The Collar

by Tara Sue Me

  “Dirty fuck and sore ass. Not too bad. I’ve said worse.”

  “And you called me ‘Master.’”

  She stiffened in shock. “Fuck.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I know how out of it you get when you’re tired.” He pushed back from the table, a determined expression on his face. “I did promise to check out your ass this morning, however.”

  Hurrying to the table, she sat down. “No worries. My ass is fine.”

  She couldn’t explain why, but she knew she’d be mortified for him to look at her backside.

  “I still need to look.”

  “No one else I’d play with would.”

  “Number one, I’m not anyone else. Number two, they damn well should. And number three, come here and let me see and I won’t make you get over my knee.”

  When she wore his collar, he’d always made her come over his knee the morning after a hard spanking. “I told you I wouldn’t be submissive in your house.”

  “I’m not asking you to be a submissive. I’m telling you, as the Dom who spanked you, that I need to check your ass.”

  “Kinda sounds like the same thing.”

  His sigh was heavy and sad. “Does the arguing ever get to you? Because it sure as hell wears me out.”

  “I told you this was a bad idea.” He’d called it correctly once before: in the playroom they were fine, but once they stepped outside, they were toxic.

  “And my other choice is what? Take my chances some maniac wrote you a note just because he was bored?” He shoved his hand through his hair. “This isn’t forever—just until we get to the bottom of everything. Let’s try not to hurt each other any more than we already have.”

  His eyes pleaded with her, and something inside of her softened. Surely she could do this. He was only acting out of his feelings for her. As much as they could claim otherwise, he wouldn’t move anyone else into his house to keep them safe. He was too private and enjoyed his own space too much.

  True, he would probably check anyone’s skin the day after giving them a spanking like he’d given her. But then again, that was just the kind of man he was.

  She put her coffee mug down and pushed back from the table. Because she didn’t have any other clothes, she still had his T-shirt on and nothing underneath.

  It’s no big deal, she told herself. He’s seen you naked plenty of times.

  Turning her back to him, she lifted the hem of the shirt and closed her eyes tightly. Last night at the party had been one thing; in his kitchen the next morning was different. But he was right; they should try to get along for the few weeks or however long it ended up being.

  “Looks good,” he said. “You can go ahead and sit down to eat.”

  “Good? That all you have? I have a great ass. Work out five days a week to keep it that way.”

  He took the olive branch for what it was and slapped her butt. “Yes, you have a mighty fine ass. Always did. Have a seat and I’ll fix you a plate.”

  Jeff had always been the one to cook when they were together. He’d taught himself as a young child when he’d figured out that if he was going to eat, he’d have to be the one to prepare it. Dena, on the other hand, grew up with a personal chef and never learned how.

  “Never understood how you could cook such a delicious breakfast and suck so much at making coffee,” she said as he placed a plate of eggs, sausage, and toast in front of her. “Seriously, it’s like drinking tar.”

  “You drink a lot of tar?”

  “Only when I have breakfast at your place.” She ate a bite of sausage. “Damn, I can’t remember the last real breakfast I ate.”

  “Plenty more if you want it.”

  “This is good.”

  He refilled his coffee and sat across from her, silently keeping her company while she ate.

  She waited until she’d finished most of her breakfast before asking, “Why all the boxes?”

  He took a deep breath. “I’m going to Colorado for a while to help my dad prepare for retirement.”

  Her fork slipped from her hand and clanged against the plate. “What? Why? You hate Colorado.”

  He shrugged. “It’s not forever—just to get him settled.”

  But still. It wouldn’t be Wilmington without Jeff. Though they had broken up, there was still something inside her that needed to see him. Wanted to see him. Even when he played with other women, at least she was aware of what he was doing and whom he was with.

  Her body shook. Jeff was moving. Across the country.

  “It won’t be for a long time,” he repeated, but softer this time. “I’m going to help him wrap up the business.”

  “You’re going to sell insurance?”

  “That’s what Daniel said. Why is it so hard to believe I’d sell insurance?” He was attempting to put a humorous spin on the situation, but he couldn’t make his tone light enough to match his words.

  “Probably because you’d scare the hell out of your customers with that scowl of yours.” She couldn’t believe she was joking about it. Jeff was moving, and she sat calmly at his table.

  Because she knew if she didn’t laugh, she’d cry.

  “It felt like something I needed to do,” he said.

  “When?”

  “Supposed to have been next weekend, but I called and told Dad I’d be delayed.”

  The breakfast she’d eaten sat like a rock in her belly. “Because of me.”

  “Yes.”

  She couldn’t tell him she was sorry, because that would be a lie and she didn’t want to lie to Jeff. “Were you going to tell me good-bye?” she whispered over the lump in her throat instead.

  Something she couldn’t make out lurked behind his expression. “Of course I was.”

  After breakfast, they took his truck first to Daniel’s to pick up her car and then to her apartment to get her things. Jeff stayed with her while she packed, but he was quiet. The tension between them was back. Whatever tiny bit of frivolity they had managed to find had fled when he’d told her he was moving.

  By midafternoon she’d made herself as comfortable as possible in Jeff’s guest room. She’d brought over enough clothes for two weeks and all her active client files. Bentley, not pleased with the sudden upheaval, had taken up residence under Jeff’s bed.

  “Probably pissed about that name,” Jeff had said in a rare moment of teasing. “Who names a cat Bentley?”

  “This from the man with dogs named Ace and Bo. Bo? Would a little bit of originality kill you?”

  He’d shrugged. “He looked like a Bo.”

  She spent the rest of the day reviewing work files in a corner of his living room. She’d noticed the small desk shortly after breakfast and had quickly claimed it. Without Jeff to remind her, she probably would have worked through dinner, but the enticing smells coming from the kitchen dragged her from her files.

  After dinner she was back at it. Time flew by, and she didn’t realize how late it was until Jeff quietly placed a glass of chocolate milk on the edge of the desk. Her heart clenched. So many people saw him as quiet and standoffish, but she knew the man under the gruff exterior.

  Who would know him in Colorado?

  “Thank you, Sir,” she said. “I can’t remember the last time I had some.”

  “You’re welcome. I want … I want to make this as easy on you as possible.”

  “I appreciate that.” She glanced down at her calendar and frowned. “Oh, I meant to tell you—I have a session with Daniel and Ron tomorrow afternoon.”

  Daniel was mentoring a new Dominant, and he’d asked her to help. As the most experienced submissive in the group, she was often asked to participate in training scenes.

  “Why the frown?” he asked.

  Dena sighed and ran a hand through her blond waves. “Ron keeps asking me to play outside of the mentoring sessions. I’ve turned him down I don’t know how many times, but he keeps asking.”

  Jeff crossed his arms. Since he was being mentored by Daniel, Ron was
able to play with submissives in the group, but it was surprising he kept asking one who’d repeatedly turned him down. “Do you want me to say something to him?”

  “No. I can take care of it. Maybe he’ll eventually get the picture.”

  “Or you could tell him you’re not interested in being in a scene with him ever.” He nodded as if he’d decided something. “I’ll be going with you tomorrow.”

  She almost told him that wouldn’t be necessary, but the look on his face and the determination in his eyes persuaded her not to. Accepting that this was how it was going to be for the foreseeable future, she simply nodded.

  “I’ve been working on how to approach finding out who’s been harassing you. I need a list of all the cases you’ve prosecuted, or at least the people involved. We’ll start with that. How soon can you get it to me?” Jeff asked.

  “I’ll have it for you tomorrow,” she said.

  It was all sorts of odd with Jeff watching the training session the next day. But she couldn’t put her finger on exactly why. There was no sex involved with the scene. Daniel was just teaching Ron a flogger technique. And she was naked, but Jeff had seen her naked plenty of times.

  Maybe that was it, she decided as they drove back to his house. She was naked before him, but not naked for him.

  “Daniel has his work cut out for him with that one,” Jeff said, pulling the truck into the driveway of his house.

  Dena shot her gaze his way, as these were the first words he’d spoken on the entire trip home. “Really? Why do you think that?” She had never noticed anything off about Ron before.

  “There’s just something in his demeanor.”

  “I didn’t notice anything with his technique.”

  He pressed his lips together. “I noticed.”

  He’d stopped the truck and they got out. Probably he’d noticed because he was jealous. Or that’s what she told herself. She watched as he opened the side door and let her in, enjoying the way his muscles flexed under his shirt. Not for the first time that day, she wished it’d been Jeff holding the flogger.

  Because of the way the evening turned out at the play party, they’d never had their flogging scene. Of course, all it took was imagining Jeff holding a flogger to ensure she didn’t think about anything else. Eating dinner, she’d watch his hands flex and imagine those hands on her. The movement of his biceps had her thinking of how he’d work a flogger.

  Fuck, she wanted him.

  So much for rules, expectations, and lines.

  “Everything okay?” he asked the second time she almost dropped a dish she was drying after he washed it.

  “Sorry; just thinking.” And watching his lips. How full they were.

  He took a step toward her, and he was watching her lips, too. “About what?”

  Your lips on my body. Your hands bringing me to the edge. “Nothing.”

  “Liar.” Another step closer. He put the dish down and dried his hands. “Tell me.”

  He was invading her space. And she loved it. She lifted her chin. “No.”

  “Yes.” He was so close, she felt the warmth of his body. Any closer and he’d be touching her. They locked eyes. Time stilled.

  She licked her lips. “You owe me a flogging.”

  “You want me to flog you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Doesn’t that go against your rules?”

  “Screw ’em.”

  He crossed his arms. “I’m not going to fuck you.”

  Well, damn. But she’d take what she could get. “Fine.”

  He studied her for several long seconds before finally saying, “Playroom in ten minutes.”

  Chapter Eight

  Three years ago

  Jeff stared at the pregnancy stick in disbelief. Garbage was scattered all over the kitchen floor, thanks to a dog looking for table scraps, but the pale pink plastic stick may as well have been covered in flashing lights. “Dena,” he finally managed to croak out. She was down the hall but should still be able to hear him.

  “Just a minute.”

  It was as if he held a ticking time bomb in his hands. “I need you now.”

  Laughter came from where she was. “If I had a dime for every time I heard that one.”

  Less than a minute later he heard her footsteps in the hall. “Holy shit. Did Ace get into the garbage again?” she asked as she entered the kitchen and stepped carefully over the trash scattered across the kitchen floor. “Yuck.”

  He held up the stick, and she went pale.

  “What is this?” he asked.

  “I haven’t confirmed anything yet. It could be a false positive.”

  Being knocked over the head with a brick would have felt better. “It was positive?”

  She nodded.

  “You’re pregnant?”

  “I haven’t confirmed it yet.”

  “But you could be?”

  It wasn’t that he didn’t want children. He just didn’t want them now. He wasn’t ready to be a father. A long time ago he’d decided exactly what type of father he would be one day: affectionate, protective, supportive. All the things his own father hadn’t been. And he wanted to be able to provide for his family. His business was doing well, but with the economy the way it was, it’d be a bad time to take on that additional financial responsibility.

  “Yes,” she said. “I could be.”

  “But you’re on the pill.”

  “Nothing’s one hundred percent effective except abstinence.”

  He mumbled a curse under his breath.

  “Yeah, well, that’s why I didn’t want to tell you until I confirmed it,” she said, and kicked a banana peel for good measure.

  He felt awful. He knew he should be more supportive. If he were a better man, he’d know just the right thing to say. Unfortunately, he felt like he’d been kicked in the stomach, and if he opened his mouth again, he was afraid he’d say something he’d regret even more.

  “It’s not like I’m jumping up and down with joy either, you know,” she said. “I have a whole list of things I want to accomplish before I become a mom.”

  A mom. Dena was going to be a mom. To his child.

  She got a new trash bag and started picking up the scattered garbage. “We have to clean this kitchen up. The smell’s making me sick.”

  As she knelt down on the floor, his eyes fell on her collar. His collar. The black leather band that labeled her as his. She was his lover and his best friend, but she was also his submissive. When he’d put the collar on her, he’d promised to care for her, to love and support her.

  He was failing miserably.

  “Don’t.” He stilled her hand before it could pick up a wet coffee filter. “You don’t need to be in here if the smell’s making you sick. Go sit down and let me do this.”

  “But I—”

  “No buts. We’ll talk later.”

  She nodded and left the room, leaving him with his thoughts and