by Gemma James
Deep down, I hadn’t worried about it much because after those first few months, when it became obvious I wasn’t getting pregnant, I hadn’t thought it would be an issue we’d have to face.
Turned out I was wrong.
I glanced up and found him staring at me. “What do you need from me, Kayla?”
That was the last thing I’d expected him to say. “I…I’m not sure what you mean.”
“You tried talking to me last night about what you’d need, should you become pregnant. I could have handled that conversation a lot better. Instead, I jumped to conclusions, and for that I’m truly sorry. So now I’m asking. Tell me what you need.”
I parted my lips, but nothing came out. The best I could do was shrug my shoulders. Problem was, I had no idea what I wanted or needed. My head was still spinning from seeing those two lines yesterday, and the fact that Gage was sitting in that chair, looking so damn lost, just about unhinged me.
“I need you to be you,” I whispered, my throat constricting. Why was I so upset? Having a baby was a dream come true for us. But neither of us could deny the risks—not with the type of lifestyle we lived and my previous track record with pregnancies.
He rose and crossed to where I sat, legs dangling over the edge of the table. As I drew in a lungful of air, he slid his palms along my cheeks, and it amazed me how gentle he managed to be at times. The tender way he cradled my face was incongruent with his basest self.
“Baby, I’m still the same bastard I was yesterday before you told me. Trust me, there will be times when you wish for more leniency. But damn,” he said, caressing my temples with his thumbs. “This is fucking real. It’s happening, and I want to do right by you, so tell me what you need.”
A breath shuddered from my lips. “I don’t know. I thought I’d want things to change between us, but I…I just want you the way you are.” A large part of me needed to kneel at his feet to feel loved. He cherished me best while on my knees, and I craved that connection with him.
Out of nowhere, tears erupted, and I swiped them away, angry at myself for crying. “I need you to take care of me like you always do. I need the security of being yours.”
“That’s a given, so why am I sensing a ‘but’ in there somewhere?”
Was I clinging to a caveat? I searched within myself and found the perpetual need to be owned by him, but also to have a piece of me that I could call my own. The strikes of his implements wouldn’t quiet it, nor the penetration of my ass—it would fester until I took my last breath because as surely as Gage was a sadist, I was a reluctant slave with a nagging need to be my own damn person at least part of the time.
“I want to go back to the negotiation table.”
“We’re talking about your needs, not your wants.”
I met his gaze with the glare of firm resolve. “I need to go back to the negotiation table.”
His fingers slid into my hair, and he tugged my lips to his. “You had it right the first time, but for the duration of your pregnancy, we’ll compromise. I don’t expect things to stay the same while we navigate this.”
“Thank you.”
“But this habit you have of withholding shit? It ends now. Do you understand me?”
I nodded, blinking in quick succession to fight back the tears. “Yes, Master.”
“My job is to help you carry these burdens, but I can’t do that if you don’t tell me what’s bothering you.”
I reached for his cheeks, and as we stood there, face-to-face, holding on to each other while we waited for the doctor to tell us everything would be okay, I finally found the words I needed to relay what my heart had been telling me for a year and a half.
“I need your permission to be imperfect. What if I’m too sick to take your cock in my mouth? What if I’m not in the mood for sex? And anal,” I said with a gulp. “I don’t want you to be disappointed if I…if I say no.”
Dropping his hand to my chin, he ran his fingers along my jawline. “You’re not allowed to say no to me, which makes your job simple. Trust me. I’ll be careful with you, baby. Why can’t you see that?”
“Because you hurt me.”
“I’ve always hurt you, long before we married. Part of you even gets off on it, so this preoccupation of yours lately leaves me with one conclusion. You don’t trust me enough to submit fully. You’ve given so much of yourself, but you’re still holding on to the doubt in the back of your mind. It’s an ugly voice in your head, and it’ll do nothing but pick apart our relationship.”
“I’ll try harder, Master,” I said, lowering my eyes.
A knock sounded, shattering our moment.
“We’ll talk about this more later,” Gage said as he moved away from me. The door opened slowly, revealing a petite woman in scrubs. The doctor introduced herself as Dr. Keenan, and her warm smile put me at ease instantly.
The appointment went as expected; first we went over our concerns about another tubal pregnancy, talked about our alternative lifestyle—Gage had found Dr. Keenan for a reason, as she wasn’t quick to judge when it came to kink. Then came the degrading part. After changing into a gown, the doctor helped me fit my feet into stirrups and performed the exam. I kept my eyes on Gage the whole time, counting the seconds until she finished.
“I’d like to do an ultrasound,” she said. “I believe you’re further along than you thought.”
“By how long? A few days?”
“More like a few weeks.”
I pushed myself up on my elbows, and she held out a hand to help me into a sitting position. “But I had a period about…five weeks ago, I think.”
She asked me a few more questions and mentioned something about implantation bleeding before readying the ultrasound machine. I reclined once more, and as Dr. Keenan squirted a jelly-like substance onto my flat belly, Gage moved to my side and took my hand, squeezing my fingers.
I kept my gaze glued to the monitor, but terror fisted my throat. What would we do if that machine trampled our dreams?
“Everything’s going to be okay, baby,” he said, his voice low yet full of certainty.
I grabbed onto his words and wrapped myself in them. I had to trust that he was right. Besides, if I were further along than I thought, then didn’t that mean the truly nail-biting stage of my pregnancy had passed?
The doctor pressed the hand-held device to my belly and moved it around until she found the right spot. “There’s your baby,” she said with a smile. “My, hear that strong heartbeat.”
Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump…
“You’re about ten weeks.”
“Oh my God.” Through my tears, I stared at the image of our tiny baby in awe. Tearing my gaze away long enough to meet Gage’s eyes was so damn hard, but I wanted to see his reaction as much as I wanted to take in the black and white picture of the child growing inside me.
Gage brought the back of my hand to his lips, his blue eyes bright with wonder, and that small gesture was nearly my undoing.
17. Edgy
“Eve!” I called out, thrusting my arms into the sleeves of a knee-length sweater. “Where’s your jacket?”
“Um…I think I left it in the bathroom.”
As I tied the sash around my waist, she ran down the hall, and I called after her to hurry up. “The bus is going to be here any second!”
She returned thirty seconds later, trying to shove her right arm through a sleeve that was partially inside out.
“Here, baby. Let me.” Pulling the garment from her body, I tugged on the sleeves then helped her push her arms through. We rushed out the front door, and a misty rain fell, leaving tiny pin-sized drops of water in our hair and on our clothes.
“Did you get my Halloween costume yet?”
Shit.
“I’ll get it tomorrow.”
“Mom,” she whined.
I sighed, ill-equipped to handle her mood swings this morning. I was barely able to keep up with my own, and it didn’t help that what little breakf
ast I’d eaten sat lodged in my throat, just waiting to make an appearance.
“You’ll love it, I promise.” As soon as the bus pulled up, I bent and gave her a hug. “Have a great day at school.”
“Bye, Mom!” She stomped up the stairs, and as the yellow bus started to wheel away, she waved at me from her seat at the front. I waved back, then I stood for a few minutes, eyes closed, face upturned toward the falling mist, and just breathed. The cool air soothed the nausea, and the serene chirping of birds, combined with the gentle rustle of leaves, eased the tension from my muscles.
I sensed Gage’s presence before he touched me.
“What are you doing out here?” he asked, resting his hands on my shoulders.
“Fresh air helps the nausea.”
Wrapping his arms around me, he rested his chin on my shoulder. “Then we’ll stand out here as long as you need, though I’d hate for you to come down with a cold.”
“Cold weather doesn’t cause—”
“Illnesses, I know.” He let out a soft laugh into my hair. “Viruses do.”
“And bacteria.”
“That too.”
Standing in the rain with him like this gave me a sense of deja vu. He let me have my meditative moment for a couple minutes longer, then he tugged on my arm, and I followed him back into the house. The day held a weird sort of energy I couldn’t put my finger on. The air was rife with it as we settled in at the dining table again, where we’d gathered for breakfast before Eve had to leave for school.
Gage folded his newspaper and set it aside, and the way he scrutinized me made me edgy. I crossed my arms, suddenly chilled despite my sweater. The ball was tonight, and he’d taken the day off from work so we could…talk.
“You should try finishing your breakfast,” he said, nudging my partially eaten plate of pancakes toward me.
“I’m sorry. I’m just not hungry right now.”
“Do you want me to fix you something else?”
“I don’t know. Maybe in a while.”
With a sigh, he grabbed my hand. “Are you nervous about tonight?”
Avoiding his gaze, I darted my tongue out and wet my lips. “Which part?”
“The latter half of the evening.”
“Yes.”
He leaned forward and brushed the hair from my eyes. “You have nothing to be scared of, baby. Just let go and trust me.”
“I’m trying, but I still think we should go over a few things.”
He settled back into his seat. “I was up most of the night considering everything you said yesterday at Dr. Keenan’s office, and I came to a decision, Kayla.” The tone of his voice put me on alert, and I sat up straighter.
“You said you needed security, so I’m going to give it to you in the only way I know how. There will be no negotiations. The only thing I want from you is trust. In return, I will give you a safe word after tonight.”
“A safe word?”
“Yes.”
Technically, I had a safe word, but I never used it, and he didn’t allow me to use it during punishments. “In what way will this be different from what we do now?”
He cleared his throat. “You know how I dislike giving you control, but in this situation, a certain amount of it is necessary, so long as you don’t abuse the privilege. Because that’s what it is. A privilege. You’re my slave, but you’re also carrying my child, so I want you to feel…safe.” Lowering his head, he ran his fingers through his hair, and I realized how difficult that concession had been for him to make.
“I do feel safe, Gage.”
“Do you?” he asked, lifting his head.
“Yes.”
“Even when I’m punishing your ass?”
I gulped. “Yes, Master.” Didn’t mean I liked or even handled his punishments well, but I hadn’t truly feared him since…
Since the day I cheated on him with his brother.
“Then why are you having trouble submitting?”
That was a good question. Fear of the unknown, perhaps, or that voice inside me that constantly shouted how love shouldn’t be like this. “I guess it’s in my nature to dig my heels in.”
“Baby, I love that part of you more than anything. But rules are rules, and you’ll never be allowed to deny me.” He paused, letting his statement sink in. “That being said, if something I’m doing is too difficult to handle, no matter how well-deserved, you have my permission to speak up about it.”
“Kinda hard to speak up when you gag me half the time,” I grumbled.
“I don’t gag you to quiet your opinions. I do it when I need you to hear what I’m saying, without interruptions or distractions. And Kayla,” he said, a gruff note entering his tone. “I do it because it turns me the fuck on.”
God, how I loved turning him on.
“Are you still feeling ill?”
“No, Master.” Why was my voice suddenly raspy? Tight with need and want? Had he conditioned my body’s response to fall in tune with the way he spoke to me?
“Don’t move,” he said, scooting his chair across the hardwood. “I’ll be right back.” He gathered our dishes before disappearing into the kitchen. Running water sounded from the other room for a few seconds before he returned.
“Hop up here,” he said, patting the middle of the dining table.
“Master?” My attention swerved between his face and his hand, which still rested on the table.
“I’m fairly certain you understood me. I want you up here now, legs spread. I intend to make you edge all day.”
Just in time for tonight, so I’d be so out of my mind with wanting him that I wouldn’t question the things he planned to do to me. Even as I slid onto the table in front of him, opening my legs and exposing myself to his darkening gaze, I knew his end game, and it would be one hell of a ride that would soar me to the highest of highs before dropping me into the bowels of agony.
He buried his face between my thighs, and that’s how much of the day passed. Between bouts of morning sickness, Gage pushed me to within inches of tumbling over the forbidden ledge of ecstasy.
On the table, bent over his desk, in the shower, even against the window with the curtains drawn. That had been particularly fucked up, as he’d positioned me facing our street while he crouched between my legs, out of view. He’d licked me to madness underneath my skirt, and the only way to save my dignity had been to keep my face blank as the cars rolled past.
In the end, I’d failed. With my hands balled against the glass, I’d begged him to let me come, heedless of who might be watching my grand moment of weakness as my husband pushed his tongue into my pussy again and again.
Of course, he’d ignored my pleas. But at least there was one positive side effect to having been pushed to the edge all day; I throbbed for release so much that the nausea subsided, and I I figured I’d have no problem digging into dinner like a starving, ravenous pig.
After Leah’s mom picked up Eve, and the evening fell into darkness, I entered the bedroom to prepare for the charity ball. That’s when I noticed a box sitting on the end of the bed.
Gage hovered behind me, his body heat warming my back as excitement zinged through my veins. Damn, this man…his biggest achievement in life was turning me inside out and upside down. Tonight would challenge me, scare me, but knowing Gage, it would also make me stronger in my submission. Tonight would be the first true test of our roles since finding out about the baby.
“Are you curious what’s inside?” he asked.
“Of course I am.”
“Address me properly.”
“I’m sorry, Master.”
“Your pregnancy doesn’t give you license to act like a brat, and it won’t prevent me from punishing your hole.” To drive home his point, he drew a finger between my butt cheeks, bottom to top. “Anal penetration won’t harm the baby if done with care.”
I wanted to argue, mostly because I hated when he punished my asshole, but the doctor had given us the rundown on what was sa
fe and what wasn’t. As long as my pregnancy continued on a normal, healthy path, Gage still had plenty of room to make me bend.
“May I open the box now, Master?”
“You may,” he said with a playful swat to my bottom.
It was enough to send me into motion. I sensed him lingering a couple of feet behind me as I crossed to the bed. That box drew my attention like a beacon, with its gorgeous burgundy color, accented with black lace and trimmed in gold. I pried the top off and pushed the tissue paper aside to reveal black rope and a jeweled butt plug. Dread and longing collided inside me until I couldn’t decide whether to run from what he had planned, or beg for it. I lifted the rope and turned to face him.
“I thought you could use a couple of accessories to match your dress.” His mouth curled into a smug smile.
“My dress?” I rubbed the silky rope between my fingers.
“Come,” he said, holding out a hand.
Sliding my palm into his felt as natural as breathing. He led me to our wardrobe and unzipped a garment bag that hadn’t been in there that morning when I’d dressed.
“Wow,” I breathed, more than taken with the gown that spilled from the bag. The dress was the same deep burgundy as the butt plug, and the skirt was as full as a ballroom gown. I ran my fingers over the black and gold beadwork that adorned the front of the strapless corset-styled bodice.
“What a divine creation,” he said, fingering the satin material, but his gaze never left me. “Wearing clothing should be illegal. If I could escort your naked body to this ball and get away with it, I would.” A corner of his mouth tilted up. “I guess this dress will have to do, at least until we get to the better portion of the night.”
The after party.
He freed the dress from the bag before escorting me back into the bedroom. I clutched the rope, which was long enough that the end trailed behind me on the hardwood floor. He carefully arranged the dress on the bed before moving toward me with purpose, one hand outstretched, palm up.
“Hand me the rope, please.”
It slipped from my fingers, like silk pouring from my hand to his, and a chill broke out on my skin as I watched him fold it in half. I had no clue what he was about to do. The upcoming night held many intrigues—beginning right here in our bedroom.
