Love The Way You Kiss Me

by W. Winters

  Slipping off his sunglasses and folding them, Kamden comments, “I’m surprised you’re up this early.”

  “Couldn’t sleep,” I answer without thinking. It’s the truth that sleep evaded me, but it’s because Zander left my mind reeling last night. My nap went longer than I’d have liked and by the time I woke up, he had a list of tasks for me. Starting with me writing down every desire I had for him and reading them off to him one by one after leaving my panties elsewhere. He had me lay the throw blanket across my knees, and then spread my legs. It offered him a view to say the least, but all the cameras would see is me reading from my diary and Zander sitting calmly, asking questions for me to detail more of my goals, desires and fantasies.

  He didn’t touch me once. Not a single time last night. Instead, after hours, he left me with the task to think beyond what I’d written and focus on what would please him most. Once I write that down, he said I could pick whichever fantasy I wanted.

  What would please him most? If I confided in him about what happened. I’m almost certain that’s what he wants from me.

  The disappointment still lingers I pluck a chunk of the sugary chocolate sweet and pop it into my mouth.

  Kam’s tone is serious when he asks, “Do you want to talk about it? I can get you stronger sleeping pills, or get the doctor over here to discuss the current medication.” As he leans forward without a trace of his humor, the bags under his blue eyes are clear as the morning sun.

  “No,” I answer with just as much surprise as kindness. “No, no.” I wipe my hand on a cloth napkin and shake my head. “It’s umm, the medication is working well I think and that’s what Damon tells me. It was just a long night really.”

  My attempt to ease his worries doesn’t appear to sink in.

  “You’ll tell me if you do need anything, right?” he questions and his gaze slips to the old brick of a phone that’s capable of making calls, but doesn’t have any function for apps. I text him and only him really on it, although I have a small handful of friends I trust whose contact information is on it as well.

  “Of course I would. You know if I want to annoy anyone with my bullshit, it will be you,” I joke.

  He snorts, seeming to relax and leans back in the chair. “It’s not annoying and it’s not bullshit, but yes,” he says and smirks, “I do know how you love to torture me.”

  I mirror his relaxed posture and ignore my exhaustion as I say, “So, the posts went well.”

  With his left hand tapping his sunglasses on the table, Kam nods. “Both went well.” He emphasizes the first word and it doesn’t make much sense at all that I should feel emotional about it. About the knowledge that he did post about the “ball in a box” analogy.

  “Was it helpful?” I question, the mug in my hand halting midway as I wait for his answer.

  His nod is enthusiastic. “So many people could relate,” he tells me and then adds, “There are some comments with other suggestions as well, but I wanted to run them by Damon before showing you.” His smile dims slightly, but he holds it in place. “Just to make sure I’m not telling you something or spreading something that could be—”

  I cut off his explanation with a wave of my hand through the air. “I get it. You want to make sure it’s helpful before I go believing someone off the internet.”

  His smile turns tight and his gaze drops.

  “I should call you Daddy Kam.”

  “Oh,” he says as his brow raises and his voice is playful, “don’t tease me.” His joke is followed with, “Besides, according to your other post, you’ve already got a Daddy.”

  He holds his phone out for me to see.

  It takes me a moment to register what I’m seeing. The photo is one that I remember telling Kam I loved. The sight of the floral dress brings back the memories of it being flipped over my waist while Zander finger fucked me. The rumble of his words, do not test my control, nearly has me shivering in my seat.

  Focusing on the rest of the photo is much easier.

  My caption reads: I am trying. I am working through it. And I am sending love to all who are working through whatever has stolen their smile.

  I love it. That is exactly the message I would send had I done it myself. Taking a sip of my tea, I notice there are only three comments on the screenshot of the post, which has over a hundred thousand likes on it in the ten minutes that had passed since he took the screenshot.

  The first: Sending you so much love back!

  The second: I am so proud of you. You can do this, you sexy thing, you!

  The third: Whoa, check out the Daddy in the background. I’ll work through anything to get to his fine ass.

  My eyes widen as I read it and I have to take a look at the photo again. My heart pounds and my blood heats.

  Kamden doesn’t hold back his laughter at my reaction to the sight of Zander in the background of the photo. The black shirt and jeans he was wearing that day aren’t doing him any justice as he stands in the corner of the background through the windowpane. His focus is ahead as he prepares to enter through the back door, so it’s a profile.

  His stubbled jawline and the power that radiates off of him, even from just striding across the back patio, is sexy as fuck.

  “I mean … they’re not wrong.”

  A heat travels across the back of my neck. I’m not certain I can remain composed, so I down the cup of tea before I speak.

  “They aren’t wrong,” I say, my tone less flippant this time.

  “You going to start calling him ‘Daddy’ now? The term going around is ‘lover boy,’ just so you know.”

  “Lover boy?” I can hardly get the words out considering the way my breath has been stolen. He’s my secret, my safe place. “I didn’t realize he was in the picture.”

  “I think it was one of the last ones I took,” Kamden tells me, laying the phone on the table. “It’s been great for image. Everyone loves a scandal and even more than that, a romance.”

  “What did you tell them?” My inquiry comes out more breathy than I’d like, but there isn’t an ounce of suspicion from Kam.

  “The official statement from your estate is, ‘We are incredibly grateful for the professional guidance The Firm has offered during this time of healing.’”

  “Professional.” I nod in agreement of his wording.

  “If you remember, I’ve always been the professional one. It would be you who would have commented something like, ‘Yeah, but is he packing,’ along with the eggplant emoji.”

  The laugh that bubbles up is genuine and given Kam’s reaction, the hints of worry diminish quickly enough.

  “Now that’s a beautiful sound.” Damon’s comment comes from behind us and I turn to see him making his way over from the other side of the island. His kindness is never unnoticed. The man knows how to make me smile too. I appreciate it and I make sure to widen my grin when I meet his gaze.

  “Just the man I wanted to see,” Kam pipes up. As the two of them have a quiet conversation, I assume about the comments Kam wants to show me referring to the second post and hopefully not the first, I busy myself with making another cup of tea.

  My journal is next to the kettle. Flipping through the pages I find the last one, which I titled: What would please him most? It’s no coincidence I chose to use a hot pink gel pen for this page. The rest of it is blank.

  Damon saw me staring at it this morning. I peek up at him as I wait for the kettle to whistle, and he and Kam are focused on Kam’s phone. Occasionally Damon nods.

  He told me I was doing well. He said I should be careful not to rush things or judge my progress harshly.

  A bad moment is not a bad day. Not being able to complete a task doesn’t mean failure.

  Staring at this blank page, though, I’m not sure Zander will agree.

  Zander

  Each client of The Firm will receive regular evaluations to determine whether progress has been made toward their individualized care goals.

  Ella’s hair i
s wet from the shower when I arrive for the night. I catch the scent of her shampoo the second I walk in the door, and it’s all I can do to listen to Damon as he recaps the day. He said it was a lighthearted day but those days worry him. After the highs come the dips, and oftentimes they can feel like falling back when they’re only natural.

  Harrison once described it to me as a spiral staircase built against a wall. Even though we climb higher and higher, we still hit the wall. We must. It has to occur to move onward.

  Making a mental note, I debate on whether or not I should carry through with my plan for tonight.

  “Should I aim for an uneventful, quiet night then?”

  Damon’s head shakes. “Take her lead. If she wants another long conversation, I wouldn’t avoid that. It may be necessary. You good?” he asks.

  Nodding in agreement that it may be necessary, I continue the movement with my answer, “I’m good.”

  I send him on his way and find Ella at the archway to the kitchen. I’m not sure where she was before, but she’s here now. “Hi,” she says softly. The cadence of her voice and the shyness in her posture already have me rock fucking hard.

  There is something about a strong-willed woman’s submission that is utterly addictive.

  “My little bird,” I murmur and each word is practically a hum from deep in my chest. I purposefully make the satisfaction audible and I’m rewarded with a slight blush that rises from her chest up to her cheeks.

  “We’ll start tonight with a scene.”

  Ella stares at me, her large dark eyes sparking with desire. She nods, and I know she feels what I feel right now. Pent-up need. It’s been a long twelve hours without her.

  And I am desperate. Combine that with exposed skin revealed by the pale pink silk robe she dons that hugs the small of her waist and cuts off mid-thigh … fuck me.

  Now that I’ve had my fingers in her sweet, tight cunt, it’s practically all I can think about. I can and will keep more than one thing in mind at once. Like her safety. Like her progress. Like the way her body moves as we go to the sitting room. But damn does the thought of her enjoying my touch like she did, getting her off and rewarding her occupy every quiet moment.

  She takes her seat across from me, perched and waiting for demands like the eager sub she is, and I adjust the lighting in the room. One lamp, turned down as low as it will go. The flames in the grate licking at the crystals in the fireplace. It’s intimate, the way I like.

  I take my seat. “Stand.”

  Ella does so without hesitation, getting to her feet in a graceful motion that I want to follow with my hands. The desperation I felt walking in is already waning. It’s a combination of the low lighting and the fact that when she obeys me for the first time, we are in the scene, I am in control, and this is right.

  It feels right. A 24/7 power exchange is already difficult when there are large gaps of time between scenes. Add in the other men and their own power over her for necessary reasons … every time I walk away there’s a prick of nervousness that they won’t care for her like they should and that our efforts will be lost. So as much as I’d like, this arrangement is not perfect.

  “What are you wearing under your robe?”

  “Only panties.”

  “Take them off.” My command, evenly and calmly spoken, is given with my palm up.

  Again she obeys, approaching my seat with careful steps and placing them into my outstretched hand. When this is over, she can have them back. Her dark eyes are luminous in the firelight, and she’s so close that I can scent her. Fuck, she smells good. Everything about her is intoxicating. It’s a combination of her light, floral shampoo and her skin beneath that.

  “You can sit down now.”

  Only a mild hesitation—a fraction of a second before she turns and walks back to her seat. My cock strains against the front of my pants. I ignore it. It’s more difficult to dismiss when I’m not with her.

  “Good girl.” My approval brings back the simper she wore moments ago. “There are things we need to discuss tonight. For this, I’ll allow you to speak freely. Understood?”

  Ella nods, and I imagine it’s because she’s conserving her voice, the way she always does. “How is your throat today?”

  “Better,” she answers confidently.

  “Good.”

  She folds her hands demurely in her lap, resting them on the silk fabric of her robe. Her knees are kept firmly pressed together. I could make her spread them, but I don’t.

  “You have events scheduled. A brunch, and a rendezvous with executives.” I pause, gauging her unmoving expression. Kamden’s details are scant. All he noted was that they were friends of hers she hasn’t seen in far too long. Damon agrees that she should be socializing. A “rendezvous” isn’t a good enough description as far as I’m concerned, but I’ve been tasked to handle both of them, at Kamden’s request.

  “Are you looking forward to them?”

  “I am.” Ella’s gaze softens and she seems to doubt herself a moment but then finds her voice I know to be strong. “It’s been too long and I miss my friends.” The relief that spreads through my chest is unexpected. I hadn’t realized how much I dreaded pushing back on Kamden’s request, and Damon’s approval, if Ella had been anything other than happy to attend. The idea of her with friends, laughing, smiling and joking … I want that for her.

  “It will be a delight to see you among your peers.”

  “You’ll be going?” Ella’s surprise forces a smirk to my lips.

  “That is correct. You seem shocked.”

  “I just … I was under the impression Damon would be with me during the brunch, since it will be during his shift. Did you request it?” There’s a mix of both hope and worry in the vulnerability that lingers in her question.

  Shaking my head once, I admit, “I did not. Kamden did.”

  “I see.”

  “Would you rather I didn’t?” I question, not understanding her concern and not liking it either.

  “It’s a relief you’ll be there, to be honest. I just … Kamden didn’t tell me that.”

  My hum of acknowledgment is low and short.

  “There will be alcohol present at both. It’s my preference that you don’t drink at either event. Do you agree?”

  Ella meets my eyes. Her lips part, as if she’s considering disagreeing deeply, but it’s several beats before she speaks. This consideration tells me that she’s capable of being in this scene. It’s something I check for constantly—her ability to consent. Consent, in scenes and otherwise, is never one and done. It can change at any second. At any moment, she could give me her safe word, and this would end. “Yes. I agree.” Her voice is so low, so soft.

  “I know about the small bottles, little bird.”

  A frisson of shock moves through the air between us, Ella’s eyes widening.

  “Do you know which ones I’m referring to?” I ask.

  She only nods. “I’d like you to answer verbally.”

  “I do. Yes.”

  “I found the bottles, and I reviewed the tapes. I know what you did, and I don’t like it. Self-medicating and risking adverse side effects is something that puts you in danger. You’re not going to be drinking while you’re in my care. I’m glad you agree to the rule. But you should know that I will punish you if you break it.” My grip tightens on the armrest when I add, “Severely, and you will not enjoy it.”

  She nods again. Ella rubs her knees against one another nervously. Her body is tight, not with desire, but fear. “Am I in trouble?” She hasn’t experienced a punishment yet beyond orgasm denial. I set her up for that one last night. Tonight I intend to set her up again, but it will be different and certainly not for something she did before she gave her submission to me.

  “Do you think you should be?”

  “I was … it was a bad moment.”

  “We also hadn’t established our arrangement yet. Had we?” I question her.

  Shaking her head, her posture
relaxes just slightly. “No, we hadn’t started.”

  Taking a moment to let her compose herself, I shift in my seat, not hiding how very hard I still am for her. I need her to know I still want her. Even if she’s done something to upset me, I will always want her.

  “Now. We need to prepare for your outings. We will practice.”

  “Practice?”

  “Questions will naturally come up while you’re with your friends, or while you’re at the rendezvous.” Ella changes before my eyes. Her breathing goes shallow, her back straightens and her muscles tense. “They may ask you questions about your voice, or other specifics you have yet to discuss openly and you’ll need to be prepared to answer. We’ll practice that now.”

  “They won’t ask. They won’t.” Ella denies the possibility and it fucking guts me how much she truly believes it.

  I continue with the scene, I continue my role as her Dom even as the emotions sweep through me. “If they ask you why you hurt yourself, what will you answer?”

  “No.” Her answer is hard. She struggles to keep my gaze, her head held high in defiance. “I don’t want to do this.”

  What she hasn’t done, though, is use her safe word.

  “You know what to do if you want to stop something. If you want a scene to end without punishment. You know exactly what to do. So are you telling me no?” I gentle my voice to add, “Or are you saying something else?” She has yet to use her safe word. I imagine the first time will be the hardest for her. This moment, though, this scene, will hopefully not be what does her in, but given her state, I need to remind her that it is available. She has yet to discuss it with me, and it could very well be a boundary and a hard limit for her.

  She holds my gaze, the cords in her throat tightening as she whispers, “No.”

  Good girl.

  It does something to me, that “no.” That open disobedience. I don’t let it show on my face, or in my posture. Her choice tells me how much she wants to heal. That is my good fucking girl. Even if she’s going to be punished, I am thrilled with her decision.