Complete Me (Bound to You Book 3)

by Jane Henry

  “Better make sure these are the only cheeks burning hot today,” she thought to herself, giggling all the way.

  Yes, Paolo being Meredith’s dominant, and Meredith his submissive, was still new. They were learning their roles, and incorporating discipline and structure into their relationship, both in and out of the bedroom. But this was the man she’d been with for decades. The man she’d raised a child with. Though he was her dominant now, he was still her lover, and her best friend.

  The visit would work out fine.

  ***

  Paolo sat back in his chair, taking a long pull from the beer Caleb brought. Shit, this stuff was good. Paolo made note of one particular brand, which Caleb said he was destined to try because it was called Omnipollo.

  “Sounds like the omnipotent Paolo,” Kirstin joked, her green eyes shining at him, her red hair piled atop her head and making her look young and coy.

  “I’ll take it,” Paolo said, amidst laughter, as Caleb popped the top and gave it to him. Caleb was a few years younger than Paolo, dark-skinned and handsome, with dark brown eyes, short hair and a well-kept beard. He’d brought Kirstin to their house on the back of his Harley, both of them sporting leather jackets and wind-whipped cheeks when they arrived. Caleb had opened a backpack cooler he’d been wearing which was filled with imported beer Paolo had never even heard of. Paolo already liked him because he treated Meredith’s friend Kirstin so well. The backpack of imported brew sealed the deal.

  Paolo’s eyes rolled back in his head as he took a swig from a brew Caleb told him he had to have.

  “Where’s this from again?” Paolo asked.

  “Sweden,” Caleb said. “These guys know what they’re doing, and there’s a local vendor near me who only sells specialty brews. He gives this to me at wholesale.”

  Paolo had nodded to Meredith. “Babe, you get the info from Kirstin.”

  She nodded with a smile. “I’m on it.”

  He’d given her subtle instructions here and there, and she’d behaved beautifully.

  Caleb took a swig himself, clearly pleased that someone appreciated the stuff as much as he did. Paolo enjoyed talking to Caleb, and liked the fact that he could carry on a conversation about football as easily as he could discuss the cabinetry work Robbie and Paolo had been working on. Caleb had a friend back in California who was a carpenter, and he’d helped him do odd jobs here and there to pad his income.

  But what Paolo watched more keenly—unbeknownst to Caleb—was how he treated Kirstin. You could tell a lot about a man with the way he treated his woman, and it mattered to Paolo how Caleb treated Kirstin, because Kirstin was tight with Meredith. And from what Paolo could see, Caleb was a good man. He held Kirstin’s hand, and when he asked her to get him something from the cooler, he rested his hand on her lower back and asked her politely. These two were into each other. Paolo could tell by the way they looked at each other, and how they spoke to each other with respect, they had a clear camaraderie. Shit, this guy was way better to hang with than her asshole ex.

  Meredith’s brother Robbie reached for a beer, and Caleb gladly passed one over.

  “You all ready for dessert?” Meredith asked, rising to her feet. She’d made a strawberry shortcake topped with billowy whipped cream that Paolo was dying for, Kirstin had brought cupcakes from the local bakery, and Robbie’s girlfriend—a quiet, but sweet, petite little woman named Cindy—had brought a tray of brownies topped with walnuts and chocolate chips. Hell, yeah, he was ready for dessert. Cindy stood.

  “Sounds perfect, baby,” Paolo said, as he wheeled away from the patio table and gestured for her to come over to him, while the others resumed the conversation.

  Meredith obediently leaned over and put her ear next to Paolo’s mouth.

  “You’re being a good girl today,” he said, and her eyes lowered, a soft smile playing on her lips.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I think this is going really well. I see you’re bossing everyone around and not just me,” she teased.

  “Naturally,” he quipped with a chuckle. “Everyone’s having a blast. And I love that you’re behaving yourself so well. You’ll be rewarded for this tonight, baby,” he said. “I’ll show you what happens to good girls who do as they’re told.” Her eyes flitted to the group. Paolo smiled. Meredith could be such a prude sometimes, and there was no possible way anyone could’ve heard. But he’d turned her on. He could tell by the slight flush of her cheeks and the way she shifted her feet. He loved that he could do that to her with merely a whispered promise.

  “I’d like that,” she whispered back.

  He was tempted to give her a teasing swat, but he’d go easy on her. Instead, he rested his hand just below her lower back and gave a low instruction. “Go get dessert, honey. But when you come back, you serve me first. I want a good portion of strawberry shortcake. Got it?”

  She nodded, smiled, whispered “yes, sir” in his ear, and went off to the kitchen.

  It wasn’t so much that he was keen on being served first, so much as he wanted to keep an even keel, make sure she remembered her place and who she obeyed. Even though she resisted—even though at times it was fucking hard, and she pushed back—he knew she needed him to be stern. She thrived on his dominance, yearned to be told what to do, and the fight within her, learning to control her own temper, her own will, and learning to allow herself to be led, was part of what made the power exchange beautiful. If it had been easy, he wouldn’t take so much pleasure in seeing her nod her head with a whispered “yes, sir” or watching her lower herself over his lap to be corrected. Welcoming his instruction and presenting herself to him to be led was beautiful to him.

  Exchange of power. It wasn’t about him taking the lead. It was about her granting it to him. It was the challenge in it that Paolo rode. It was seeing the struggle within her, the way she fought and railed against him sometimes, and then seeing her yield despite the temptation to resist, that turned him on. When she’d sworn in the kitchen, it was all he could do to maintain his composure, remain stern and in control of himself as he administered her punishment, instead of taking her right then and there. Her immediate flare of anger, the shame in her eyes when she turned to face him, the way she swallowed when his hands went to his buckle. And hell, but the way she yelped and squirmed and reddened as he spanked her made him hard. It was an exchange.

  The way she gave that to him made him feel like a fucking king. Seeing her tucked into his side at night, knowing that he was meeting her needs in spades fueled him to continue, her need to be protected and led dovetailing perfectly with his innate need to protect and lead. It felt right, and natural, to lead her like this. And though at times it was difficult, he was up for the challenge.

  When he returned to the table, Cindy was telling Caleb and Kirstin about a live cooking battle she’d seen filmed in a diner down the street from her house, but Robbie was leaning back in his chair, taking it all in, a beer pressed up to his lips, and his eyes on Paolo. Paolo knew, just by the way Robbie was looking at him, that he’d witnessed the exchange with Meredith.

  “You’re good to her,” Robbie said. Paolo looked at him in surprise. Decades of marriage to Robbie’s sister, and never had they talked about their relationship. It was just something that was understood; Paolo was Robbie’s friend, and had been since high school. When Paolo first met Meredith, he was working on her mama’s front porch and she’d sit curled up nearby, supposedly reading a book. But he knew she rarely turned the page. He’d talk to her, about home, and family, and he found her a ready companion. She was easy to talk to, funny, and sweet, and she was gorgeous. Paolo had asked Robbie before he asked Meredith out on a date, and at first, Robbie had been wary but approving. Best man at the wedding, godfather to their son, and he’d seen it all. The lean years early on. The accident. Paolo’s retreat.

  After the accident, when Paolo had been injured and wheelchair bound, he’d pulled back from everyone in his life—his friends, including Robbie, and most
especially Meredith. Losing the ability to walk was a devastating loss and he retreated from the world.

  Robbie had never said a word to Paolo. Not one word. He’d come over and coax him into going out, grabbing a burger, or ask him for advice on a new project he was working on. And even then, Robbie did not talk about Meredith and Paolo. Their marriage was sacred ground. They both knew he felt that way, and were thankful he respected that.

  Robbie’s eyes were distant, looking over Paolo’s shoulder. His voice low to maintain the privacy of the conversation, as he continued.

  “That was hard on her, Paolo. I know it was. The whole thing. Not just the accident and thinking she would lose you, but all the changes that happened after. Killed me to see you two pushed apart like that.” Paolo took another swig of his beer and said nothing, but he listened. He’d known how that shit had driven them apart, and he also knew Robbie had a right to say his piece.

  “Don’t know what’s changed,” Robbie said quietly. “All I’ve got to say is, it’s good. Whatever you’re doing, it’s good.” His eyes met Paolo’s. “She’s happy again,” he said, low enough only Paolo could hear. “And so are you.”

  Paolo gave a curt nod. They said no more. But he heard it, in the tone of his voice and what he said, Paolo heard the implied meaning. You’ve made things better again. Keep doing what you’re doing. Take care of her.

  He would. Until the day he stopped drawing breath, he would.

  ***

  She sat at on the sofa, legs tucked up under her, wearing nothing but Paolo’s t-shirt. She was sated. Their company had gone home, and the two of them had cleaned up. He’d taken her to their bedroom, put her over his lap and given her one of those slow, steady, sexy as all hell spankings that were meant to center her.

  “Stress relief” some called it, though Paolo had no name for whatever he did. He simply ordered her to come to him after a long day, and he’d pat his lap. Her mouth would go dry when he patted his lap. She knew it wasn’t punishment—she always knew when she’d done something deserving of punishment, and she did not feel the giddy anticipation she did when he patted his lap for her to come to him. When she was about to be punished, her heart pounded, nerves on end, and the mere look in his eyes would cause her to quake. It was necessary, though, she knew this. If his punishing her was supposed to have the effect of modifying her behavior—and both she and Paolo welcomed this arrangement—then it was only natural to feel dread before he punished her. But patting his lap, welcoming her to come over and leave whatever troubled her over his knees, felt far different.

  “Over my knee,” he’d say, and the minute her belly hit his lap, the first layer of tension would diminish. It was the act of surrender that caused the first peeling away of stress, before his palm ever touched her. Over his knee. Her belly would rest on his lap, and as her breath left her, so did the tension. He spanked her, slow, steady, firm swats as his hand connected with bare skin, hard enough the breath hissed out of her, but slow and steady enough she could take it. She’d feel the sting and flinch, but then the warmth would spread, first over the surface of her skin, but then through her body, like warm water trickling over her. Her mind would ease, the tension of the day leaving her in waves, until she was calm, limp as a rag doll over his lap. Sometimes he’d pick her up and lay her down, and tuck her into bed. Sometimes he would be ready for much more, and she’d take it, every rough kiss, pull of the hair, and thrust of him claiming her. He’d been ready for more tonight.

  He’d taken her, brought her to climax, and when she came, she came hard.

  “Phew,” she said, still panting, her legs numb, arms still tingling, backside sore, but in a good way. “That was hot.”

  “Damn right,” he said. “Cold beer, steak on the grill, good friends, wife over my knee, came hard. Yeah. Good day, baby.”

  Meredith laughed like a little girl. Often she’d want to fall into bed exhausted, but she was strangely invigorated. She felt immense relief. They’d hosted a party, and he hadn’t spanked her in front of everyone—not that she really thought he would, but still, she had some irrational fears there. Kirstin had plans to stop by the following night, and Meredith felt at ease with it instead of feeling nervous that their space was being invaded.

  Paolo had retreated to his book, and she’d asked permission to go online. He’d granted permission, with a casual reminder to leave the laptop out so he could check when she was done. It was the way he did things, and it didn’t bother her anymore. She knew now that he didn’t check up on her online because he didn’t trust her. It was because he liked to keep a read on her emotional wellbeing, and to keep a steady fix on the tenor of her relationships with others. She hadn’t chatted with Little Lady in a while, and she was hoping she’d catch her. It would also be fun to cruise the forum a bit. She heard the ticking of the clock, and glanced at the time. Nine o’clock. She had to be in bed by ten, and she knew that he’d set his IPad to go off at ten. The reminder was for him, not her. If she wasn’t in bed when the timer went off, she knew no matter how exhausted he was, she’d be over his knee in a very different way. It had happened only a handful of times, but she knew now to be mindful of her bedtime.

  She pulled up her laptop, and the welcoming screen flashed on. She smiled. It seemed so long ago when she first found the forum. She was in such a different place, so very different. Back when she’d first begun reading—had it really been only a few months?—she was still enamored by the whole idea of dominance and submission, but her logical mind hadn’t allowed her to fully embrace the concept. She read about those who did practice it, and she had a hard time believing they were real.

  And now things were so different. Now she was living the experience, really fully living it, and it was far more challenging, far more difficult, but so much more fulfilling and exciting than she could’ve imagined. She looked fondly on the forum as her screen booted. She was thankful for having found it. It was a relief to know that others were just like her, submissives and dominants alike that had given her guidance and advice, while at the same time accepting who she was and what she wanted from the dynamic. And Little Lady was a good friend. How she longed to meet her mentor-friend and her husband Winston face-to-face.

  Her screen lit up.

  Bonita!

  Meredith smiled. Little Lady.

  How nice to see you here tonight, Little Lady. I have until ten this evening. How about you?

  I don’t have a time limit tonight. Master Winston is beside me, and when he says to say good night, my time is up.

  Meredith quirked an eyebrow. Winston sure did like that power thing.

  Well then we’d better type quickly before he gets any ideas.

  LOL Yeah tell me about it. So how was your day?

  Meredith smiled, and filled Little Lady in. After she’d told her about her day, Meredith asked the question she’d been pondering.

  Little Lady, when you have company over to your house, do people notice Winston being bossy? Does anyone ever question?

  It can’t be hidden, Bonita. People who visit here know who’s in charge, but no one ever says anything to us, likely because they know how happy we are, and that what we have works.

  Her answer surprised Meredith. Did others know? Meredith decided to ask.

  So they know you are submissive to him?

  They know he’s in charge. Others have surely seen me submit. But I know better than to question him in front of others. I’ve learned my lesson the hard way there. And we don’t offer details. For example, there’s no need for my mom to know that he punishes me if I disobey him. But she does know I won’t make plans without consulting him, and that he has the right to tell me yes or no, and that I do not raise my voice to him or contradict him.

  And she doesn’t think he’s an overbearing ogre?

  Frankly, I don’t really care what she thinks.

  Meredith paused. Did she really care what other people thought? Well, yeah, it still did bother her to think that o
thers would think Paolo was abusive, or that she had no mind or will of her own. There was so much more to it than that. How could she explain how the way he watched over her made her feel cared for and loved, and that she adored how she was the center of his universe? How could she explain the primal, erotic attraction to his being in charge, and even the desire to not only be dominated, but punished by him?

  She wished she had the confidence Little Lady had.

  I’m not there yet. I still care very much what other people think.

  You’re still learning how to obey him, Bonita. Over time, you may not care as much about what others think. It will likely become far more natural.

  Meredith paused. Would she really feel like that? She wanted to submit naturally and have the peace that Little Lady had.

  And I won’t disobey him? I won’t talk back? We won’t fight anymore?

  Oh, you’ll still make mistakes. You’re not perfect, and neither is he. But… well, I can’t predict if you’ll still fight, but we don’t fight because he always wins LOL.

  Ha! This is true. You and Winston never fight?

  We have a great deal of harmony in our relationship. But if what you mean by fighting is both of us raising our voices, or getting angry? Maybe storming off, with heated words? No. Never. The most that happens is occasionally I may fight back against something he asks of me, and I end up being put back in my place. Sometimes he may say something off the cuff that stings, or he may fail to meet one of my needs, but after a short time, he always recognizes that and apologizes.

  Meredith thought about that.

  You don’t point that out to him?

  If I need to, I do it quietly and respectfully, and he gets that.

  It sounds like you always get along.

  Not always, but most of the time, yes, we are completely in tune with one another. But it’s not perfection, Bonita. Perfection isn’t possible. And it’s not a good idea to compare you two to us. Things will happen when they’re meant to with you two, and different factors will contribute to how and when those changes happen.