coursing through my body. I could tell when he first walked in the room upstairs he was in a mood, and now, my failure to wea
r the Ben Wa balls has given him all the ammunition he needs to punish me. My nipples harden as the range of possible punishments flow through my mind. I open my eyes and stare at Jeremy who is now giving me a cold look. I attempt to shut them again, but I’m quickly flipped over onto all fours on the bed. A gasp escapes my throat and I have to quickly clamp down on the urge to scream. What the hell?! Jeremy’s big body is behind me, kneeing my legs even further apart, exposing all of me to him. My insides begin to tremble with that feeling of vulnerability this man causes in me. Even in the darkest period of my life, I’ve never felt as vulnerable and exposed as I do with him in these moments. But unlike those times, I also feel safe, knowing somehow that he’d never go too far with me or that I couldn’t handle whatever punishment he’ll inflict.

  Suddenly, my head is yanked back, causing my back to arch even more in this position.

  “Don’t move. Stay just like this,” he orders and then moves from the bed.

  I tighten my eyelids as I hear him rummaging through the closet that houses his many floggers. Oh shit! I tighten my grip on the sheets, wondering which flogger he’ll choose for this occasion. I hear his footsteps returning from the closet and continue to hold my eyelids shut, but trying to listen carefully as he approaches. I anticipate his next move.

  “Didn’t I tell you, you’re to wear the Ben Wa balls every other day this week?” A slashing sound fills the room and I instantly feel a sharp pain on my right ass.

  Holy shit! My grip tightens even more on the sheets, my only course of reprieve from the intense feeling on my rear end.

  “I asked you a question!”

  I feel another sting, but this time it’s on the left side. “Y-yes, sir.” My voice is already trembling.

  “Then why….” whap! “...when I come…” whap! “...in from work…” whap! “...I discover my sub…” whap! “...is not following…” whap! “...my directions!” Whap! Whap!

  There’s no way he expects me to answer that question, right? I can’t even think at the moment as the stinging pain from the flogger invades my entire body, slowly dissolving into an ache that somehow manages to turn into a throbbing need. My pussy muscles are aching to be taken, even though up until now he has managed to avoid making contact with that area. My buttocks and the backs of my thighs are on fire from his repeated lashes.

  “I’m waiting for an answer.” His breathless voice reaches my ears, coldly.

  “I-I didn’t think it was appropriate considering…” I trail off, unable to speak anymore. My entire body is still vibrating, and he wants to have an honest-to-God conversation.

  “Considering what, love?”

  I squeeze my eyelids tighter in frustration. I’m frustrated that the answer should be obvious. He knows I’d feel uncomfortable as hell wearing those things as I care for his mother. Of course he knows, but clearly does not give a fuck.

  “Considering what!?”

  “I’m caring for your mother!” I yell.

  Whap!

  “Dammit!” I yell as my back arches even more from the sting of the flogger.

  “So, your discomfort around my mother is more important than your obligation to me?”

  My eyes fly open. What? “No!” I snap forcefully. “I just—”

  “Just what!?” Whap!

  God dammit! I’m not sure how much more of that damn flogger I can take.

  Whap! “We can do this all night!” he growls before striking me yet again.

  Even though I can hear the anger in his voice, I also hear his vulnerability. I know this is more about the stupid balls. He’s testing me to see how committed I am to him as my Dom and my lover.

  I let out a shuddering breath. “I-I’m sorry. I’ll wear them,” I finally declare. As soon as the words leave my lips, I hear the flogger hit the hardwood floor and feel the bed compress as Jeremy climbs on.

  “Mmmm…” I moan as I feel his hard rod sink into my wetness, but I quickly cut myself off.

  “Let me hear you!” he growls, granting me permission to be as loud and vocal as I choose.

  I sigh in relief. The tenderness in my nether region from his whippings has incredibly sensitized me. Each of his strokes feel like he is hitting my womb. He knees my legs even further apart for better access, which I didn’t even think was possible until he starts digging into me even deeper. Jesus! This man is going to kill me. I’m sure of it in this moment.

  “Nooo!” I scream as he pulls out.

  His only response is a deep chuckle. His hands are on me, turning me over to lie on my back. “I want your legs on my shoulders so I can see you when I finally let you cum.”

  Somehow his words make my pussy become even wetter than before. With him I don’t even question how turned on I can get anymore. This is the man who gave me my first orgasm. My legs are perched high on his strong shoulders and I feel him lift my ass even higher. He places a pillow underneath it to angle my pussy even higher.

  “Oh shit! Je-Sir!” I yell as his stroke hits my G-spot. I reach for his arms that are now anchored on each side of my waist. I need something to hold onto as I feel my body losing its touch with reality and gravity. His grip on my waist tightens to the point of bruising, but all I can feel is the incredible pleasure he is delivering.

  “You’re mine!” That’s a declaration he’s made many times before. The fact that I’m his has never been in question since the first time I laid eyes on him. But his words cause the usual coil inside my body and I can’t put it off much longer.

  “P-per-mission to cum, sir?!” I beg.

  “No!”

  Anger permeates every part of my body just as much as the pleasure, and it only serves to heighten my need to climax.

  “P-please!” I ask again.

  “No!” he says as he pulls back, halting his relentless strokes for a moment to adjust my legs. Placing his hands underneath my thighs, he pushes them all the way back to meet my chest. Instinctively, I reach above my head, grabbing the bars of the headboard for leverage as Jeremy starts pounding me again with my legs pressed against my chest. I didn’t think it was possible to be this damn turned on. Every part of my body is sensitized, needing to release. My eyes roll to the back of my head and I try desperately to think of anything besides the way he is making my body feel.

  “Fuuck!” I hear him growl and I know he is close to cumming having prolonged his own orgasm in order to deny me mine. Mutual sacrifice is what he calls it.

  “S-sir!” I beg one last time.

  “Cum!” he yells as I feel his hot seed gushing into me.

  “Thank God!” I yell as shutters overtake my entire body.

  My grip tightens on the headboard. Somehow Jeremy continues to stroke through our orgasms. I shake and yell until I see stars before my eyes. Then everything finally goes black. I don’t know how long it takes me to come to. This isn’t the first time I’ve passed out after one of our encounters in this room. Every single time I do, I awake to a semi-worried Jeremy stroking my side as if he is comforting me out of a deep sleep. I grin as I look up into those green eyes, darkened by concern, lust, and something else. Wordlessly, he presses his lips to my forehead and pulls me in even closer.

  “How long was I out this time?”

  “Not long,” he simply says as he moves from the bed. I know he’s just going to get a damp cloth to wipe me down but I hate the sense of loss I feel.

  Seconds later, he returns and begins his usual process of inspecting my body to either ogle the marks he’s caused or make sure none are too deep or painful. I can’t begin to describe how comforting it is to know he takes that kind of consideration of me. Finally satisfied that I’m okay, he climbs back onto the bed, pulling me to him. Wanting to look at his handsome face, I turn so we are facing one another. I use my finger to trace his nose, lips, chin, down to his neck and the outline of the viper tattoo. I don’t know which I enjoy more, the actual memorizing contours of his body with my fingers or the fact that he lets me as he patiently watches me
as I commit every inch and angle of his body to memory. I use this time to garner the courage to address something that’s been on my mind for two weeks.

  “You need to talk to your mother,” I say.

  Jeremy’s eyes that had been half-closed bulge in surprise and then something else. “I talk to her every day,” he says, emotionless.

  “No, you don’t. You ask her how she’s feeling and if she’s eaten every day,” I remind him. “That’s not the same as talking to her.”

  “I don’t want to talk about this. It’s been a long day at work and—”

  “Too bad,” I insist. “She has things she wants to say to you. She makes comments to me. I think she’s afraid she won’t get a chance to say them to you so she talks to me, probably hoping that I’ll tell you for her.”

  “Things like what? What does she say?”

  I shake my head even before the question is fully out. “No. I won’t be the middle man here. You need to talk to her.”

  I can sense his growing frustration as his body stiffens. “Love, I said I don’t want to talk about this.”

  “And I said too bad. You need to hear what your mother has to say and you probably have some things to say to her.” I grasp his face in between my hands, waiting until his eyes lock on mine. “Say them to her.” I don’t release his face, so he knows how serious I am about this.

  His stern countenance eventually changes, his eyelids fluttering, showing his concession. With that, I release his face and reach up to place a kiss on his forehead. Unable to help myself, I leave a trail of kisses down his face until I reach his neck. Then I use my tongue to outline the end of the tattoo where it widens on his chest. Feeling his body relax, I push at his shoulder until he relaxes on his back. I sit up and allow the sheet to fall from me.

  “Permission to ride you, sir.” I question, my voice dropping to a seductive tone.

  The left side of his mouth kicks up into a lecherous grin. “Permission granted,” he says as he places his hands behind his head and angles himself to watch me.