Their Discovery (Legally Bound Book 3)

by Rebecca Grace Allen

11

  Sam woke up on Saturday morning groggy and alone.

  She hadn’t fallen asleep right away the night before. She’d dozed while Brady slept, naked on the bedspread until she’d realized she hadn’t taken her pill. She’d managed to get up without waking him and went to the bathroom to down it, then cleaned herself up. When she glanced at her reflection, she’d barely recognized the person she saw. Her ponytail was loose and unkempt, her eye makeup smudged to all hell. She looked freshly fucked, and shocked beyond belief.

  Something had happened between her and Brady, something big they couldn’t ignore. When they’d been playing at Dominant and submissive, those roles and what they meant so clear, she’d felt like a magnet snapped into place. And she’d never been as turned on by her husband as she had last night.

  They needed to talk.

  But Brady looked too peaceful, cocooned beneath the blankets when she’d returned. She’d eyed him, all cozy, sleepy and warm, remembering a moment when they’d first brought Allegra home from the hospital and she’d only stopped crying when she fell asleep on Brady’s chest. It was one of the things she loved, too, curling up in his big burly arms. How long had it been since they’d cuddled? Since she’d woken in his embrace? She wanted that more than she wanted to break this silence, and she’d been too enamored at the prospect of a night without being needed by a screaming child to do anything but sleep. So she dove in beside him, got as close as she dared and closed her eyes.

  Apparently that was a massive mistake.

  Sam reached over and picked up her phone from the nightstand. Brady had sent her a text.

  “Problem with the servers again. Gotta go to the office.”

  It had a timestamp of 6:42 a.m.

  She should’ve tried harder to wake him up. Only now in the light of the day, rubbing her eyes as the sun streamed in through the windows, did she think about all the ways she’d fucked up last night. And she had the sneaking suspicion he’d gone into work to avoid her.

  “Hope everything is okay,” she typed, then fell back against the sheets.

  That question about the sitters had definitely bothered him, but she’d done worse than that. There’d been no discussion of safewords, nothing about limits and certainly no aftercare. She knew better than that—she’d read enough books to know that was a thing, one she held the reins on. It was her job to initiate stuff like that, but she’d been too wrapped up in the moment, infatuated by what was happening.

  Having Brady do her bidding was a rush like she’d never experienced. The way he’d kept his eyes on her as her clothes fell to the floor, his hands clenched by his sides. She’d always had a thing for his legs, his carved, muscular calves. He might not be nineteen anymore, but he was still an Adonis as far as she was concerned. And she’d loved the sound of him gritting out words when he was stretched out beneath her, trembling and needy, all that masculine strength tethered for her.

  How had she not known this about herself?

  She’d always been a dominating personality. It was why she’d been into politics in the first place, and why she’d chosen Brady. He’d practically rolled over and begged for belly rubs when she complimented him in college. Calling him pet had been a surprise, but it rolled off her tongue so easily, and it seemed to suit him, especially when she’d made him stand still. There was something so attractive about a strong man leashed to the spot, and she’d loved seeing her husband strain for her, the lean of his body as she moved away, a puppy struggling to obey his master.

  She’d thought he hadn’t wanted her anymore. That they’d lost this spark. But they’d reclaimed it last night, lit that fire that used to fuel them and turned it into an inferno. Something fierce had gripped her when she’d taunted him about how close to coming he was. She’d wanted to push him more, to subject him to the torture of her words.

  But she’d fucked up. She’d pushed him too far, ordering him to hold off when it was obvious he was on the brink. She hadn’t asked what he needed or taken care of him afterward, either, and now he’d shut himself away from her because of it.

  Her phone buzzed with a reply.

  “It’s going okay,” he texted. “I’ve got a finger in the dam, for now.”

  Sam stared at his words. Maybe she could get him to talk to her if she made up some kind of technological excuse first.

  “Can you chat? I’m having trouble with the computer.”

  Brady was slow to respond. “In like an hour?”

  “Okay.”

  That gave her time to gather her thoughts. She had things to do, too. The grocery list had to be written. She had a week’s worth of the girls’ lunches to plan, not to mention laundry and getting herself ready for work. But for now, she was in a daze, wandering through the house in a bathrobe after a long, hot shower.

  It was strange to not have any demands on her, no cleaning or acting as kitchen staff or answering constant questions. Her parents were taking the girls to a movie today as part of their sleepover weekend, which amazingly was going well. They’d stated they wanted more quality time with their grandchildren before they moved, whenever that was going to be, and Sam had zero problem with that.

  She hadn’t told the girls her parents were moving yet. The change could send Allegra into a downward spiral. But not having an actual date meant Sam couldn’t plan for anything, and what Allegra didn’t know yet wouldn’t hurt her. So for the moment, Sam relished the rare silence and read The Washington Post feed on her phone.

  She swiped through articles, skimming through the stories about the Left and the Right, the battle for power in government.

  “People are attracted to power,” Dawes had told her one morning when they were racing across The Hill. Hoping he’d be with her for the next midterm elections, he’d educated her on the Ps of Primary season: projected returns, percentages, precincts. But the one that was most important was power.

  She’d listened closely as he’d explained that power existed everywhere—in nature, in the food chain, in every organization and relationship. “Figure out what people need from your power, then learn how to wield it.”

  She hadn’t felt powerful in over a decade. She did now. So what did Brady need from her? How could she give it, and were there times she could decide not to?

  If only she had someone to talk to. In her books, the characters had a person to ask questions, an older, wiser guide. She needed someone like that for herself. A kinky fairy godmother.

  An hour later, she was dressed and settled at the computer in the basement. She logged in to her user account and opened up chat. The icon next to Brady’s name was green.

  “Hi,” she typed. “Still a good time?”

  “Yeah. What’s wrong with the computer?”

  Shit. She’d forgotten to come up with an excuse. “I’m trying to pay the bills, but the bank site isn’t working.”

  “Did you clear your cache?”

  She hadn’t, of course, so she let him talk her through the process. Fictional problem notwithstanding, Brady was always good with stuff like this. Even at school, he’d fix her laptop when it wasn’t working, and seemed to intrinsically know how to work every device they owned.

  “All fixed?” he typed.

  “Yes. But…” How should she approach this? Might as well be straightforward. “I’d like to talk about last night.”

  A pause followed. “Okay…”

  Was he nervous? If so, she wanted to shield him from that, to drive out any feelings other than him knowing she’d loved every minute of it.

  “I can’t stop thinking about it,” she wrote.

  Her heart pounded as she waited for his response. The little dots that showed him typing finally bounced.

  “Neither can I.”

  Sam’s body tingled. She sat up straighter. “I want you to tell me something.”

  “What’s that?”

  Immediate obedience. She liked that. “When did you start wanting me like that?”

  “I never stoppe
d.”

  Her heart stuttered. “Even when I was pregnant and fat and exhausted?”

  “You’re always beautiful to me, Sam.”

  Her insides pinched together—a tightening in her sternum. “I thought you’d stopped wanting me.”

  Her confidence was wavering. But she had to be honest.

  “Not the case at all.”

  “Then why—”

  She stopped typing before hitting return. Then why what? Why had he never tried anything when she didn’t want to be touched? What had she expected of him?

  “—didn’t you ever say anything?”

  “I’m not good at talking. Or…initiating…stuff.”

  It hit her, clear as day. Brady was not the initiator, never had been. Every time they were intimate, it was because she’d struck the match. And now, after last night, she finally understood why.

  Sam tapped her fingers once, twice, then started to type.

  “How long have you wanted me to dominate you?”

  Maybe this was a new beginning for them, or maybe it was the beginning of the end. Either way, she had to know.

  A good minute passed before he keyed a response.

  “I always have.”

  God. Her legs swung open of their own will. She sat forward in the chair, watching those bouncing dots stop, then start, then stop again. Clearly he was trying to get words out, but something was holding him back. She put her hands to the keyboard.

  “You can ask me questions, too, you know.”

  “I thought—” His typing abruptly cut off. Sam waited. “—that wasn’t what you wanted.”

  She frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “I thought you wanted what’s in your books.”

  “You know about my books?”

  “You left your iPad out a few times.”

  She wanted to hide under the table. But she had nothing to be ashamed of.

  “You mean you think I wanted you to dominate me?”

  “Bingo.”

  “No way. I get more turned on when you’re the one who’s all edgy and begging.”

  He didn’t reply, but she could picture him sitting in his office, chin tipped down, pupils dilated. He started typing, then stopped again.

  What did he need? She could read her friends without even talking to them, but her husband’s emotions were something she needed a damn password for.

  “Brady, if you want something from me, all you have to do is ask.”

  The dots bounced. “Can we do it again?”

  She had to laugh at his sudden eagerness. “As a matter of fact, I want you on your knees in front of me as soon as possible.”

  “God.”

  It was like stepping out of reality. Like they were slipping into new roles that allowed them to break out of their old ones and be different people for each other. “Tell me what you liked about it.”

  “I liked making you come.”

  Sam inhaled slowly. She’d forgotten the ache that spread through her after an orgasm, sated only by a good hard fucking. Clearly, Brady hadn’t.

  “I liked that, too,” she wrote. “Know what else I liked?’”

  “What?”

  “Watching you force back your pleasure until you couldn’t take it anymore.”

  “Sammy…”

  She smirked at the screen. She’d bet he was adjusting himself beneath his desk. But she wanted more of that, more of seeing those muscular hands twisted into fists on the sheets, wanted him hungry for her, begging.

  “When can you leave work?”

  “I can finish faster if we stop talking about this, LOL.”

  For the first time in a while, his joking nature made her laugh. Sam responded with a winking smiley face. “Get your ass off chat, then.”

  “Okay.”

  She’d thought he’d say yes ma’am, but she’d said she didn’t like that. She hadn’t hated it, but it didn’t fit as well as calling him pet did.

  Something to discuss later.

  He arrived home shortly after lunch. She opened the door for him. Shoulders huge in his winter coat, he looked massive and intense—a Herculean ex-linebacker geek. A blast of arctic air blew in with him, but she didn’t think it was the cold that had gotten his cheeks so red. He was silent as he took off his coat, gaze never breaking from hers even as he stomped off the snow and unlaced his boots. He unzipped his hoodie, and those colossal arms stretched the sleeves of his gray Captain America T-shirt. It felt like the Brady she’d met in college was in front of her, the one who’d wanted her so desperately, and she wanted to ask where he’d been all this time.

  She tugged him to her by the front of his shirt and kissed him instead. A hard, wet, breathless kiss. His hands inched up, but they remained motionless until she placed them on her waist. He skimmed his palms along her hip bones, his breath came out hot, and when their bodies collided, a moan escaped him.

  Sam grinned when they came up for air. “I have something to show you.”

  “Okay.”

  She turned, knowing he would follow. When they stepped inside the bedroom, Sam swiped to unlock the iPad she’d left on the bed, putting it back down so Brady could see the site she’d left it open to.

  “Sex toys?” he asked.

  “Very specific ones.”

  They were all BDSM toys, things she’d read about but only imagined using. But Brady remained immobile, staring at the bed, quiet as he fiddled with his wedding ring.

  “Does this make you uncomfortable?” she asked.

  He shrugged.

  “What does it make you?”

  “Horny,” he replied, then laughed. But that ring was still turning.

  Brady barely talked most of the time, when he wasn’t cracking a joke. Now he seemed almost mute. Not that she could blame him. She hadn’t done things correctly. Half because she wanted to soothe him, and half because she wanted to touch, Sam came up next to him and ran her palm along his back. He responded with a short, sharp inhale.

  “I know we moved too fast last night,” she said softly. “We didn’t talk about safewords. You know what those are?”

  “Yes.” How he knew, she didn’t ask. Maybe he’d read more of her books than he let on.

  “That was my mistake. I was too wrapped up in this. In you.” Slipping her hand under his shirt, she scratched lightly. “Forgive me?”

  Brady shivered and nodded. “Of course.”

  “Thank you,” Sam said. “Now, go. Look. Show me what you like.”

  He inhaled again, this time longer, but still shakily. “Okay.”

  They settled into bed, the iPad between them, and Brady leaned over it, swiped and tapped. Instead of watching the screen, she watched his hand, his buffed nails and strong fingers. There was so much she liked about his body—the fine hair on his arms, the dip between his shoulder and neck. Why didn’t she ever tell him that? She glanced up at his hairline, at the scar that was still beneath it, and gave it a kiss.

  He leaned into her. “This is weird.”

  “What is?”

  “Looking at this with you.”

  She didn’t like that, but she didn’t stop nuzzling. “I don’t want it to be.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she watched his fingers pinch in and spread out. What did he need? What would make him comfortable? She nuzzled lower, bit lightly at his earlobe. Brady sucked in a breath.

  “Are you nervous, pet?”

  He nodded. Heat spun off his cheeks. She kissed his neck. “You don’t need to be. As a matter of fact, you’re exactly what you should be.”

  “And what’s that?”

  She put her lips to his ear. “A submissive, showing his Domme what he wants.”

  His grunt was low and dirty. “It’s insane hearing you say that word.”

  “Submissive?” she asked. Brady groaned and nodded again. “That’s what you are, isn’t it?”

  Another deep inhale. An even deeper exhale. “Yes.”

  The admission thrilled her. Sh
e wished she’d figured this out sooner, that she’d always known. She wished he knew how to talk and she’d never felt uncomfortable with herself and they hadn’t lost a decade when they could’ve been exploring this.

  She nuzzled his ear again, watched his shoulder curl up in a twitch. “And what should a good little sub do when his Domme asks him to do something?”

  “What’s that?”

  Sam drove her hand into his hair, grabbed a fistful of his curls and tugged. “He should behave.”

  He drew in a hiss and shuddered. Smiling, Sam released his hair.

  “Now. Show me what you like.”

  He lifted his head. Looked at the screen and tapped definitively. “That,” he said.

  Sam turned to look. “A vibrating cock ring? Very nice.”

  He tapped again. “That, too.”

  It was a set of chains for the bed. She hummed softly. “That’s lovely. Expensive though.”

  “I know.”

  She might not be able to read Brady well, but she knew when he was crestfallen. Tousling his hair again, she said, “It might be a worthwhile expense. After all, I love the idea of you helpless.”

  Brady licked his lips, and Sam let her mind roll with the fantasy. “I could chain you up,” she said. “Turn on that toy and leave you there, all strung out from pleasure.”

  He stared at her. He was hanging on her words, like he used to.

  “We could find one with an app,” she suggested. “Put it on you and send you off to work. Or even better, make you wear it when we go out. That’d be fun. To see you playing pool with Patrick, and turn the vibrations up, watch you miss your shot and double over.”

  Brady flinched. One massive shoulder going up, he turned back to the iPad.

  “I don’t want to do this in public,” he said. “Definitely not around everyone else.”

  “Okay,” she replied soothingly. She didn’t need to broadcast this to the world if he wasn’t comfortable. “Just at home then.”

  They were quiet for a moment. Sam wanted them back where they were. Be a Domme. Be sexy. She kissed his neck. “Anything else you want to show me?”

  He nodded, and Sam felt him stiffen as he swiped again. The flash of red on his cheeks grew brighter. “Something for that.”