“I would like to get it, as you term it, Ivone,” Jamison stated. “I’ll drive you to work and you and I can talk.”
Ivone snorted. “Talk? Right. That would be a new skill for you, mister.”
“Be careful, sub,” he warned. “You didn’t like the last correction.”
A shiver went up Ivone’s spine, and then she straightened it. “You aren’t my Master, Jamison. You’re just another play Dom I thought was for real.”
Ivone was horrified to feel her eyes fill with tears again, and her lip begin to tremble. She felt so hurt, so let down, and didn’t know if she was more angry with herself or with Jamison for the situation they were currently in.
“Ivone, you need to let me in or come to me. Please.” The word actually sounded rusty to her ears. “Please.”
* * * *
Ivone tottered forward into his arms and Jamison crushed her to him. He wanted to take her right there on the hardwood floor, but managed to restrain himself. Even he knew that you couldn’t solve everything with sex.
“C’mon, little one,” he heard himself say. An endearment. Not sub, not Ivone, but an endearment. It felt okay. It felt more than okay.
“I’ll take you to work and then I’ll pick you up after. We’ll go somewhere for dinner and talk.” Jamison figured a public place would force him to stay on task, although he hoped that there would be a fuck in there someplace.
Ivone smothered a sob. “I can’t go to work like this, you, you…”
He smiled against her hair. She was so cute when she got upset. Holy shit. Cute. Upset. This was getting so out of his comfort zone. Well, time enough to rein things back in later. He had his woman to take home to get changed and get to work on time. She would give up her job when she moved in with him of course. It was probably something else to discuss with her.
Jamison watched in awe as Ivone dressed and made herself up into the consummate professional. He saw her wince when she sat to pull up her hose and knew her bottom hole was paining her. He searched the bathroom for some ointment and upended her over his lap, warning her to be still so that he wouldn’t smear it on her clothes. He pulled her panties down with one hand and then spread her cheeks with his thumb and forefinger, marveling at the size of his hands against her. He actually flushed when he saw the result of his reaming the night before. Clearly he had overstepped once again with her, and he felt bad. He carefully applied the topical anesthetic and pressed a kiss on either buttock.
“I’m sorry, Ivone, truly I am,” he rasped, allowing her to squirm off him.
Ivone stood just out of reach and glared at him. “Sorry because your cock won’t be going there ever again?”
“Now, sweetheart, don’t be hasty. All those other subs you met were initiated the same way. You’ll be okay.”
“I doubt that those subs weren’t forewarned, Jamison. It’s not about the anal sex. And I like pain. Especially coupled with pleasure. It’s your expectation that I should either read your mind or take you on faith when we’ve known one another for five fucking days. I’m not accepting your apology unless I hear differently.”
Jamison secretly wondered if she was right. He was normally not an impulsive man. Ivone took his control. He needed to get it together, because he wasn’t going to hurt her ever again. Now he had only to convince her.
“If you’re ready, then let’s go.” He distracted her.
Ivone pulled a lightweight summer dress over her head and stepped into some pumps. She looked good enough to eat and Jamison again fought his baser urges. Tonight couldn’t come soon enough. He was struck by a sudden thought.
“Where’s your cat?”
Ivone looked at him as if he had two heads and then flushed.
Jamison gave her his best “you are so in for it later for lying to me” look, and enjoyed her tiny shudder. She might want him to open up and communicate with her, so she should learn immediately that he wouldn’t tolerate a lie. He escorted her out to his SUV and handed her inside, taking his time buckling her in, his hands drifting across her thighs and up over her breasts. Her nipples hardened, and he thought he could scent her arousal. He smiled to himself as he went around to climb into the driver’s seat and turn the engine over. The drive to her office was quiet. They pulled up in front of her building and Jamison broke the silence, although this time it had been somewhat more companionable.
“I’ll be here at five. Be on time.”
Ivone stuck her tongue out at him before exiting the SUV and dashing up the steps. Jamison sat there for a ten count, totally astonished. He then chuckled, just a little. Wench. Shit, another endearment. Perhaps a little change was good for him.
* * * *
Jamison checked his watch for the third time. It was nearly half past five, and there was no sign of Ivone. He couldn’t think that he was again reading her so inaccurately outside of their passion. He had felt her soften for him that morning, and despite the issue about her bottom, he believed she wanted to work things out, to talk. A big blonde tapped across the pavement to him and frankly checked him out.
“If you’re looking for Ivone, she left a long time ago,” the blonde said archly. “I’m getting into that lifestyle and if you are at loose ends…”
Jamison watched the woman push her breasts at him and sway her hips suggestively. He idly thought he might just pinch and twist a nipple and have her kneel and lick his boots to teach her a lesson, and then discarded the idea. Maybe not. Ivone wouldn’t approve. Not that she was where she was supposed to be. Sore bottom hole or not, she wasn’t going to be sitting down to eat her dinner with him tonight. Perhaps she could stand at a counter to have her meal, once he tracked her down.
He left the blonde standing on the curb, now looking daggers at him, and pulled the SUV out into traffic. Ivone was probably at home. He felt her drawing him there and he didn’t question it. He parked close by and ran up the stairs to her apartment, ignoring the elevator, in an effort to blow off some steam. He pounded on the door panel twice and after a moment heard shuffling then a muffled curse. The door flew open and Ivone stood there, wrapped up in a fuzzy blue robe, with ridiculous rabbit slippers on her feet.
“Jamison! I am so sorry! I went home with a headache and fell asleep,” she babbled.
He walked straight in and put her over his shoulder, kicking the door shut behind him, and went to a kitchen chair. He pulled it out and sat, standing her between his knees as he stripped the robe from her, leaving the bunny slippers. Her face was flushed and creased from sleep, and she smelled warm and sweet. Jamison’s resolve faltered. Perhaps just a few smacks and then he would take her.
“Jamison, please,” Ivone begged, fixing him with her curious eyes. “I don’t need another spanking.”
Jamison released her and chased her into the bedroom, managing to crack her across the ass three times before she took refuge on the bed. He smiled and began to remove his clothes.
“I thought we were going to talk,” Ivone protested.
“After,” he promised, and fairly leapt upon the mattress, the box spring protesting their combined weight. He pushed her legs up and over his shoulders and bent to eat her pussy. Ivone quit protesting and within minutes was shattering under his busy tongue and lips. He pushed his cock into her and felt her clenching around him as she began to settle. Jamison once again just felt and enjoyed the sensation of her tiny channel as it stretched to pulse around him. He then stroked hard and fast, abandoning any pretence of control and pumped his seed into her. He rolled to his back and pulled her so that her head rested on his shoulder, trying to catch his breath, listening to the combined beat of their hearts.
“Talk.”
Ivone sputtered. “I want that dinner you promised me!”
Jamison sighed. This relationship-building stuff was hard work. All the same, Ivone was well worth it. He struggled to his feet and began to dress, while she ran off to the bathroom. He then stood in the doorway to watch her brush her teeth and wanted to replace the
toothbrush with his cock. She caught him looking and must have read his mind because she rolled her eyes and spat into the sink, spoiling the moment. He went to her closet and chose a simple dress for her. No underwear. Ivone looked as though she would protest then visibly kept silent. He found himself looking forward to sitting with her in an intimate booth where he could make her pull her skirt up for him. He had always been a pervert, he acknowledged cheerfully, but Ivone made him want to play out every dark fantasy. If she were to be his, then she would have to accommodate him. Except if she really didn’t want to, he amended, thinking about what Patrick had said to him. Hard work indeed.
* * * *
Ivone hoped that she and Jamison could sort things out, or at least begin to communicate on a different, cognitive level tonight. She wanted him in the worst way. He was like an addiction. But she promised herself that he would accept her boundaries or she would cut her losses. He was making her nuts. They were steamrolling along like a pair of infatuated teenagers, and while it exhilarated her, it scared the crap out of her, too.
He took her to a quiet, well-appointed restaurant, and made a show of consulting with her before ordering their meal. She waited for the server to pour their wine before she began.
“Can we be totally up front with one another, Jamison?”
He stared back at her intently and then nodded.
“This doesn’t feel like play, Jamison,” she said. “I mostly like what we have done together, but while I feel very close to you, I honestly can’t read your mind.”
“I rarely explain myself, Ivone. I don’t have to. My word in my business is law, and I don’t entertain many challenges. I have extended this approach in all the other areas of my life. I won’t bore you with the reasons for this.”
“You don’t have to explain the reasons, Jamison, if you don’t want to, but part of really connecting with another person is to let that person in. Let them in to share both your joy and sadness.”
Jamison concentrated on cutting his steak, and seemed to avoid her eyes. Finally, he looked up and gave another nod, this one reflecting very real caution. Ivone took a breath and tried again.
“I don’t expect you to unburden yourself all at once, honey.” She hid a smile when Jamison’s eyes flared at the endearment. “But I want to get to know you, all about you, and I need to share with you. I’ve learned that I need that in a relationship. We’ve been very sexual with one another, and while there’s a really strong emotional component under all of that, well, I don’t think it’s enough unless we work on sharing.”
Ivone worked her way through her salad and pushed little pieces of steak around her plate, waiting for Jamison to process and hopefully respond to her heartfelt statement. She wasn’t going to let him off easily, but the silence was taking its toll. She didn’t need continual conversation, but she did require some. His abrupt reentry into the dialogue made her start.
“I’ll do my best and perhaps you’ll keep reminding me, Ivone.” Jamison’s almost formal response clearly reflected his inner turmoil. Ivone could feel it, despite his attempt to cover it. But it was a start, and she smiled at him and reached out to touch his hand. He turned it to capture hers and they just sat there in the moment, their food forgotten.
* * * *
Two months after their initial meeting, Jamison indicated that he would prefer it if Ivone moved in with him and gave up her job. He had prepared a contract that, while nullifying any legal rights she might have as his actual live-in, more than adequately provided for her for up to a year should they decide to separate, and adjusted for the cost of living. She well remembered how Jamison had tried to both convey his hope and enthusiasm while being careful not to appear pushy.
“I took the liberty of having my attorney advise me on this contract, Ivone, so I can assure you it is fair. I want to know that you are going to be available whenever I should want you, not just for my baser needs,” he had hurried to assure her, “but I do travel for business and you of course will come with me.”
Ivone knew that the settlement would give her the necessary time to find a place and secure employment if they terminated the relationship, although she sincerely hoped that would never come to pass. There was a part of her, deeply buried, that secretly hoped Jamison would make a different contract with her in time, that he would want to marry her, but she understood that whatever drove him to protect himself might not bend enough to allow for marriage. She determinedly told herself that she would be happy with what he was capable of. He was opening up to her each and every day, albeit in baby steps. It was like he was rusty, stifled, or that some things were totally foreign to him, like talking about simple things such as how his day had gone. Ivone did her best to overlook his slipups and hoped he would eventually not feel such a need to protect himself, at least not from her. She wasn’t going to do anything to maliciously hurt him or make him regret his metamorphosis. At some point he might even come to profess his love for her verbally, because she wasn’t telling him first. There was enough of her own history she hadn’t yet dealt with, that kept her from sharing that ultimate feeling. Because once you said it, the other person had you, body and soul, and could use it against you. There was no coming back if they misused it.
In turn, Ivone reminded him about her parents’ relationship and how she was determined not to repeat their mistakes. Jamison seemed to understand her fears and tried to balance their strong physical encounters with more dialogue. She didn’t worry that he would cheat on her, like her father had done to her mom. Jamison’s possessiveness kept her by his side nearly every hour of the day. He installed a lock on his office door so that he could fuck her on his desk or over his chair, or sometimes on the heirloom carpet that covered the office floor. Ivone had a fond memory of one time when Jamison bound her to his desk, spread eagle, after stripping off her clothes, blindfolding her, and clamping her nipples and clit, attaching the clamps with a fine gold chain.
“You will not come without permission, Ivone,” he cautioned her. “And you will also remain silent.”
He then made a conference call while he tormented each nub with a vibrator and his fingertips. Ivone had hovered on the edge for what seemed like hours until he finally ended the call and shoved himself deep inside of her, ordering her to come as he popped the clamps, letting her vagina milk his heavy erection of his seed. Never had she felt so connected to him without an additional bite of pain.
He tried to exert his will over every aspect of her life, and for the most part, Ivone allowed it. She loved the clothes he chose for her to wear, and didn’t object to his expectation that she eat healthily. He had amazing taste in hairstyles and jewelry, and they shared the same taste in literature. The only time she balked was when he wouldn’t share the remote and expected her to watch football and other loud sports. She recognized and appreciated the compromise when he would cuddle with her while she watched a design show, something he clearly had little interest in. Mind you, she didn’t really get to see much of those shows, being either fucked silly or licked to orgasm by the second commercial. They entertained periodically, mostly Doms and their subs, but aside from using the playroom for one initiation to preserve the privacy of their group, that room was reserved for them. Ivone exulted in those times, but they weren’t the mainstay of the relationship. No, things had evolved and the kink was now the icing on the cake.
Ivone still worried that Jamison would forget to communicate with her, fail to alert her of his expectations and that she would let him down inadvertently. It would mean rebuilding again, and she didn’t think she had the energy. So she kept him honest, pushing him, making him share. There were times when he would resist, and take out his frustrations on her, but Ivone loved the correction, too. She had the best of both worlds and allowed herself to believe this was forever. Until her diagnosis.
Chapter Six
Jamison shoved the desk drawer shut on the little black velvet box with an impatient hand. His senses were on high aler
t, and he had learned a long time ago never to ignore them. Something was going on with Ivone, and he didn’t know what it was. He believed he had come a very long way in their relationship. There were times when he wanted to spank her ass red when she wouldn’t let something go. It was like being pecked at in sensitive places by a little bird with a very sharp beak, but he had to admit that he was happier than he had ever been, and felt that his life was full of purpose. After over six months together, the intensity of their passion remained, but the other times were companionable and comforting somehow. He felt complete and satisfied. His life now had more purpose than just expanding his business and making money. Jamison couldn’t imagine life without Ivone, and he had planned to take her out for dinner and propose to her that very night, except she had pleaded tiredness and a headache and gone to her room. He knew his reaction was childish, because he was disappointed, but he was ticked with her. He had planned this for two weeks and it had taken considerable self-searching and courage. He wanted a child with Ivone, a child who would be raised with love and care, different from what either of them had experienced, a child to inherit everything he had worked for so it wouldn’t be in vain. He had begun to broach the subject with her, diffidently to be sure, but trying to express his need, knowing it might change everything between them. He had been willing to take the chance after researching how the dangers of childbirth were continually minimized as medicine evolved. He believed he loved Ivone, although he really didn’t have anything to compare that feeling to, and he didn’t want anything to happen to her, even if he really did want a child. But he did know that he didn’t want to wait another minute to ask her to marry him. He thought she would agree, and maybe she would say she loved him, and he would know for sure.
Jamison tapped on the bedroom door. “Ivone? May I come in?”
Young, Allyson - Reason [Club Pleasure 3] (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 7
