by CD Reiss
“Back on your knees, beautiful,” I said when I was in front of her again.
She dropped. I put my fingers in her hair, and she kissed my belly. Fuck. I could practically feel her lips on my clit even though she was nowhere near it.
Then I realized how close she was to seeing where I had been hurt. I didn’t want her to see that. She’d know. Anyone who’d spent years as a Dominant would know. I scanned the room quickly. Her clothes were in a pile, including a red scarf. I stretched, grabbed it by the corner, and unwound it from the jacket
“Look at me.” I had to suppress the need to say please. I didn’t know where I’d gotten the compulsion to be courteous.
She looked up at me with her almond eyes, and I covered them with the scarf, knotting it behind her head.
I stepped back, halfway across the room, and sat on the floor. I bent my knees and spread my legs. “Crawl to me.”
She did, putting her head down, letting her breasts swing. God, the things I wanted to do to those tits.
“Eat my pussy. Just your mouth. Lick it up.”
She didn’t hesitate but turned her head and kissed my swollen clit, then she drew her tongue along it.
“Suck on it.”
She flicked her tongue over it then took it between her lips and sucked. I threw my head back. She licked again then sucked. My ass came off the floor. I was full, and ready, but more. I wanted more. More control.
I pushed her face away. “On your back.”
She rolled over, and I crouched over her, knees on either side of her head. Her lips parted and I felt exactly right.
“Take my face,” she said. “It’s yours.”
She opened her mouth, and I lowered myself onto it. “Take it. Eat it.”
I rubbed myself on her face as she tried to grapple for control enough to make me come, sucking and licking whatever I let near her, pulling away then making her drown in me, until I shifted back and put my clit in her mouth.
“Suck it hard.”
I landed on my hands as she pulled on my clit with her mouth, yanking a powerful orgasm out of me. I stiffened, clenched, rubbed myself on her face, and let go.
I crouched over her, panting.
God, how did Deacon do this?
He got the fuck up and made sure I got what I needed.
I stood, wobbly-legged, and moved the scarf off her eyes. “Bedroom’s that way. Crawl in and get up on the bed. You’re getting rewarded for that. Because it was awesome.”
She smiled, face slick and shiny from my cunt. She twisted onto her hands and knees and crawled to the bedroom, head down, toes dragging in the high heels, ass swaying. I walked behind her, feeling a peace I barely understood. She knew how to do this. She was going to do exactly what I asked. Everything was under my control.
When she got up on the bed, she crouched on hands and knees, and I pulled her up to kneeling and kissed her.
“Are you all right with this so far?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“I don’t have any equipment or anything.” I was expressing insecurity, and in the middle of the sentence, I realized what a complete buzzkill that would be for her. “So lean back and touch the headboard,” I recovered. “Don’t let it go.”
I pushed her legs up and apart, letting my fingers drift down her belly into her wetness.
“I always loved your cunt,” I said, putting two fingers into her. “It tasted like oranges.” I put my fingers in my mouth and sucked on them. “Still does.”
I reinserted them, then pulled them out with a swipe and a circle on her clit. Her eyes dropped, and her mouth opened.
“Here. Taste.” I put my wet fingers in her mouth.
She sucked on them. I dug them into her throat. Three fingers. I wanted to enter her through my hand. To own her inside and out.
I knew what he felt, all those times, and I knew why it was nourishing for this little bit of the world to be mine.
I shifted over her and put my leg against her cunt until I felt its wetness. She curled herself around my leg, and we moved together. She sucked on my fingers and I pushed against her in ever-increasing rhythms. She looked at me, face scrunched, waiting.
I moved harder and faster against her. How much longer could I make her wait? She wouldn’t come without me saying it was all right.
I wanted her to have the best orgasm of her life, so I made her wait as long as I could.
“Come,” I said.
And she did, fingertips on the headboard, body arching forward then back. I’d never heard Debbie cry out in pleasure, and I’d seen her come plenty of times. But she cried out for me.
I felt like the queen of the universe, and for a moment, no more, I felt worthy.
I kissed her mouth when it was done and held her tightly.
“Deacon sent you to show me what it was like to dominate someone,” I said.
“Yes.”
“Should it feel like playacting?”
She sighed. “No.”
“You knew I wasn’t a Domme when you came here.”
“Yes. But you know Deacon. You can’t reason with him.”
“So basically I’m just a horny perv?”
She laughed. “Yes. And you can do anything and go anywhere you want. That comes from me, not the Master.”
I rolled onto my back and looked at the ceiling. “Isn’t it funny… technically I could always do whatever I wanted, but I think now I really can. And it’s scary.”
“Freedom can be frightening,” she whispered, half asleep. “You’re only free to choose how you’re going to not be free.”
Had I been scared that whole time? Had I held myself back from doing things because I was afraid? I tried to put myself in the shoes of my younger self. Back in Carlton Prep, when they’d tried to place me in college and they suggested business, I thought they were saying something for the sake of saying it, and I’d felt the walls closing in. Once I chose something, I’d be trapped in it.
Was I trapped with Deacon? Was his freedom a lie?
I could live without him. In the vulnerable place between wakefulness and sleep, between the submissive I thought I was and the Domme I’d just tried to be, I saw the truth. I didn’t need him. But did I want him?
I was almost asleep when a voicemail came in.
Elliot.
This is the deal. You show up at my office at eight sharp or I’ll get you reassigned. There is no negotiation.
Relief filled the place where the last of the tension had been, as if a drain had opened in the bottom of me and the ugliness fell out. I only had to wait three hours to apologize.
CHAPTER 16.
elliot
“This is the deal. You show up at my office at eight sharp or I’ll get you reassigned. There is no negotiation.” I hung up before I could soften it or backpedal.
That was risky. She was as likely to make sure she never saw me again as she was to make an effort to ensure I stayed in her life. But I didn’t have any other cards to play. Threatening to put her back into Westonwood might give her exactly what she had been trying to get, if even subconsciously.
The clock said 7:58. Her call had come in seven hours ago.
I’d made the task of getting to the session on time almost impossible for my own sake as well as hers. I couldn’t live with her troubles and addictions. She’d ruin me. Calling her in at eight o’clock was self-preservation at its finest. She’d miss the appointment, I’d recuse myself from her care, and that would be it. I’d find a life somewhere in the rubble.
The little light behind my desk flashed.
Someone was in the waiting room.
Did I have another appointment?
I opened the door. She stood there, sunglasses on, smelling of soap, fingers twitching.
“Fiona.” I didn’t have anything more to say. I was overwhelmed with relief that she hadn’t let me push her away. I’d never wanted so badly for a plan to fail.
“Apologetic. Ashamed. Scared. Tired as hel
l,” she said.
“Excuse me?”
“I’m using different words to describe myself.”
CHAPTER 17.
fiona
I unloaded everything about the party, all its debasement and debauchery. I didn’t sugarcoat it. I was honest. I’d never been so honest in my life. I didn’t hold back a thing.
“My call,” I said. “It was… I’m sorry. I wanted to hurt you, and yes, I got high and stupid, and I lost interest in the whole thing. I think it was because you weren’t coming for me. It pissed me off, but it made me look at myself. And I was glad you weren’t coming.”
“So you went home?”
“Yes.”
“What did Deacon do?”
“What did he do? Well, let’s see. Apparently he was on his way to Eritrea, so he sent a mutual friend to fuck me?”
He raised an eyebrow.
“And I’m going to tell you what happened, but first I have to talk about the stupid thing I said to you yesterday and it was… did I say stupid?”
“What did you say?”
“I said I loved you. I think I meant it.” Fuck this. I wasn’t a high school kid with a crush. I was Fiona Fucking Drazen. “Actually, I know I meant it.”
He leaned forward, just a foot or so closer, and I felt the space between us contract and pull at me, as if I could lean forward another inch and close the gap.
“Transference,” he said. “It’s when the therapist fills a gap in your life that you recognize because of the therapy.”
I pressed my lips together and broke his gaze before it broke me. “Maybe. Sure. I was missing a therapist in my life and there you were.”
I sniffed. Stupid snot was gathering in my sinuses, and I had to sniff to get rid of it. I cleared my throat. Looked at my hands, then at him. I felt like an ass.
“I shouldn’t joke,” I said.
He smiled. “Countertransference is when the patient fills a place for the therapist.”
Breathe. Breathe. You have to function. Breathe.
“That sounds like normal people,” I said. “You know, with needs. They meet each other and they fill needs.”
“When you left Westonwood, I saw you by the door. I asked you to wait.”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t.”
“No.”
“Why?” He asked it as if he already knew the answer.
“I told you right there. I’ll destroy you. Men like you… you’re nice. I’d eat you up and spit you out. I’d fuck you and leave you and—look, this isn’t my ego talking. Nice guys don’t last in my world. Nice guys with boundaries and common sense? I’m not paying for your therapy bills.”
He laughed. I laughed.
Then he rubbed his eyes. “You knew how I felt. So you may feel vulnerable about what you said yesterday, but I opened that door. And the professional man in me regrets that.”
“What about the unprofessional man?”
It took him a long time to answer. Two hours. Two minutes. Time folded in on itself. Could have been no time at all. But I saw every single thought cross his mind. A war raged behind his eyes.
“I promised myself before you got here that I wouldn’t do this.”
I leaned forward, putting up my hand. “Don’t. You’re right. Don’t do this. I’m not worth it.”
He looked me dead in the face, his hair a little askew, an expression so certain that he could have told me black was white and I would have believed him.
“But you are. You’re worth all of it.”
I sat back in my chair. “What do you want?”
“This session is supposed to be about you.”
“That’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever said.”
“We’re even then. In saying stupid things that are true.”
“No. We’re not.”
Another two hours passed while he looked at me, and I fell into him. Maybe my feelings were transference, like he’d said, and maybe I was filling some gap in his life, but that didn’t make it a lie.
Maybe it did, and I just didn’t care.
As if we were pulled on the same string, he stood at the exact time I stood. He put his hand on my neck. I didn’t realize I was cold until I felt the warmth of it. I leaned into his touch because it was so gentle, so firm, and I let him pull us closer.
“This is wrong,” he said softly, as if giving it a name, accepting that name, and continuing.
I knew what he was doing, and I let him. Let his lips brush mine. Tasted the lemon water on his breath. Moved into the softness of his mouth, the wetness of his tongue as it entered me. His groan rumbled into my throat. I let him push our bodies together because I’d craved him from the minute I saw him. He understood me and he still wanted me, not in spite of my failings, but because of them.
I pushed my hips against him. He was hard. Very hard. Ready for it, and Fiona Drazen never turned down a hard cock. He pushed me against the wall, moving his mouth along my neck, his lips fire to the kindling of my skin.
I pushed him away, and we stood inches from each other, panting as if we’d run miles. I wasn’t ready. I wanted more from him, but I couldn’t expect anything yet. Not unless I wanted to ruin him.
“I can’t,” I said.
He smiled. “No. You can’t.” He kissed my cheek, lingering there, and I knew with a little prodding, I would have been on my back. Instead he whispered in my ear. “Not today.” He ran his finger along my jaw and down my throat, leaving a path of tingling skin. “There’s no looking back for me. So when I finally do what I’ve wanted to since I met you, that’s it. No more fucking around.”
I nodded and kissed him again. I didn’t feel whole because of him. I felt whole because I’d chosen him.
CHAPTER 18.
fiona
When I was a girl, I had one place where I felt at home. Where I didn’t feel eyes on me or pressure to be anything. I had to be perfect, but dressage had a set of rules for perfection I could follow easily and be done with when I got off the horse.
I got on the 110, down to Rancho Palos Verdes, where Snowcone lived. The smell of hay and horseshit was like home to me, and all the world slipped away.
“Hey!” I said when I saw Lindy arranging tack in front of the stables.
“Fiona!” She approached with a hug. “It’s so good to see you. You look great.” Lindy had Ivory Girl skin and straight brown hair she kept cut to the top of her shoulders. She hadn’t aged past thirty-five.
“Thanks.”
“I have the last of Snowcone’s things all put together.” She started walking inside, boots landing in a pile of mustard-colored horseshit. A true horse person, she didn’t even notice.
“Excuse me?” I said.
“I love that horse, but she’s yours, and you taking her is—”
“Taking her?”
“Did you guys get your signals crossed? Your boyfriend came and got her an hour ago. I went to see the Laurel Canyon space yesterday, and it’s perfect.”
“Yes,” I said. “Yes, of course it is. Thank you, Lindy. Thank you for everything.”
CHAPTER 19.
fiona
I had to remind myself why I was irritated with Deacon because I’d already forgiven him for taking Snowcone. I had nothing to offer my horse but neglect.
But that wasn’t the point. What the fuck was Deacon doing in Los Angeles? He couldn’t leave me alone for a minute. Who even knew what kind of clusterfuck he’d turned his back on in favor of watching me? Probably twenty journalists being held in a closet and his team was supposed to rescue them, but no. Fiona was on a bender. So he stayed to bring her horse to his stables.
Deacon was walking Snowcone around the pen. He was most comfortable in jeans and boots with a heavy button-down shirt. His forearms were wiry and taut, and his jeans hugged his hips as if they were made for him. Both he and Snowcone were well-muscled machines, and I sighed.
“Hey,” I said, falling into step with them. “I thought you had som
ething to do over there.” I jerked my head in the way I did when I meant Africa.
“It can wait.” He was full of shit.
“You couldn’t have gone there and back.”
“I didn’t go. I got off the plane before it took off.”
God. Fuck him.
“I’m mad at you.”
“Why?”
“I never agreed to let Snowcone move here. This pisses me off.”
“You don’t sound mad,” he said.
“I am.”
“You’re not. You’re relieved. You have an excuse to stay.”
He was so sure of himself. So measured. There wasn’t a woman in the world who wouldn’t fuck him, so why should I be any different?
“Does everything always make sense to you? Like, you want to keep me here, so you find a way to do it and that’s that? I mean, I don’t even know what I want, so you just think, ‘oh, let me want something for her’? Is that what goes on in your mind? Is that your power trip?”
“Stop pretending you don’t want to stay with me.”
“I don’t know what I want.”
He stopped, yanking Snowcone back. “You want to be here, and you need to be here. When you leave, you party. When you party—”
“I stabbed you to get away from you!”
“You didn’t stab me. The drugs did.”
I pushed him. He didn’t budge, but I pushed him again. I wanted to wake him up, to show him what he wasn’t looking at. “You trapped me. You trap me with shit like this.” I pointed at my horse.
“By being perfect for you?”
“By letting me run around like a whore.”
“That’s not what it was, and you know it.”
“By being perfect for all of my worst impulses.”
“They’re a part of you. What do you think you’re going to do now? Settle down in a ranch house in the Valley with a disgraced therapist? Have two kids and take Valium and fuck the pool boy behind his back?” His face jutted forward and his arm was thrown back, pointing at an imaginary house in a real suburb. “You’re better than that.”
“I’m not. I’m not even good enough for him.” I swallowed, because I hadn’t meant to say that. Not “for him,” but my emotions had swarmed until there was no stopping the words.