Follow Me

by Tymber Dalton

  But she already had a plan in mind, one she’d come up with on her way over there from the house.

  And one she’d need June’s help to make happen.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Sunday, the evening before the four-week mark, Kel was at the apartment when Mallory took an Uber from their house over to June and Scrye’s house. The couple would be up at their daughters’ apartment in Tampa until late that evening. June gave her the run of their kitchen so Mal could cook Kel dinner. She brought everything with her that she needed to make their dinner, but what she really needed to borrow was in their spare bedroom.

  Specifically, their private pole.

  June had also helped Mal put together a short routine, along with a series of moves Mal could do and mix them up with the music, both on the pole and floorwork. Nothing advanced, but she hoped Kel wouldn’t care about that.

  June, Mads, Fen, and Ben had watched her perform it on Friday during their class, and they all agreed they thought Kel would love it.

  Mal hoped it would show Kel she was truly on the right path this time.

  Waking up next to Kel the other morning had driven home to Mal how much she wanted them together again.

  That Kel hadn’t tried to supervise, interfere with, or even question her morning routine made her mind up for her. It was a marked change from how he used to make sure he was up and moving before she was, laying out her meds, her breakfast, doing all the work to calculate her calories and constantly nudging her to eat, to snack, unintentionally shoving her anorexia in her face with every lovingly intended action on his part in his attempts to care for her.

  As long as tonight went the way she hoped it would, she’d ask him to return home with the stipulation that if she felt they were slipping back into the negative patterns that had tripped her up to start with, he’d have to go back to sleeping at the apartment. That they’d start a week’s trial to see how they did.

  That, just like she’d earned her next month with Doyle, Niall, and Doug by her progress, Kel would have to keep earning sleeping at home with his progress.

  She’d asked Kel to meet her at June and Scrye’s for dinner, but she hadn’t told him they’d be alone. So his surprise to find they had the place to themselves made her smile.

  “What’s going on?” he asked when she let him in.

  “After dinner, I have a surprise for you,” she said. “And then we can talk.”

  * * * *

  Kel didn’t want to hope Mallory had decided to let him come home, and he wouldn’t ask her that, either. She wore a cute sundress he didn’t recognize, a new one that fit her well, not an older one. She looked stunning in a different way than she used to look stunning.

  Before, there’d always been a gorgeous and sweetly soft vulnerability about her that had turned his sadistic crank hard. This new Mallory was both his gorgeous wife…and yet she wasn’t.

  And she still wanted him.

  He was still afraid to play with her beyond nipping and biting her during their lovemaking. Which was still wonderful. He didn’t know how long it’d take him to get past his fear and let her finally coax him into the harder play he knew she truly craved.

  It also hadn’t taken him long to realize Doyle, Niall, and Doug were absolutely right that he had to work on himself. No, he didn’t cause her anorexia, but he had unwittingly contributed despite his best of intentions. Looking back, he could see it now where he couldn’t before.

  Too much of their personalities were wrapped up in their M/s dynamic for a traditional recovery path to work for either of them, no matter how hard they’d tried.

  But they were both on the right track now.

  He’d keep having faith and following his girl and praying she didn’t decide to walk away from him.

  After he helped her clean up the kitchen from their dinner, she turned to him. “Now for that private show I promised you, Sir.”

  His cock stirred. “I’ll follow you, baby.”

  She led him down to the spare bedroom, where the pole was. There, she pointed him to a chair. He sat while she plugged her phone into a small Bluetooth speaker.

  Kel recognized the first song that started playing, “I Won’t Give Up,” by Jason Mraz, one of their favorite artists.

  Mal bashfully lifted the sundress off, revealing a black sports bra and lycra panties under it. She dropped the dress to the floor and grabbed the pole, slowly taking a couple of steps around it. As the music swelled she skipped for a couple of steps, then Kel’s eyes widened as she effortlessly swung around the pole, wrapping her legs around it and holding on as she arched back in a sweetly elegant spin.

  Holy…fuck!

  Over their time together, she’d learned to play with him in public, overcame the worst of her self-consciousness, and not worry about what anyone thought about her but him. And he loved her, still thought she was gorgeous, heart, soul, body, and mind.

  This woman was his wife, and yet she was a stranger now. He finally understood what Doyle had said to him during one phone session about not needing to feel guilty that he had to get to know her all over again.

  This was his Mal…and she wasn’t. This woman looked sure of herself, every motion deliberate.

  Entranced, he watched her smoothly fluid moves, struggling to process this. Mal’s quiet confidence sang to him through the song’s lyrics as she worked through moves he knew had to be physically taxing, and yet…

  Here she was.

  Strong, healing, rebuilding herself from the ground up.

  “Quiet,” also by Jason Mraz, began playing. She knew it was one of his favorite songs. It was one he’d listened to plenty of times during his seemingly endless drives back and forth to Tampa to visit her. He softly sang along with it as she danced for him. It nearly brought him to tears, his emotions being acknowledged like this.

  As he watched her, Kel stomped back the selfish thought that he missed her soft, rounded curves. Maybe one day she’d look like that again, but she was still his wife, and she was still beautiful, and he would still love her, no matter what. He’d always done what he thought was right to help her not feel self-conscious regardless of her body size because he remembered the woman he’d first met, how she’d originally been afraid to talk to him about playing because she thought he wouldn’t want to tie her because she was full-figured.

  How Chelbie had helped bring them together, and he flew Mal for the first time. He wasn’t lying when he said he fell in love with her and not just her body. He’d love her at any body size, but he wanted her healthy.

  He focused on her eyes, on her smile. The song ended and moved into “Shine,” another favorite of his by Jason Mraz. She slipped into the sexy rhythm, her body fluidly undulating in time with the music as she climbed the pole and spun around it, inverting and twisting her body with a confidence she’d never shown before.

  Ever.

  It humbled him.

  Mentally and emotionally, it brought him to his knees.

  And it made him hornier than fucking hell.

  She hadn’t given up on him, just like he hadn’t given up on her.

  Her spin took her into a flip, upright once more to slide down the pole to the floor. There, she slowly rose into a squat, her thighs spreading as she trailed a finger down the side of her throat and between her breasts. The sports bra pushed her breasts together and gave her a deep valley of cleavage he wanted to feel pressed around his aching cock.

  She worked her way toward him, dropping to the floor and rolling onto her back, a sexy series of moves he wanted to take into their bed with them. Just as he leaned forward in his chair to reach for her, she smiled and moved away, smoothly rising and returning to the pole and leaving him almost falling out of his chair.

  This was absolutely his Mal, the sexy call and response in her eyes asking for him to play with her in the shadows…and yet she wasn’t. She was changed, and so was he. They’d both come through this crucible forever seared and scorched but trying to remake
something stronger and better from the ashes.

  For the first time, as he watched her, he realized she was different this time.

  The very air around her shimmered with a strength and confidence she’d never possessed before despite his best efforts, almost like a St. Elmo’s Fire.

  His Mal’s blue gaze pierced him to his core, but this new woman wanted him as badly as he wanted her.

  As the song ended, she finished standing against the pole, one foot propped on it, knee bent, holding on to it with her hands behind her as she breathed heavily and watched him.

  He stood and crossed the room, his body pressing her against the pole while he reached up with one hand and cupped her face. “Fuck, that was gorgeous, baby,” he hoarsely said.

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  “Best Friend” played next. Their gazes met for a long moment as he let the lyrics and music wash over them. Then he slanted his lips over hers in a crushing kiss, rocking his hips against hers to let her feel how hard he was in his shorts.

  Without a care about how hard he was pressing against her.

  Without worrying about hurting her.

  She hooked one leg around his. Her hands grabbed his hips and she ground back against him.

  “I’d like to negotiate you living at home again,” she finally said.

  His hopes soared. “Anything you want, baby. Whatever you want.”

  “Week-to-week, for now. I have to keep earning my recovery boundaries, and so do you. We keep seeing the guys, for now. We don’t drop our individual recovery efforts. And you can’t supervise or control my diet, or my weigh-ins, or any of that. I won’t hide anything from you, but it’s not your responsibility. I control the timeline of when we transition from Doyle, Niall, and Doug supervising my weight and logs and everything to you doing it. I will agree that, for now, they will continue supervising all of that, and you can ask them for information. Can you accept that?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. Absolutely.” Hell, it’d been working. He kissed her, long and hard, savoring it. Treasuring it.

  “I’d also like to negotiate becoming your slave and wearing your collar again, Sir,” she said when he let her breathe once more. “If you still want to.”

  He blinked back tears as he nodded, barely daring to hope this was happening.

  She stared up at him with her gorgeous blue eyes. “Then when you’re ready to collar me again, I’d like that. I won’t ask for a timetable. I’ll leave that up to you, Sir.”

  He reached into his pocket and pulled her bracelet out, smiling as he held it up. “How about right now?”

  He’d grabbed it after getting dressed more as a good-luck charm for tonight, and hadn’t planned to tell her he had it in case she hadn’t asked for it. He hadn’t wanted to pressure her.

  She smiled and held out her right wrist.

  But when he tried to slide it onto her hand…

  It wouldn’t fit over her hand.

  Her eyes widened. “Motherfucker,” she muttered.

  He burst out laughing, crying, laughing some more and kissing her, and swearing at himself, because he’d stupidly not thought to bring the hex key with him.

  He’d thought she was still far too thin for it to be a problem.

  I guess I have my own perception problems to work through.

  And she laughed with him, long and hard, something they hadn’t done in a forever, it felt like.

  He finally got himself under control. “I…I don’t have the key with me, sweetheart. I’m sorry. It’s at the house.”

  “That’s okay.” She draped her arms around his neck. “How about we go home and you can put it on me there? After you give me a spanking for uncollaring myself without permission.”

  He shook his head. “I’ll give you a spanking, but for fun, not for punishment. After I collar you.” He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. “You kept your promise, baby. You’re my perfect, beautiful girl, and you did what you had to do to protect yourself.” His voice grew hoarse again. “I’ll never punish you for protecting yourself. Even if you’re protecting yourself from me.”

  * * * *

  Mal hadn’t anticipated having this problem with her collar. Then again, she hadn’t expected him to have it with him, either. She’d had no clue.

  Isn’t that more proof this is the right thing to do?

  The old Kel would have likely hinted and teased, or outright told her he had it to let her know he was open to whatever she wanted.

  New Kel watched and listened, following instead of leading.

  Protecting her rear instead of trying to plow through the jungle ahead of her regardless of the fact that they weren’t heading in the right direction.

  They packed their things, made sure they left the house—especially the kitchen—the way they’d found it, locked up, and headed home.

  Their home.

  The first thing he did after they unloaded the car was Kel led her into their bedroom, retrieved the hex key from the dresser drawer where he kept it, and knelt in front of her.

  “You have to ask me for it, sweetheart.” His voice had dropped back into what she thought of as his Master tone. Soft, gentle, but deeper and possessing a hidden iron strength his shadows concealed from everyone but her.

  Her voice trembled. “I want to wear your collar and be your slave, Master.”

  He brought her right hand to his lips, turning it so he could feather kisses along the inside of her wrist. “I offer it to you with a vow that I will always be faithful to you. That I will protect you and love you forever. That I will ask you what you need from me to best care for you, and I will do everything in my power to make that happen. I will follow you anywhere you lead me, and when you ask it of me, I will carry you. I’m not perfect.”

  He choked back a tearful laugh. “Boy, am I not perfect.” She laughed with him, but he continued. “But I’ll never give up on you, or on us, baby.” He met her gaze. “You’ve already proven to me that you will absolutely protect what’s mine despite my own dumbassery. But will you allow me to own you, baby?”

  She nodded. “I want you to own me, Master. Please?”

  He fastened it around her wrist before standing, lifting the hem of the sundress as he rose and pulling it up and off over her head, dropping it to the floor. He kissed her as he hooked his thumbs in the waistband of her panties and slid them down and over her hips so she could step out of them.

  The bra came off last, and he beheld her standing before him.

  He lifted her right hand to his lips again, this time kissing the collar. Then he led her to the bed. He sat on the edge and patted his lap.

  She smiled as she climbed up, stretched out over him, her nipples rubbing against his shorts and her pussy already soaked and throbbing from her earlier performance for him.

  He fisted her hair with his left hand as his right stroked and squeezed her ass cheeks.

  “Who’s my good girl?” the Master softly asked.

  She choked up with emotions—the good kind this time—before she could answer. “I am, Master.”

  “That’s right, baby. You’re my very good girl.” Another hard squeeze, fingers digging in and the sweet pain nearly taking her breath away. “And what do good girls get from their Master?”

  “A reward spanking.”

  Another squeeze, which had her trying to grind her pussy against his thigh.

  It made him chuckle. “That’s right, baby. A reward spanking.” His hand came down hard on her right ass cheek, drawing a gasp from her. “So buckle up, this will take a while.”

  Not only did it take a while, it had her crying—good tears—by the time he finally stopped. Subspace hit her so hard and fast she barely had time to process it before her mind sailed off into that sweet, nebulous, shadowy realm where they were always at their best together.

  Her ass and upper thighs felt hot and stingy as he eased her onto her knees on the floor in front of him. “What do you say, baby?”

  “Thank
you, Master.” She desperately nuzzled her face against the front of his shorts, where she felt his cock straining against the zipper, rock-hard and flexing under the fabric as she mouthed its outline.

  Plunging his hands into her hair, he held her in place and slowly eased her up and down it, breathing heavily as he watched her. She looked up at him and gasped at the dark, needy hunger painting his brown gaze in dark shadows she’d wondered if she’d ever see again.

  The grip on her hair tightened almost painfully. “Take it out, goddess.”

  She shivered and squirmed and tried to squeeze her thighs together for a little relief as her trembling fingers lowered his zipper and unfastened the button. They both moaned as she freed his cock and greedily flicked the pearl of pre-cum from the head with her tongue.

  He rammed it deep into her mouth, another groan from both of them filling their bedroom. He held still like that, gasping for breath as the hot silk of his cock twitched and throbbed against her tongue.

  “Wait, baby,” he whispered. “Don’t move. Shit shit shit that’s so fucking good!”

  Another wave of desire swept through her. He sounded hungry and desperate, another thing that had still been missing from their lovemaking.

  And he’d used her. There was nothing she loved more than him taking over and taking charge in bed, doing what he wanted, in his time.

  Another box ticked.

  He didn’t pull her off his cock, but he slowly eased her about halfway off, then stood so she could pull his shorts down and off him.

  That allowed him to sit and spread his thighs wide and pull her deep onto his cock again, slowly fucking her mouth with it and trembling under her. She wrapped her arms around him and held on, trying to keep her gaze tipped up and watching him.

  He released her head so he could pull his shirt up and off and toss it to the floor. Then he grabbed her head again, easing himself back so he could lie on the bed. He pulled her up and off his cock, up his body, releasing her to fist his cock and swipe the head of it along the length of her wet cunt.