Mission Statement

by Catherine Gardiene

  “Oh, Vicki,” he murmured. He reached for her, pulling her from her chair and into his lap. “This is so much for you to deal with, isn’t it?” He ran his open hand up and down her back, soothing her. “There’s nothing wrong with you, just like there’s nothing wrong with me. Judging what’s right and wrong when it comes to intimacy? Well, it’s a waste of time, if you ask me. And it’s all subjective.”

  Placing his hands on the sides of her face, he forced her to make eye contact with him.

  “Giving orders—pushing you around, as you called it—appeals to me. But what turns me on isn’t giving the command. It’s when you follow the order. When you surrender your will to my demands, it drives me insane. And I’m willing to bet it’s the same feeling you get when you let go, when you let me take responsibility for making things exciting, making them exquisite, that turns you on. The submission makes it better because it’s not boring. You have to trust I’m going to take care of you, but know I’m going to challenge you. And in a way, I think you have to command yourself. All I can do is tell you what I want. It’s still your choice.”

  She had difficulty looking at him and kept averting her gaze. He didn’t release her. What he was saying made sense, but years of preconceived ideas about sex and intimacy were going to take time to sort through.

  “I want to show you as many options as I can, and the club is an easy way for me to do it. If you’re not ready for anything public, I promise you, I’ll honor that.” He pulled her forward for a quick kiss. “Even if something tells me you might just get off on playing in a corner where anyone could see us, I’ll wait for you to be more comfortable with this lifestyle first.” He released her face to cocoon her hands in his own.

  “My mother always told me that something worth having is worth waiting for. I’ve been waiting for you for months. I’ll wait a little longer if I have to, sweetheart. I just want to show you a little bit of my world, give you a chance to tell me what you think.” Rubbing his thumbs over her knuckles, he asked her again. “I know you’re not comfortable talking. I thought maybe if I showed you, you could react and help me learn what you might be willing to explore with me. I can show you my limits too.”

  He laughed at her look of surprise.

  “Yes, Vicki, I have limits,” he admitted. “And they change over time. Yours will too. But I’ve got some hard limits that probably won’t ever change.”

  There it was—her biggest fear. What if things that fell short of his limits were far beyond anything she’d be willing to try? As much as it scared her, she had to know. She asked him quietly, “Like what?”

  He sighed. “We already talked about pain. I’m not a big fan of receiving it, and there’s a limit to how much I’ll give. I don’t draw blood, and I don’t like any play involving blood. I could never do anything that leaves permanent marks. Nothing with urination or defecation, absolutely nothing with children or animals.” He looked disgusted as he detailed the last things, and she grimaced. “And while I’ll play with multiple partners, sex with other men isn’t my scene.” Before she could ask him to clarify that statement, he continued.

  “I like control. I like bondage, spanking, and other impact toys that don’t do more than make your skin red or pink and very sensitive.” He rubbed a hand on her thigh as a gleam formed in his eye. “I really, really like sex. All kinds. Vaginal, oral, anal, fucking your tits… Any time I can put my dick and your body in close proximity, I’m all for it.” He grinned broadly and squeezed her hand; she trembled beneath him. “I love controlling your orgasms. Lucky for you I like watching you have them a lot more than telling you that you can’t.”

  Her mouth opened slightly and need rushed through her as he talked about what he liked and what he wanted. She winced at the idea of anal sex, but all the other things had sounded good. Right up until he talked about controlling her orgasms. She hadn’t talked to him about the whole “permission” thing, but she knew they needed to have that discussion.

  “About the orgasm thing… I mean, they’re my orgasms.” Her words came out in a rush so he didn’t interrupt. “Aside from the magic of today, I don’t have them all that often. But when I do, they just happen. I can’t make them happen, or come on command like you seem to think I can. I sure as hell have no intention of not having one because you’re in a mood.” She crossed her arms and glared at him. He needed to understand the miracle of the O. Hell, he acted like women had them as easily as breathing.

  He shook his head slightly and spoke to her quietly, as if explaining something to a child. The caress of his thumb caused her nipples to harden. “This is my body when we’re playing. When you give it to me, it means you trust me to take care of you, and you don’t need to make anything happen. That’s my job. But that means I also get to say when something won’t happen. They aren’t your orgasms; they’re mine. You only have to obey and I’ll give you pleasure.”

  He pinched both of her nipples more aggressively. “Today wasn’t magic. When you surrender to me, your body wants this. Just because you didn’t have them often before doesn’t mean you won’t now.” He tugged at her breasts. “You’re aroused from this, aren’t you? If I touched your pussy, it would be wet, wouldn’t it?”

  She blushed furiously but nodded.

  “This embarrassment is something we have to work on. Tell me. Say you’re wet.” He continued to tease her breasts, his words only adding to her arousal.

  Sputtering, she finally whispered, “Yes, dammit. I’m excited.” He glared, and she looked down before giving him what he wanted. “I’m wet.”

  “Where are you wet?”

  Her back arched as his attention never faltered, in spite of his demands for more from her. “M-m-my…pussy,” she said with a whimper.

  He leaned forward, pressing his mouth to her ear. “Is that what you want to call it? Pussy? Or is it your cunt? Or your slit?” One of his hands moved down to stroke the body part in question and she moaned. “Is this your bud? Your clit? This little button here will send you over the edge, won’t it?”

  Her head fell back, and she groaned, nodding and murmuring “yes” to his filthy words.

  Suddenly he removed his hands.

  “Aren’t you glad I like to play with what’s mine, Victoria?”

  Without having to think about it, she responded, “Yes, Sir.”

  “And will you come with me tomorrow so we can talk more about this, about what you want me to do with this body to bring us both pleasure?”

  “Yes, Sir,” she answered with more confidence.

  “Good girl.” He gave her a quick kiss and set her on her feet. “But now we have things to do. After we clean up from dinner, it’s time to go shopping again.”

  Chapter Twenty

  “I feel like Julia Roberts. More shopping? God, why can’t I fall for a normal guy who hates shopping? No, I have to hook up with someone who has a retail obsession,” she muttered as she loaded the dishwasher.

  Michael had gone to his car to get the overnight bag he’d brought. He was afraid showing up uninvited carrying a change of clothes and toiletries might get him kicked in the balls, so he’d left the bag until he’d been sure. He had to laugh at her rant about shopping, though. He’d never met a woman who seemed to dislike shopping as much as she did.

  Her head snapped up at his laughter.

  “I didn’t know you were back inside,” she said sheepishly. “Were you listening to my bitching?”

  “So you’re falling for me, huh?” He leaned against the doorway, studying her reaction. Underneath the embarrassment, he saw…fear? Vulnerability? He needed her to understand he wasn’t a threat to her.

  She shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t give my panties to just anyone, you know.”

  “Maybe that’s why I like shopping. Beautiful women give me their underwear when I go shopping. What’s not to like?”

  As much as he enjoyed the banter, he wanted to get to the mall before it closed. “Looks like you finished the cleanu
p without me. Ready to go?” He reached for her hand.

  She mumbled more about her dislike of shopping of any kind but allowed him to lead her to the car. As they drove to the mall, the conversation reverted to easier topics, like sports and politics. The irony that things that normally were touchstones for an argument with others were their safe topics was not lost on either of them.

  It wasn’t until she realized they were about to enter Victoria’s Secret that she balked. She’d been surprisingly cooperative as they’d browsed past window displays, holding hands and chatting. It had really seemed like a nice walk with climate control until the store with the screaming pink signs appeared before them.

  Michael tried to guide her in, and she planted her feet firmly, shaking her head infinitesimally to express her refusal when he looked at her.

  “If you were going to a wedding, would you wear jeans and a T-shirt?”

  “What? Of course not,” she said with exasperation.

  “Well, where we’re going, if you want to look like you belong there, you need to dress appropriately.” She rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips. Michael leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “Every time you look at me that way, I want to turn your ass pink and fuck you until you can’t walk.”

  As he leaned back, he saw the look of confusion on her face. He could tell she wanted to be mortified at the thought of being spanked, but it turned her on too. Chuckling, he pulled her into the store.

  “Let’s go, tiger. You can scratch me later.”

  Anyone watching them would have been highly amused. Michael seemed to know where to find what he needed, while Vicki seemed lost and mortified to be surrounded by women’s lingerie. He was extremely glad in hindsight that Snyder had called. Walking out of the kitchen for the phone call had not only shown him her office and that wonderful ladder-back chair, but had also given him the chance to snoop through her lingerie drawer. Or, he thought, her very serviceable undergarment drawer. She needed more sexy lingerie in her life—that was for sure. Very comfortably, he browsed and examined, checking straps and fastenings, while Vicki studied the floor, her fingernails, and the toes of her shoes.

  Finally he guided her to the checkout counter. There was one person in front of them, which gave him a moment to talk to her with nobody eavesdropping.

  “You know, I was going to let you choose. But since your mind was clearly someplace else, I figured this would be best. You can pick your own clothes. In fact, I’d really prefer it.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m just a little overwhelmed.” She leaned up and kissed him gently on the cheek before running her hand along his jaw as she settled back on her feet. “If you try to dress me all the time, I promise you, I’ll kick your ass.” She smiled teasingly, and a grin broke out on his face in return.

  He wrapped his arm around her shoulder as they stepped up to the register. She finally tried to see what he’d selected, but the clerk was quick at folding and bagging. Michael paid and the clerk handed him the bag, so Vicki had no idea what had been purchased for their visit to the club. He decided he wanted to keep her curious.

  Walking through the rest of the mall, the distinctive pink bag swinging in his hand, Michael silently watched the woman next to him as she worked through things in her head.

  The drive home was a quiet one; his efforts to draw her into conversation failed. Worried that she’d begun to have second thoughts, he decided a quiet and uneventful night was best. It would take all his effort at self-control, but he would give her the space she needed in her head, although he had no intention of leaving her alone.

  She went into the bathroom to get ready for bed and closed the door. He changed into sleep pants and waited his turn. Twice he walked to the door and turned back while she was ensconced there, which he considered a high level of restraint. It worried him that, left to her own devices, she’d talk herself back into her seclusion.

  When he returned from brushing his teeth, she was tucked underneath the comforter. He smiled at the memory of their night at his place. Sliding under the covers, he wasn’t surprised to find her in pajamas. He raised an eyebrow at her attire. It was more than just the pajamas that surprised him, it was what she’d chosen to wear. He’d expected something along the lines of neck-to-ankle flannels, almost like armor against him. Instead she wore a filmy, sleeveless nightgown that barely made it to midthigh.

  He groaned. “You aren’t going to make this easy for me, are you?”

  “Huh?”

  “I was trying to give you some peace, maybe just some cuddling, but I’m not sure I can be held responsible now.” He skimmed his hand between her breasts, enjoying the feel of the silky fabric under his fingertips.

  “I figured if I wore something sexy, you wouldn’t take it off.” In response to his puzzled look, she flustered. “You said I had to be naked, but I’m not used to sleeping naked.”

  The low rumble of his laugh drifted over her. “That’s in my bed, sweetheart. This is your place. Not that I don’t want you naked all the time, but it wouldn’t be fair to set that rule for your own room. Not yet, anyway.”

  He pulled her close and gently brushed her lips with his own.

  “I thought you might like to just sleep tonight. You’ve had quite a day.” He explored her body casually, teasing and stroking. “But if you’re interested, I’m more than willing.”

  Her face showed a myriad of emotions as she processed his offer. Her eyes filled with tears. Blinking them back, she turned away from him.

  His chest ached when he saw the emotion in her eyes. Pulling her back to his chest, he held her tight and kissed her collarbone, her neck, the tender flesh behind her ear.

  “Baby, what’s wrong? Talk to me, please.” He’d given her space and this is what happened, he thought. Precisely what he’d feared. She was torn up inside, and he needed to fix it.

  “Let me love you, sweetheart. Please just let me love you,” he urged, rubbing her arms and pulling her into a tight embrace.

  She turned to look at him, and he captured her mouth with his, tenderly showing her the feelings underneath all the games and scenes. He wasn’t a dom hooking up with a sub. She needed to know he was Michael, falling for Vicki; everything else was just a way to show it. Maybe the way he knew best, but not the only way.

  He made sweet, gentle love to her, patiently bringing her up, up, up to the crest of arousal, finally pushing her over as he whispered words of adoration and praise in her ear. He worshipped her in a way she found safe, because that was what she needed. It was his job to give her what she needed.

  A little piece of his heart died, though, at the thought that this might be all she’d want from him. Although it was too soon, and more than he’d ever hoped for again, he knew he could fall for this woman. Walking away from her would break his heart…could break him.

  As she drifted peacefully into sleep, he lay awake for a long time, watching her and coming to terms with the fact that he might lose another chance at love because he couldn’t be what his partner needed him to be.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The Sunday paper was spread out over the kitchen table. Vicki looked up at Michael and smiled as he entered.

  “Morning. I waited for you for breakfast.” She toasted him with her coffee cup as she closed the newspaper section laid out in front of her. “The coffee couldn’t wait, though. How do you feel about waffles?”

  Smiling, he filled the mug she’d left on the counter for him. “I love waffles.”

  She organized the paper to clear half of the table for breakfast and stood. “I’ve got the batter all made. I just have to heat the iron.”

  He quirked an eyebrow. “Fresh waffles? I thought you didn’t like to cook.”

  “That’s not entirely true. Besides, waffles are more like baking than cooking. I doubt you want the chemistry lesson, but trust me. It’s true.” She brushed past him to fetch the batter she’d made from the fridge. She worked hard at being nonchalant; in truth, the intim
acy they had shared the previous night was so different than what had happened between them before that it made her nervous. He’d seemed distant afterward. Remote. Maybe you’re not the only one who’s confused, Vick.

  As Vicki busied herself with waffle prep, he set the table, pulled out the butter, and asked her where to find the syrup. Just as he finished topping off their coffee mugs, she put his waffle down.

  “Eat. Mine will be done in a minute. If you don’t do the butter now, it won’t melt.”

  “Bossy, aren’t you?”

  She snorted. “Hello, pot? Kettle apparently has something to say.”

  They both laughed, and she felt the discomfort that had hung over her while she’d waited for him to join her finally begin to dissipate.

  His cell phone rang, and he pulled it from his pocket. Glancing at the screen, he mouthed an apology to her as he flipped open the phone.

  “Collins,” he said brusquely into the phone. He left Vicki to the newspaper and walked down the hall, the tension in his shoulders and his tone telling Vicki this was not a call he wanted to get.

  Watching him leave, Vicki pondered the man who had her so confused. He was able to bring her to heights of pleasure she never thought possible, but it felt like there was still a barrier between them. It was almost as if he was keeping her at arm’s length, which didn’t seem fair considering how much he wanted her to open up to him.

  She could hear him puttering around and the low vibration of his voice, although she couldn’t make out the words. A part of her hoped their little field trip would be canceled, while a much bigger part fought the disappointment that idea caused.

  His broad frame filled the doorway, phone still held in his large hand.

  Smiling at Vicki, he settled back in his chair. “Sorry about that. Work.”