by Helena Stone
“Let’s not make any hasty decisions, Heather.” Grateful he just about managed to keep the panic out of his voice, he plowed on. “This has been an emotional rollercoaster for both of us. We’ll sleep on it and talk in the morning.” He managed what he thought had to be a weak smile. “It’s too late for you to start driving back to Dublin now anyway.”
He planted another kiss on her hair and gratefully accepted his reward when she snuggled closer.
“We’ll have breakfast together tomorrow and see how we feel then. We’ll come up with a solution. I’m sure of it.”
Holding his breath, he waited for her reply. He couldn’t see her face which still pressed into his shirt and had no idea what she might be thinking. Words were rolling through his head in a continuous loop of selfish prayer. “Please stay. Please stay. Please say you’ll stay.”
When Heather looked up at him he recognized the doubt in her eyes. Her deep sigh sent fear rushing through him.
“Okay, Jason. Breakfast tomorrow. We’ll talk and then I’ll decide. I just don’t see how…”
“Not now, Heather.” He couldn’t allow her to finish that thought. “Tomorrow. We’ll settle it tomorrow.”
Neither of them spoke as they made their way to Heather’s apartment. The silence didn’t break until they were standing in front of her door and Jason lifted Heather’s face to look into her eyes.
“If you need me, for whatever reason, I’m just across there.” He pointed at the door facing hers before looking down at her face again. So beautiful and so fragile. The need to comfort her, to show her he really cared overwhelmed Jason. He couldn’t have stopped himself for any reason and placed a soft, lingering kiss on her lips.
She couldn’t be kissing him back. Surely that had to be his imagination.
Chapter Six
She’d kissed him?
Heather leaned against the door she’d just closed behind her. She’d accepted his lips and kissed him back? What was wrong with her? As if she didn’t have enough confusing thoughts running through her head, she just had to go and return his kiss? She felt her breathing getting faster, her heartbeat increasing. She had to calm down, organize her thoughts, try to figure out what had just happened and find a way of dealing with it.
Walking across the room, she stripped out of her clothes then put on her pajamas. She’d write about the whole sorry affair. Writing always allowed her to sort out her thoughts, make sense of the jumble of emotions running riot in her mind.
She waited for her laptop to boot up before clicking on the folder named ‘Darren’. She’d started this file the day after he’d died. Every time she needed to work something out or get her emotions under control, she’d written a letter to her husband. In the past it had always helped her put things in perspective. She could only hope it would have the same result tonight. Of course this would be the first time she’d have to write about being aroused or admit to kissing a man, but she couldn’t think of another way to calm herself down.
Darren, my love
This will be among the hardest letters I’ve written to you since you left me on my own. I need you so much right now. I’m confused and scared. I don’t know what I’m doing here. I have no idea why I thought I could do this. Would you be very disappointed if I gave up and just went home tomorrow?
Wait, don’t answer that. I know what you would say. You would expect me to soldier on. You’d be proud of me for having come here despite my fears and would have applauded my decision to go and watch that scene.
Have you got any idea how hard that was? That couple? They could have been us. It was the same dynamic, the same level of love. And it was so hot, Darren. There were moments when I wished I was her. I wanted that big dildo vibrating inside me, a hand holding me down, denying me the release I needed. I craved that kiss at the height of an orgasm.
Jason thinks I panicked because I couldn’t deal with watching the scene. I didn’t have the courage to confess to him it was envy more than panic that made me lose it. I have a hard time even admitting it to myself, or you. But it was. I was jealous. I suddenly couldn’t deal with the thought of being alone anymore. In that moment I wanted someone to hold me, kiss me, love me. And I want that someone to be you. Of course I do. But it can never be you again. So does it make me bad that I cherished those moments in Jason’s lap, that I couldn’t stop myself from returning his kiss, small as it was?
I’d like to think you’d want me to move on. I imagine you telling me to continue living. But would you? And is now the right time? Is eighteen months long enough to mourn a loved one—too long, not long enough? And even if I kick-start my life and allow my emotions free reign again, does that also mean I should be open to the idea of submitting to someone other than you? I’m not sure I can do that. Jason isn’t you. He’s nothing like you. What if I end up comparing you two? He wouldn’t have a chance against the eighteen years we had together. And I like him. I don’t want to hurt somebody I’m fond of, somebody I want to keep as a friend. But I’m so hot. I need someone close to me again. I thought I might be able to live the rest of my life alone. I truly believed my memories and some toys would be enough. They’re not. I’m yearning for skin-to-skin. I want to submit so badly it hurts.
If I leave tomorrow, will the need go away again? I managed to get used to being without you after spending many happy years together. Surely I’d forget Jason within a matter of days.
And yet, I’m not sure I want to forget him. I think he wants me too. That makes it harder. What if I’m wrong? What if I give in to this urge only to discover it’s not what I want at all? Would I hurt Jason if that happened? Do I have the right to take a risk for both of us?
There are times I wished I didn’t know you so well. I know exactly what you would tell me to do if you were here. And I hate you for being right. Of course I should be honest with Jason, give him the opportunity to deny he’s attracted to me, a chance to decide for himself if he wants to see what would happen if we did move forward. I KNOW IT’S ALL ABOUT COMMUNICATION, DARREN. There’s no need to remind me. All right, maybe there is. I’m just not sure I’m brave enough to initiate that conversation. I may not be strong enough to deal with the rejection that might follow. I don’t think I’m ready to deal with the emotions going forward would unleash.
Darren, for the first time ever, writing to you has not provided me with the answers I need. I’m still no clearer on what I want or need to do. And I guess that means Jason was right. I need to sleep on this day and see how I feel in the morning. How did I end up with two men in my life who think they know it all?
Frustrated, Heather closed her laptop. Writing it all down should have helped her. She’d expected to have a clear plan of action after committing her thoughts and feelings to her laptop. It had always served her well, but not today. This day of all days her sure-fire solution had failed. And, to make matters worse, she’d admitted to feelings she’d been trying hard to ignore and, when that had failed, deny.
Barely aware of her movements, Heather walked to her suitcase and opened it. She stared at the big pink vibrator she hadn’t unpacked earlier. She was so hot. She could still hear the woman’s moans in her ears—the images of her riding that dildo, the ecstasy when she came, the love in her Master’s eyes as he’d kissed her while she climaxed. Heather couldn’t shake any of them anymore than she could ignore the feelings sitting in Jason’s lap, feeling his lips on hers, had awakened.
This was a need she could deal with though. It wouldn’t be the same as having a body close to hers, it couldn’t take care of her need for skin-to-skin contact, but it might just take the edge off her desire.
As she shrugged off her pajamas and threw herself down on the bed, she didn’t need to check her pussy. She knew she was wet, open and ready. She moved the vibrator between her folds, not turning it on yet, just getting it lubricated with her juices until it was slick. And still she didn’t enter the head into her yearning vagina. She pushed the button and shivered as
the vibrations traveled through her folds, bucked a little every time she allowed the vibrator to tease her clit.
Her mind started wandering. The hands holding the vibrator were no longer hers. She could hear Darren talking to her, teasing her as her need grew. Darren’s laughter rang in her ears as he asked her what she needed. His voice telling her not to come once he started fucking her with the vibrator, making sure the little rabbit ears hit her clit just that way every single time, was familiar and welcome. She heard herself begging Darren for permission to come when her need grew too strong. His voice in her ears was loud and clear as he said those words she’d heard so often in the past. The words she treasured and would never hear again.
“Give it to me, coinín. Show me what you’ve got.” With one hand lodged between her teeth and tears once again streaming down her cheeks, Heather screamed his name in complete silence, unable to repress the thought that this orgasm had also been a form of goodbye.
Sleep came swiftly after her release. Her mind and body were both exhausted and more than ready to flee to the safety of oblivion. Exhaustion, however, didn’t result in a peaceful night. Images of the couple in the playroom haunted Heather and whenever they faded, Darren would be there. Darren as he played with her, Darren in full Dom mode, Darren at his sickest, Darren in his coffin, Darren fading, morphing until… Jason looking down at her with his dark eyes. Jason kissing her lips.
When her alarm went off, she was more than ready to leave the dreams behind and face the day, even if it meant deciding whether or not she could stay here and explore all the new emotions assaulting her.
* * * *
Jason thought he might be losing his mind. He didn’t think he’d manage to sleep. He couldn’t get his mind to shut up, couldn’t stop cursing himself. It didn’t matter that Heather thought he wasn’t to blame for the night’s fiasco, he knew better. It was his duty, his job to know what he was doing, to keep his subs and his clients safe. And he had failed.
He’d walked straight from the door to his bedroom. One look at his bed told him he was in the wrong place and he walked out again. He could hear the whiskey bottle whispering his name but knew one glass could easily turn into a full bottle and he needed to be clear-headed tomorrow morning. He went to the kitchen and turned on the kettle. A cup of tea, the Irish answer to every problem, would have to do.
He should never have mentioned the exhibition to her, should have refused to take her to see it. Why hadn’t he picked up on her distress earlier? If he’d walked her out of there the first time she’d tensed up, none of the rest would have happened.
Now Heather thought she wasn’t up to working with him. She thought she had to leave when all she’d been was brave, and kind and all too generous. It didn’t matter what she said. He knew it had been his responsibility to keep her safe, and he had failed.
When the kettle boiled, he poured the steaming water into a mug, added a teabag and some sugar and waited for the liquid to the turn the right shade of red. Sitting down at the kitchen bar, he allowed the fragrant steam to blow into his face while his thoughts continued to spin through his head.
At least he now knew why his body had stopped reacting when he played with subs and why he had lost all interest in dominating. His body knew what his mind had been slow to cop on to. He couldn’t be trusted to do his job. Whatever it was he used to have that allowed him to read women, to anticipate their wants, needs, desires and boundaries, had been lost somewhere along the way. He’d have to figure out how to run this place without participating in the scenes. It wouldn’t be easy and there would be questions, but it had to be possible. If he didn’t—he shuddered at the thought—he might well end up causing real harm before too long. He’d never allow a so-called Dom as insecure as he was right now, to play with one of his subs. The conclusion was easy. He didn’t have the right to break his own rules.
The decision brought him a sense of relief. He’d no idea what his life would look like without the BDSM dynamic, couldn’t quite imagine not being in total control. But he could learn. Surely he’d be able to adjust. He might even find a way of enjoying vanilla sex and ‘plain’ relationships.
Of course it had never worked for him in the past. But that had been before he’d lost his drive as well as his instincts. Without those he was no different from any other vanilla male. Forgetting about the high he used to get out of being in control had to be easier than living with the risk of doing serious harm. His choice had been made. It wasn’t easy, but it was for the best. It would be one thing less to worry about, and God only knew how badly he needed fewer things to worry about.
He nearly burnt his tongue when he took the first sip of tea. It felt appropriate. He deserved the pain. Still restless, he got up and walked into the living area and sat down on the couch only to get up again and pace around the room.
Heather. He couldn’t stop thinking about the woman. Ever since she’d walked into his office, his mind had been buzzing with images of her. Even now, just thinking about her, remembering those eyes as they’d looked into his before she’d lowered her gaze, his cock stirred in his pants. He couldn’t believe it. He hadn’t felt anything close to lust in months only to have the sensation return to him the moment he decided he had to give up on domination.
He wanted Heather badly, so much more than he’d wanted her twenty years ago. He’d no idea where the thought came from, but if there was a woman he could be vanilla with, it was her. And there was one of his problems. She wasn’t vanilla any more than he had been. Even if he could convince her to stay, even if he managed to seduce her, he probably wouldn’t be enough for her, not the way he was now.
Walking around his apartment without spilling his drink proved hard but he managed. The lack of clutter and unnecessary furniture helped. He stopped for a moment and looked around, trying to imagine what his rooms would look like to Heather. Masculine, without a doubt, but would she like that?
He was getting ahead of himself. Right now he shouldn’t be worrying about getting her into his bed. He needed to make her stay. He had to convince her he required her help with this party, that she was the only one who could provide the necessary assistance. And it would be true. There were party planners a plenty. But only Heather specialized in BDSM events. She’d know most, if not all, of the guests he’d invited. Only Heather would be able to give him information about these people. There would be so many Doms walking around The Blowhole that weekend, he needed to know who he could trust, who he had to be careful around, which among them had delicate egos and whether any of them were likely to try and take over proceedings.
Would it be enough if he just asked her not to leave? If he told her she didn’t need to watch another demonstration, wouldn’t have to be involved in the activities during the weekend beyond supervising. If he were to be honest and told her how much he required her help, could she be persuaded to stay? He wasn’t beyond begging. He’d even admit to the attraction he felt for her if he thought it would help his cause.
His smile was wry as he sat down again and drank the finally cool-enough tea. If he mentioned how much he wanted her, she’d run without waiting for him to finish his sentence. And he wouldn’t blame her. He’d never let anybody down as badly as he’d failed her this evening. He’d been so caught up in the way his hands felt on her body, the soft curves of her hips, the way her breath had quickened as the scene unfolded, he’d completely forgotten to pay attention to any warning signs. Surely there had been warning signs?
He glared at his phone as it rang, before answering. “What?”
“Whoa, Jason, easy man.”
Hearing Hector’s voice send shockwaves through Jason. The Dom had never called him before. Why would he when they lived on the same grounds? Something had to be wrong. Jason nearly groaned. Not something else to add to his list of disasters.
“What’s wrong, Hector? Why are you calling me?”
“Just checking you and that gorgeous young lady are all right. I saw you le
ave. The beauty appeared distressed.”
And didn’t things just get better and better. Not only had he fucked up, no, he had to do it in such a way it was obvious to everybody else as well.
“No, I’m not. She’s not. Jaysus, Hector, I completely fucked up and I’m not sure how to fix it.”
He considered it. For a moment he was tempted to just let it all out. If there was anybody he could confess to, it was Hector. He trusted the Dom with his life. But he was also the man’s employer. He couldn’t just drop his garbage on him.
“Bottom line, Jason.”
“Bottom line? She doesn’t think she can stay. I need her for this party and she’s planning on leaving in the morning.”
He should have known he’d never get away with only half the story.
“I’m sure there’s more to it than that, Jason. If that was the only issue, you’d find your way around it. I won’t ask though. I’ll tell you this—not that you don’t already know it, but clearly you need to hear it again—be honest with the lady. She deserves it. Honesty works wonders and is the basis for any relationship, work or otherwise.”
Jason sighed. Of course Hector was right, and it wasn’t his fault he didn’t know things were a lot more complicated.
“I know, Hector, and I will. She’s still here and we’re talking tomorrow over breakfast. I’d love to have the conversation in private, but don’t want to scare her any more than I already did, so I’ll be taking her to the restaurant.”
He thought for a moment, grateful Hector stayed silent and waited for him to finish. “I’ll find a way to convince her to stay. If it means putting her up in another hotel to keep her on the job, so be it. Thanks for calling.”
He wasn’t ready to admit it, but this voice of reason had arrived at just the right time.
