by C. E. Wilson
Not one lifted their head to say goodbye to her. Would that change in the future? She hoped so. Being a sub had left her feeling inadequate. She crossed her arms tight over her willowy frame as she stepped through the door. Rogan’s impassive face lit up immediately.
“You are late,” he said, coasting up to her. “I was worried that you were not going to show up.”
“Of course I’m here,” Chloe said, smiling up at him. “Do you think I’d leave you standing here for hours?”
“Of course not. Or, at least, I hope not.” He leaned down, wrapped his arms around her waist, and pressed her cheek against his chest. “I missed you. How was your day?”
“All right.” Her insecurities melted away. She returned the hug, not caring who was watching.
Monica didn’t know Rogan. She didn’t know how warm he could be. How his voice could set her on fire. When he reached down and tilted her chin up so she could meet his gaze, her lower belly came alive as if it were filled with springtime butterflies.
“You seem distracted,” he said in a low voice. “Is everything actually okay? I saw your friend earlier.”
“Everything’s fine,” she said, picking her next words carefully. “There might be an opening for a full-time position.”
“Teaching?”
“Yes, music teacher… Ninth, tenth, and some eleventh graders.”
“And that is good, correct? You like music. It was your major in college.”
“Yes, it’s good…” She frowned, trying to pull her face away from his, but he wouldn’t allow it.
“What are you not telling me, Chloe? I do not understand. Based on what I know, I would think that this news would make you happy. Is there something else?”
“No, it’s nothing. I guess I’m tired. We should go get some coffee.”
“Would you like me to get it?”
“No. I want to be close to you,” she said, suddenly feeling pathetic for being so dependent on her Asist.
Rogan let her chin go, looking over her head. “Are you going to have whip?” he asked, glancing back down with a smile.
“Are you going to let the whip thing go?”
He shook his head, smiling and starting to move ahead of her. “I do not let things go if they matter to you.”
She flushed at his words. Weren’t his responses supposed to be nothing more than a part of his programming? He wouldn’t have said something like that unless it had been based off some sort of response system. So, why did his words have to make her feel so good?
Why was Rogan able to make her feel so special?
She plucked a piece of hair free from the mass and sucked on the end, too afraid to answer her own questions.
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C.E. Wilson is currently living in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania with her husband, beautiful daughter, fat beagle and two cats. She loves The Twilight Zone, America’s Next Top Model, leggings and shoujo manga. When it rains she feels at peace and loves a sweet cup of coffee with way too much sugar and cream. She loves the fall because of football and all things pumpkin. Her favorite subject to write about is size difference, but she enjoys to try her hand at all things fantastical.
Other titles by C.E. Wilson
Somewhere In Between:
Untitled Beauty
Standalone Novels:
Matchsticks and Candy Canes (Co-written with Mary Dublin)
This is Me.
The Boy with Words
The Promise
To Nowhere
Coming soon:
Playing Human (2017)
A Death’s Awakening (2017)
This is Then. (2017)
Ordinary, Not So Ordinary (2017)
A White Wolf (2017/2018)
Smoke and Mirrors (Co-written with Mary Dublin) (2017/2018)
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