To Sir

by Rachell Nichole

  Good, he’d said. That had been the last she’d heard from him in twelve hours.

  It’s Monday, she texted.

  She held the phone, waiting for a response. It was a couple minutes before it came. So sayeth the calendar.

  Smart-ass. But she smiled. Are you working tonight?

  This time the response was quicker. Yes, till close.

  The club stayed open until five. That was another nine hours from now. Guess she wouldn’t be seeing him tonight after all. She tried not to be disappointed but knew she was.

  Are you finished? he asked.

  Almost. I’ll be done by morning.

  Ugh. This conversation sucked. They’d gone from communicating daily about important and normal things to utter silence, now to this clipped, awkward crap. And it was totally her fault. She swallowed, knowing she would have to do some groveling to fix it.

  You busy?

  Not yet. We don’t open for a while. I’m going over some paperwork.

  At least he’d texted more than a handful of words this time. How had the standoff made him feel? And would he punish her for it tomorrow? She almost hoped so. One, because he found the most delicious ways to do so, and two, because now she kind of felt like she needed to be. If she’d felt like he was holding back before, she feared this might have turned him to ice.

  Well, I’m glad you’re working, because it will still take me several hours to finish. But I’m so close to the end; I have to write it all out.

  Why don’t you go to bed early and finish it tomorrow? A question, not a command. A small part of her wished he’d ordered her to rest and complete the book tomorrow. Something. Anything other than this detached businesslike way he was treating her. She’d thoroughly screwed up.

  I know I should, but I can’t stop. Really. I would if I could. She didn’t mention she was exhausted, because that would make the strain she felt between them worse. But a secret part of her longed for him to come pounding on her door and cart her off to bed, giving her no choice in the matter.

  Whatever.

  She shivered. She was getting some seriously cold shoulder here.

  Look, damn it. I’m fucking sorry, all right? I needed the time to work, but I probably should have gone about discussing it with you another way. But I can’t go back and change it now. What the hell do you want from me? It’s done, and your reaction didn’t help matters, FYI. This is a two-way street, pal. You can’t just expect me to always be the one who makes compromises. I know I could have been a bit more flexible with the entire I need to work thing. And I really am sorry. I’ll be done by morning. Think you’ll forgive me by then?

  Her fingers were shaking by the time she hit Send.

  She waited and waited for a response.

  Fucking finally. Do you feel better now, sweetheart?

  Yes. No. Ugh. Maybe. I don’t know.

  Her throat hurt. She felt raw. Did she feel better after ranting at him, after apologizing? Yes, but since she still hadn’t really gotten a reaction from him, she couldn’t gauge his mood.

  :-p Miss me?

  She grinned, then made herself stop. Crap. He’d been sitting on his hands this whole time, waiting for her to come groveling back. The smug bastard.

  It’s not totally out of the realm of possibility.

  She could almost hear his chuckle.

  You too, he replied after a minute.

  She took the first deep breath she’d had in days. Maybe this self-imposed separation had sucked for him as much as it had for her.

  Are you going to punish me for being such a brat?

  It’s not out of the realm of possibility.

  She bit her lip.

  Would you like me to punish you?

  She set down the phone and sighed. If she told him no, she would be lying. But she wasn’t sure how severe a punishment he’d come up with for her crimes. It would likely be something pretty rough. Would she like it?

  I probably deserve it.

  That wasn’t an answer, Elizabeth.

  I know, Sir.

  Oh, God. She’d just called him Sir. In a text message. While she was sitting behind her desk. It was the first time outside of a scene she’d done so. The word had slipped right out of her fingers. And there wasn’t any taking it back now. Not that she necessarily wanted to.

  Hmmm, someone’s feeling repentant. What do you think I should do to you?

  She shivered, this time not from the cold in his text, but rather because of the heat.

  I will think about that while I finish the book. I’m sure we could find something appropriate.

  Good girl. Get back to work, sweetheart, so that you can get to bed sometime before midnight.

  Yes, Sir. She set down her phone, a smile on her face and a flutter in her belly. Maybe she hadn’t completely wrecked whatever was between them after all. She went back to work as instructed and let herself get sucked into Sarah and Hawke’s world. A big black moment, a final climax, and the resolution were buzzing in her head. Now all she had to do was get them on the page.

  * * * *

  Liz yawned, reaching for her cold coffee cup. She took a big gulp and glanced at her phone.

  How’s the writing? Chase texted. It was already after midnight. He had texted her a couple of times while she’d been working, and she’d forced herself to stop and reply each time, lest she anger him all over again.

  It’s good. We’re getting there.

  It’s late, sweetheart. Why don’t you call it quits for tonight and finish up tomorrow?

  I can’t. I’m almost done.

  Elizabeth. Please get some rest. You’re worrying me. How much have you slept since Sunday?

  I got enough. Her fingers flew back to the keys, typing well over one hundred words per minute. She’d learned over the years exactly how much sleep she needed to be able to function properly. It wasn’t much, really. She could go a few weeks at a time sleeping only two to three hours in a twenty-four-hour period before she crashed.

  And how much sleep did you really get? He seemed to know she was glossing over the truth.

  I got a whole four hours last night, okay? I’m fine.

  She kept typing. She was right in the middle of the climax. Her phone buzzed again, and she groaned.

  That’s not enough sleep and you know it.

  Grrr. The more you text me, the longer it’s going to take if I have to stop every five seconds to answer you. I’m almost done.

  Her phone buzzed again immediately, but she ignored it, flipping it upside down so she couldn’t see the screen. No doubt she was irritating the crap out of him, but she couldn’t help it. His texts had gone from assuaging her guilt and putting her at ease to overbearing and distracting in hours.

  A while later, she had to take a break to loosen her hands. They’d both cramped up tight. Okay, so she wasn’t strictly speaking taking the best care of herself. But she’d live. She took a deep breath and read through his texts. Each one was angrier than the last.

  Finally, he’d gotten pissed enough to text, Go the fuck to bed. Now.

  That last text had been almost thirty minutes ago. He was either too busy or angry to see if she was still awake, or realized he’d put their newly rediscovered communication in jeopardy again. She waited awhile, trying to decide how hard to push back. Maybe she should ignore the way he’d tried to impose his rule again, and not risk making waves. She massaged her hands, working out the cramps, and was just about to return to her computer when her phone buzzed again.

  Shit. Sweetheart. Maintenance check?

  Almost finished. Then going straight to bed. Promise.

  Another half hour later, she wrote The End and, as promised, changed for bed. Once wrapped in her warm covers, though, she found herself wide-awake. Had her bed ever felt this big and empty before? It must have. It wasn’t like she’d gotten a bigger one in the past week.

  In bed, as promised, Sir, she texted.

  :-) Good girl. Go to sleep, sweetheart. I’ll
see you tomorrow.

  Can’t sleep. Too keyed up.

  Her body buzzed with the need for release, her head scattered and in need of his firm hand to regain focus. That last sex scene. God, it had set her heart racing, writing that fantasy. Now there was rough sex and naughty play, and then there was the complete and utter surrender of power that Sarah had given to Hawke.

  It terrified and thrilled Liz. And in the safe space of her words on the page, she could explore the edge play she’d only read about. The kind of stuff she’d never be brave or trusting enough to do for real.

  Her phone buzzed as the fantasy roared to life in her head.

  I left you a present. In the bottom drawer of your small dresser. Get it. Now. And come back to bed.

  She scrambled off the bed and yanked open the bottom drawer. A satin pouch lay atop the clothes she never wore. He’d known where to hide it so she wouldn’t find it without his help. She opened the satin sheath and gasped. Palming the large toy in one hand and carrying the satin bag in the other, she climbed back into bed. She set both down beside her and grabbed her phone.

  What is this thing?

  It’s called a pleasure wand. You’ll like it. Promise. Undress for me, sweetheart. Nice and slow.

  Grumbling, she complied. She didn’t want nice and slow. She wanted hard and fast and now. But he wasn’t here to give it to her, damn it. Three days without sex should have been no issue. Hell, she’d gone three years without it. But it seemed an eternity had passed since Sunday, and she was yearning for release. For his touch.

  Naked and waiting, Sir.

  With each text, her desire grew, her already slick folds pulsing with hunger.

  Are you wet for me, sweetheart?

  Dripping, Sir.

  Good. Turn it on. And put it in.

  She found the switches on the long purple handle. The end had a large bulb, flat on one side but rounded on the other. The rest was a smooth wand like other vibrators she’d seen or played with. She turned it on, and the strength of vibration buzzed all the way up her arm. Wow. She was already so wet she didn’t need any lubricant, so she slowly slipped it in, imagining it was Chase between her thighs. It went in easily, stretching as it went. The vibration made her thighs and sheath clench. She leaned back against the pillows, grabbing for her phone.

  In, Sir. And feeling delicious. She moaned.

  Good girl. Turn it on higher, then play with your nipples. Pinch them. Hard. Like I would. But do not come. Do you hear me? You are not allowed to come until I call you.

  She read the text and groaned. It seemed he didn’t need her to come up with her own punishment. God, she didn’t know if she could last. She wouldn’t be able to hide it from him if she came either. He would know. He’d played the don’t come until I tell you to card before. But always when he was right there with her, judging how close she was, bringing her to the brink and backing her down again and again until she couldn’t take any more. How would he know now? What if he got distracted at work and couldn’t call?

  She reached between her thighs to the switch and turned it. The vibration inside her increased, and she cried out. Holy hell, it was almost painful, so strong she could barely stand it, and it pressed right on the most sensitive spot inside her. Somehow he’d known it would be just enough for her without being too much.

  I turned it up, Sir. Already moaning. Gasping. Pulsing. Hands heading to nipples now.

  Good. Keep them there, came the quick reply. She grabbed her nipples hard and twisted.

  “Oh, fuck!” She pinched and plumped and twisted, increasing the pressure steadily until that sweet bite of pain shot from her nipples right down to her sex. Her thighs and abdomen tightened, straining. She bit her lip, gasping, trying to hold on. She couldn’t come yet. Damn it, where was he? She quaked, quivering, begging aloud for him to let her come even though he wasn’t there.

  Finally, when she was ready to cry, could feel the moisture at the creases of her eyes, her phone rang. She released a nipple to hit the speakerphone button, groaning.

  “Are you coming?” he demanded. She could hear the faint pounding of music around him. God, he was in the main area of the club, probably around the bar. And he was asking her such questions?

  “Not yet, Sir,” she managed to strangle out between breaths. Her brain hummed, her body on fire.

  “Good girl. Touch your clit. Play with it until you come for me, sweetheart. Let me hear you come for me. Now.”

  “Oh, God. Chase.” She yanked down on a nipple, slipping her other hand between her slick folds to her clit. She flicked it hard and exploded, screaming, writhing, tears trickling down her cheeks. Her sheath clenched hard, spasming around her new favorite object, bathing it and her hand in hot liquid.

  His chuckle was low and dangerous beside her. Smug. “Good girl. Now get cleaned up. And Go. To. Sleep.”

  She couldn’t form a reply. Pleasure still coursed through her body.

  “Liz?”

  She made a strangled noise.

  “Maintenance check. Now.”

  “Still coming, Sir. I think.”

  Her body was weak. Her muscles quivered. She released her clit and her nipple, turning on her side and curling into a ball. The movement made the smooth wand inside her slip a little deeper. She cried out as her body shook, another orgasm rippling through her. “Mmmm.”

  “God, you are still coming,” he said, groaning. “How much more can you take?”

  “I dunno,” she mumbled.

  “How many was that?”

  “Two,” she moaned. “Maybe three.”

  He growled. “Again,” he demanded.

  She shifted, moving the vibrator out of her pulsing body and back in, changing the angle.

  “There was something else in the bag,” he said, his voice hoarse and straining. “Get it.”

  That was how he sounded right before he came. Music still crooned softly in the background, so she knew he was in the club’s main area. Would he come solely from the sound of her voice? A thrill shot through her as she reached blindly for the bag, pulling out a small bullet.

  “Got it,” she whispered, unable to catch her breath.

  “Put it on your clit and turn it on.”

  “I—”

  “Do. It,” he demanded. The command made her arch her back, chasing that next orgasm inches out of her reach. She placed the cool metal against her clit and pushed the button on the attached remote.

  “Ah, oh, oh,” she keened. Her hips thrust hard, and she had to hold the bullet against her clit as her hips moved. Then she was spreading her legs wide and moving the wand in and out of her sheath. She screamed. The orgasm tore through her body, shaking her to the core. Tears streamed freely down her face, and she didn’t care. “I’m coming!”

  He groaned on the other end of the line, panting.

  “Fuck. Oh, Chase. Baby, no more. Please, no more.” Sobs racked her body.

  “Shh, sweetheart. It’s okay. It’s all right. You can stop now.”

  With trembling fingers, she shut off both devices and removed them from her body. She sniffed, wiping tears away with the back of her hand. Her body felt broken. Even her bones ached. Every muscle burned, including some she hadn’t realized she had. She slumped, lifeless, against the pillows, her brain fuzzy, the edges of her vision wavering.

  “Best present ever,” she whispered. Her voice was so quiet she didn’t know if he heard her, but she couldn’t work up enough energy to really speak yet.

  “Liz?”

  “Hmmm?” She hiccuped, another sob rattling her.

  “Sweetheart, oh, shit, are you crying?”

  She took a few unsteady breaths. “Yes.”

  The music died, and she heard the slam of a door. “Damn it. Are you okay?” The concern in his voice warmed her, soothing her aches the same way his fingers did after a rough session.

  She rubbed her face on the pillowcase, her brain slowly coming back to life and functioning normally. “Yeah.”
She swallowed, trying to bring moisture to her mouth. “I think I need a drink. A hard one.”

  He chuckled. “You amaze me. Did you know that?”

  She beamed. “I don’t think I can move.”

  “So don’t,” he said reasonably.

  She laughed and heard the door on his end click shut again, then the soft music. He’d gone back out into the bar area. “Did you, um…” She couldn’t ask. She was still too high on the chemicals flooding her bloodstream. Still too far inside the scene and her own head to ask him boldly if he’d come too.

  “Come?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I most definitely did.”

  She laughed. “I have to get up.”

  “Why?”

  “Because the bed is soaked.”

  He groaned. “Damned fucking Dusty. I’m going to kill him when I see him.”

  She giggled. Yup, actually giggled. “Everyone deserves a night off.”

  “I know,” he grumbled. “I just wish I’d been there to see the fireworks firsthand, you know? Four times within twenty minutes. That’s a record even for us.”

  She grinned. “I know. And let me tell you, the show was incredible.”

  “So, when you say the bed is soaked, you mean…”

  “Literally soaked. As in I’m going to have to get up and pull the sheets and blankets off and put them in the hamper and make sure the mattress isn’t wet.”

  “He’s a dead fucking man.”

  “Uh-huh.” They both knew it was an empty threat. The three of them had gone out to dinner last week, and she’d seen Chase interact with Dusty. Theirs was the kind of bond, the kind of family connection she’d never had, and she loved that Chase had someone like that in his life. It would be helpful to him when…

  She stopped that thought in its tracks, but not fast enough. Thinking about the inevitable end of their relationship snapped her head right out of any subspace afterglow she’d been awash in.

  “I think I can move now,” she said, hoping her tone didn’t betray what she’d been thinking about.

  “Good. Get cleaned up and rest. I’ll be there in a few hours.”