Miss You, Sir [Quinn Brothers] (Siren Publishing Allure)

by January Rowe

  He forced her to endure yet another controlled masturbation session. Afterward, her body depleted and languid, her mind resentful, she finally found her voice. “I’m crazy bored during the day, Tern. I need more to do.”

  “We can’t have you agitated, Jillie. Poppy and I are depending on you to keep this family stable. Why not volunteer at the school?”

  “I already do. But they only want me to come in a few hours a week. So all the parents get a chance.”

  “Then volunteer somewhere else,” he said gently. “Now get yourself dressed and under the covers, heart.”

  * * * *

  By morning Jill decided she’d volunteer at the animal shelter. She adored all little creatures, especially dogs. Travel with Tern had always made having pets impossible. Now, in a manner of speaking, she could have a bunch of them.

  Excited and optimistic, she headed over to the San Francisco SPCA for a volunteer information session. The new recruits were shown around the facility. Colorful birds screeched, dogs of every size and nature whined or barked.

  Take me home!

  Cats lay in their cages, noble and aloof. The smells and sounds permeating the cramped cement spaces overwhelmed her. So many animals. So few homes.

  After a few hours of training, Jill Quinn was an official SPCA volunteer. She even got to wear a special volunteer shirt. She worked every Tuesday morning. At first she just cleaned out cages and kennels. After a few weeks, she got to take the dogs out to the exercise yard. It was her favorite job. She taught them leash manners and played with them.

  It didn’t take long before she got a new duty. She became the San Francisco SPCA dog profiler. When a stray dog came in, she’d figure him out. She’d take him out to the yard, observe and test. Did he know basic commands? Did he like chasing after balls? Did he get along with other dogs? She’d write up a personality rundown and make a breed guess. She always saw the best in the dogs. Her compassionate summary would then form the basis of the SPCA website copy. Her descriptions were lively and loving, and she was credited with luring in lots of potential owners.

  She didn’t miss her corset sewing any more. Her life was satisfying. Just volunteering that one Tuesday morning a week made her feel competent, useful, productive. The motherhood gig was resolving itself nicely, too. Poppy was excelling in her classes, had lots of little friends, and seemed to be happy.

  * * * *

  After weeks of begging, Jill finally took Poppy to the SPCA. Poppy was smitten with a black and white border collie puppy. It was love at first sight. Jill took a phone picture of Poppy petting the dog and sent it to Tern.

  Can we get her?

  He answered yes right away.

  The dog came home with them that afternoon. Jaeger, ever dependable and generous, bought all sorts of dog food and supplies.

  * * * *

  Tern was a little late for their usual Sunday Skype session. His brown hair was getting shaggy, and his smoky eyes were more gray than blue. Was he working too hard? Not eating well?

  He smiled warmly. “Hey. I just got in.”

  Her news spilled out. “CeCe had her baby last night! A girl! Finally. They named her Ruby. Six pounds, eight ounces. Tons of hair. CeCe is so thrilled. I’m going to see them later on today.”

  “Awww. A little girl.”

  “And we have a new little girl, too. Poppy decided to name the puppy Joey.”

  Poppy was roughhousing with the dog nearby.

  Tern chuckled. “Joey’s a girl’s name?”

  “Oh, the name fits, believe me. And what a pair those two make! Inseparable. Poppy expected to take that floppy-eared fluffball to school! I had to explain that not all dogs are service dogs.”

  “Is that Joey I hear?” Tern asked.

  “Yes. That puppy yips and yaps. Poppy’s starting to teach Joey obedience. Poppy knows all the hand signals. She’s trying hard, even if the dog isn’t.”

  “Maybe Poppy should use verbal commands, too?”

  “Joey’s deaf, Tern.”

  His brow creased. “A deaf dog? You got a deaf dog? Don’t you think before you act? You were supposed to get a guard dog.”

  “You never told me I was supposed to adopt a guard dog!”

  “I shouldn’t have to tell you. Why else would I let you get a dog? To protect. And this one can’t protect. Sometimes I just don’t understand you.”

  Jill was horrified by Tern’s unfairness, especially since Poppy was within earshot. She hoped Poppy hadn’t heard what Tern said.

  Too late.

  “Joey doesn’t need to protect us,” the little girl said, her eyes flashing. “Because we’re going to protect her.” She nuzzled the wiggly fluffball. “You’re the best dog in the whole world, aren’t you? Come on, Joey. Let’s go to my room.”

  Poppy stomped upstairs, carrying the puppy.

  “What’s that all about?” he asked, his lips thinning with displeasure.

  “She identifies with Joey,” Jill said quietly. “They’re both girls nobody else wanted. Poppy loves her, Tern.”

  He blew out a long, long breath. Her stomach churned. What if he demanded that they return the dog?

  She’d have to defy him. A fearful cramp hit her and she thought she was going to throw up. She hated confrontation.

  “I never thought about it that way,” he said. “And I guess love is love.”

  Her anxiety eased. “Joey’s a great companion. Very smart. She’ll grow on you.”

  He nodded. “Listen, I’m going to make one last big overtime push. I hope to be home this month.”

  Sweet joy streamed through her. She’d been in charge for way too long.

  Chapter Nine

  Jill sat in front of the blank computer, imagining her reunion with Tern. In less than a month they’d be together again. Their reconnection would be glorious!

  He’d arrive around noon. Poppy would be in school then. That would give Jill all morning to make herself gorgeous for him. She’d wash her long hair, let it dry in the wan winter sun, brushing it until it was smooth and glistening. Now, what to wear? Something special and sexy. She searched through her lingerie in her mind.

  Yes. The red bustier. The undergarment was sheer except for the boning. She loved the way she looked in it. The bustier cinched her waist slender, leaving her hips wide and inviting. Best of all, the outfit molded her breasts. Her boobs looked youthful with all that scaffolding. What about panties? Perhaps red satin? Or white lace? Or how about nothing at all?

  Okay, then. No panties. No barriers.

  She immersed herself fully in the fantasy.

  Wearing nothing but the sheer red bustier, she’d saunter into the kitchen, swaying her ample hips. Her man was due to arrive within the hour. She’d have a zesty South American dish waiting for him. She set to work, dizzy with expectation.

  As she was caramelizing the onions, she heard the front door open. Her man was home. She had trouble catching her breath.

  He strode into the kitchen. He’d changed during the last few months. He’d filled out. He was more muscular, tougher, more confident. Her nipples hardened against the sheer fabric of the corset.

  “Thought I’d find you here,” he said.

  Her heart jumped as his icy eyes strafed her figure. The smell of travel and lust streamed off him.

  “Sir,” she said.

  He came closer, and closer still.

  She’d never seen him so intent, so raw, every inch the predator. She was as afraid as she was aroused. He’d never looked at her like that. Trembling with apprehension, she turned back to the stove.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” He growled.

  “My onions are going to burn.”

  “Let them.” He seized her bare hips, whirling her around.

  She squealed. In terror? In delight?

  Both.

  He silenced her with a kiss. Tasting like salt and man, his burning tongue conquered hers. His stubble scraped harshly against her chin. Thick pleasure cons
umed her. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of her hip, drawing her closer. His other hand fisted her hair so tightly she felt his knuckles against her scalp.

  He took. And took more. She relished his wild passion, his heat, his command, his manliness and virility. Every cell in her body swirled with electricity. Her heart thundered. She clung to him. Her knees buckled.

  He carried her to the kitchen table.

  “Down,” he ordered.

  She lay on her back, eager.

  He looked down at her, his eyes blazing with uncontrolled lust. He pulled off his jeans. His penis erupted, hard and huge. Desire bolted through her. Roughly splaying her thighs wide, he exposed her open, throbbing pussy.

  He jerked her legs up to wrap around his neck. He shoved inside her. The contact ignited every nerve ending.

  Never leave me again. Never.

  His thrusts were fierce and fast. Exquisite tension coiled tighter and tighter within her. She held onto the sides of the table for dear life as he lunged. He pounded her body apart with erotic violence. Fear mingled with thrill.

  She became lost, senseless of everything but his force. A sudden explosion of sensation rocked her. Liquid heat barreled up her body. She came, and came, and came.

  “Tern!”

  The cry echoed in her mind as she reconnected with her surroundings. It was a fantasy. A daydream. Her man was in North Dakota. And she was in California. She was alone, sitting in front of the computer, weak with longing.

  * * * *

  Tern had adoption news the next time they Skyped. “Abele finally got a hold of Poppy’s birth certificate. It turns out she was born in New Mexico. That’s why the document was so hard to hunt down.”

  “New Mexico? Weird. I wonder what Kim was doing there. So what about Poppy’s dad? Is a father listed on the certificate?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Is it Duke?”

  “No. His name is Tom K. Trujillo.”

  “Trujillo, huh?” No wonder Poppy looked Hispanic.

  “We figure he’s a New Mexican. The lawyer’s already hired a private investigator to find him. It’s going to cost a bundle, Jill. I’m going to have to stay here in North Dakota a little longer.”

  Longer? A flash of pain ripped through her. “Why do we have to hire an investigator? Why isn’t a New Mexican phone book good enough?”

  “Abele says Trujillo is a very common name.”

  “So we’re having to be apart so you can pay the lawyer to prove that Poppy has a deadbeat father?”

  “Jillie, he may not be deadbeat. We have no idea if he even knows about Poppy.”

  She blew out a breath, exasperated. Tern was romanticizing the whole father thing. He still had the bizarre notion that his own deadbeat dad was going to show up after all these years and apologize for abandoning Tern and his three brothers to their drug-addict mother.

  “I’ll bet Trujillo knew about Poppy,” she said. “And he just didn’t care.”

  Tern scrubbed his face, frustrated with her frustration. “Maybe. But we owe it to him—and to Poppy—to make a good-faith effort to find him before we work on terminating his parental rights. Besides, those are the rules.”

  “What about Kim? Do we have to hire somebody to find her, too?”

  “No,” he said. “She knows she has a daughter and where she is. The lawyer told me we just have to announce the date of the termination hearing by some newspaper ads. In Las Vegas newspapers, I suppose.”

  “Oh, Tern,” she said. “I want you to come home.”

  “Hold on a little longer, heart.”

  “I don’t know if I can.” Her voice went weepy.

  “You can and will. I need you to accept what’s happening and support me in this.”

  “I do,” she said.

  But she didn’t accept it. It seemed like Tern was working his ass off to find a father who didn’t care. Or—even worse—to find a father who would take Poppy away from them.

  * * * *

  Tern’s phone calls soon dribbled to nothing. He rarely Skyped. He didn’t order her to masturbate, either. She’d hated how he’d forced her to bring herself to orgasm, but it was far better than being ignored.

  Jill took to reminiscing about happier times. She recalled their adventures together. So many close calls, so many extraordinary people, so many amazing cultures. She adored their stimulating conversations on the long train rides. They’d discuss mankind and music, civilization and conflict. Traveling with him was wonderful. But if she ever got scared or cold or hungry or seasick, he’d hold her hand, guiding her, protecting her, comforting her.

  When they reached their exotic destination, they’d always make a toast with the local drink. Perhaps a strong coffee flavored with grounds, or a wine made from trees, maybe a coca leaf tea. Then they’d go about exploring a strange geological feature or ancient ruin, make new friends, try new foods, and help build a house or a bridge or a water system.

  When they returned to California, they’d sleep, and sleep some more. She’d take a long, decadent bath in the claw-foot tub. They’d start to work on their projects, he at his carpentry, and she at her sewing. At night they’d make crazy love in their large, bouncy bed. They’d play, too, testing out his latest inventions. Sometimes he’d show her off at Hell Mary’s.

  They’d joyously reconnect with family and friends. They’d go to the library, checking out books on a wonder of the world, and plan their next trip. She’d try to reproduce some of the exotic dishes they’d come to love. Once in a while she succeeded. She’d adored serving him, pleasing him.

  Now all he wanted was to be left alone.

  * * * *

  Apart from missing her man, her life was good. She got great satisfaction taking care of Poppy, training Joey, and doing volunteer work at the animal shelter. CeCe even let her babysit sweet little Ruby every once in a while.

  Swift dropped by about once a month, mainly to do handyman work. He claimed Jaeger had no mechanical aptitude, so she was supposed save the fix-up chores for him, not Jaeger. To Jill’s amusement, Jaeger often came over to “supervise” Swift, declaring that Swift wasn’t careful enough. The brothers would bicker and argue, but whatever needed fixing would eventually get fixed.

  One gloomy November day Swift came over with his tools and his slave-of-the-week. Jaeger was unavailable for harassment duty, which pleased Swift.

  Swift’s slave was named Susan. She was a tiny woman with large green eyes and a waifish manner. She was more conservatively dressed than Merriam, she of the barely there shorts. This one wore a lacy blouse and a long cotton skirt. She also wore Merriam’s old collar. Her behavior, however, was not waifish. Susan hung all over Swift, stroking his chest, wrapping her body around him. Jill was relieved Poppy was at school. She didn’t approve of allowing children to witness anything overtly sexual.

  Swift unhooked his slave to go off to go examine a possible roof leak. Susan dropped to the floor to pet Joey. Joey licked her face. That dog loved everybody.

  “Master Swift tells me you make corsets,” Susan said.

  “I used to. I’m taking a sewing break. Would you like to come into the kitchen? I made some tea and fresh bread.”

  “Oh yes.”

  They headed into the kitchen. Joey bounced along behind them. They settled around the table.

  “It must be really hard to have your man gone for so long,” Susan said.

  Jill nodded, pouring the tea. She didn’t want to discuss her pain and loneliness with this stranger.

  “Master isn’t home enough to suit me, either,” Susan said. “I need maintenance. You know, discipline. I need correction more than sex, to tell you the truth. If Master’s gone too long, I get mouthy. I talk back. You know, I don’t treat him right. So he has to go full bore on me.”

  Susan stood, swiveled, and lifted her skirt. Her bare ass and thighs were striped with pink welts. She stroked her striated skin. “But it’s all good. Master knows how to subdue me.” Dropping her skirt, sh
e sat down, a smug look on her face.

  They had their civilized tea and bread. Susan frequently sighed and shifted her position, drawing attention to her whipping. Inside, Jill was steaming mad. What if Poppy had seen that woman’s naked ass? And where did this creature get off giving her that sublier-than-thou attitude? Especially considering that Swift would be kicking her to the curb any day now.

  Jill was still angry hours later. She just couldn’t dredge up tolerance for Swift and Susan’s version of BDSM. Their kink was superficial and fake and playacting. All show and no substance. Jill felt sorry for Swift. His deprived, loveless childhood made him afraid of real relationships. Susan was an idiot if she thought submission was just about punishment.

  Master knows how to subdue me.

  “Yeah. I’d like to subdue you, Susan,” Jill said to the air and the deaf dog.

  * * * *

  Tern had punished Jill only once. She’d been his submissive for a few months, having the best time of her life. When she’d committed to him, he told her she wasn’t allowed to do anything to her hair without asking him first. She was wilder back then, and didn’t want to obey any arbitrary rules. Not that Tern had a lot rules. Just the one rule. One day she decided to streak her hair. She didn’t ask him for permission. She just did it. She figured since she was a sub, not a slave, she didn’t really have to obey him. Tern had been a relaxed and loving Dominant, so he wouldn’t get upset over something as minor as streaking her hair blonde. Besides it was very, very sexy.

  He didn’t think her hair was very, very sexy. At all. He told her she could either obey him or leave. She was shocked and hurt. She didn’t want to leave him. She told him she loved him, and promised to obey him from now on. He said he loved her too, and that’s why he was going blister her ass. And he did.

  She vowed to never disappoint him again.

  Back during the first few years of their marriage, she worried her new husband might tighten the shackles, giving her more and more rules, until the relationship became abusive. It never happened. He remained an easygoing Dominant. To this day he still had only one rule.