by W. Winters
It’s not like we haven’t had our differences before. If he really thinks I’ve fucked up with her, though … that’s a different story.
I’ve had enough confrontation for one day. I throw the door open and get out. My duffle is in the trunk; with the click of the key fob, it opens easily enough.
It took me all damn day to find a suitable place to rent close by, to get out of my lease, to schedule the movers and clear out the motel. If I had control like I’d prefer, she would have been beside me.
I spent half the day in the fucking car rearranging my life, and my best friend wants to give me shit over it. I know Ella needs to be cared for. I only left because I trusted him to do just that. Heaving the duffle over my shoulder, I’m more confident tonight than I was last night. I have everything we need for now. I can take it over from here, within the confines this situation allows.
I head for the door instead of dwelling on it any longer. Long, even strides. Like I belong here. Which I do. Ella wants me here, and that’s all that matters. What doesn’t matter is the prickling under the collar of my jacket and the way my nerves go cold. Seeing her feels so damn flimsy now that I’ve left The Firm.
Yes, I crossed professional boundaries with Ella. Yes, I did it over and over again. But at least when I was at The Firm I was guaranteed my nine-to-nine shift with her. I could count on it. Now it seems tenuous. One step out of place, and they could lock me out. Move her to a secure location. It’s a fine, fine distinction. Any hint from her that she doesn’t want me around, and they could escort me out.
It feels as if we’re caged in. That’s what each step feels like. Like I’m walking into a cage. The only saving grace is that she’s in there with me and so long as I’m there, she’ll be safe.
Staying calm for her is what anchors me to the ground. It’s not a very sturdy anchor. This kind of visiting, where I don’t really belong with the company and I don’t really belong to Ella, makes me feel like I’m on the deck of a small ship caught in a storm. The waves seem reckless in my imagination.
My thumb runs down the sharp edge of the key, a key only given to me when I worked with The Firm. Staring at the doorknob, I focus on why I’m here.
I want her and she wants me. It’s as simple as that.
The moment I open the door, the warmth greets me just as the bright light from the kitchen does. Slipping the handle of the duffle down my shoulder, I set the bag down and gently close the door.
Damon’s eyes come up from his phone to meet mine from where he’s sitting on a stool by the counter.
The realization I’ve come to is simple: there’s no chance in hell for privacy here.
“You look like hell,” my best friend says.
I run a hand over my head. “I have a lot on my mind.”
Damon nods, then swipes his thumb over his phone screen and puts the phone in his pocket. From the way he presses his lips together I know he’s got things on his mind too.
“I got your text,” I tell him, dropping the bag and tossing my keys on the counter. “How is she?”
The question falls into the quiet of the kitchen. Damon huffs out a breath. This is close to how it would be if we were trading off shifts, but I’m not working with him anymore. This is a problem that will keep coming up between us until we solve it. Awkwardness tightens my chest and squeezes the air out of my lungs. Our routines are all wrapped up in The Firm. It’s like pricking yourself on the same splinter at the back door of your house. Hurts every time, but until you sand down the wood, make it all right, it’ll never let you rest.
His dark eyes meet mine. “I thought that after what happened, she might withdraw. Close up. I was prepared for the scenario where we’d have to start all over with her therapy and with her trust. But she opened up this morning … I think it would have benefitted her to have you here.”
“Where is she?”
“Taking a shower now.”
“I’m going to go over our new arrangement today.” I drag out a chair at the table, taking a seat opposite him.
“What’s the plan?”
“I’ll stay here. Twenty-four seven power exchange. It’ll be easier to be honest, now that I don’t have shifts where I’m done.”
“Staying here?”
I don’t hide my dismay. “We don’t have a choice.”
Damon’s gaze settles behind me by the door, where the duffle bag sits. “You really have feelings for her, don’t you?” he asks.
Without my conscious consent, I answer, “Yes.” My gaze drops and the pad of my thumb runs down the side of my pointer. “I have feelings for her.”
Damon grins across the table and tells me, “Don’t look so damn terrified.”
“I question if she knows what she really wants. If I even know what I really want. Beyond what we’re currently doing.”
“What if what you’re currently doing is enough?” he asks me.
My smirk in response lacks all humor. “We both know this is temporary.” I grind my teeth together rather than adding, I don’t want to fail her. I’m so fucking conflicted with her. Even my Dom side is holding back. She's fragile, everyone is watching and I don't know if once all of this is over that she's still going to want this. She's still mourning her husband... all of it, keeps me on edge when I think about the idea of us. But then I'm with her, and all I can do is fall.
“Who knows this is temporary? You and her?”
“You and I.”
Tapping his knuckles on the table, Damon shakes his head. “I don’t know that.”
“If she didn’t need me, I wouldn’t be here, is what I’m saying.”
“And when she doesn’t need you—”
“Then I’ll be gone.” I finish the statement for him.
“And what if you become her safe place? You ever wonder that?”
“I still don’t know that what I want would be enough for her.”
“I think you’re lying to yourself.”
Rather than engage, I change the subject. “Is there anything you’d suggest I lead her toward today?” Damon cocks his head to the side and looks at me. I add, “I thought I’d spoil her tonight and we can lay out terms.”
“Just one thing, be careful.”
“I’m careful with her. Maybe too careful.”
“Not just with her. Be careful, Zander.”
Ella
The feeling from this morning hasn’t left.
It’s the comedown from the high. I fought for what I wanted, I won … but what is it that I’m left with?
I’m still under a conservatorship. I’m still mandated to be in the confines of my home until I prove my mental stability to someone I don’t even know and only when Damon, and The Firm, recommends an examination be done. I have no control over either.
And then there’s Zander, a man I intend to give what little control I have left. A man who stirs up a number of feelings that I can barely categorize … especially since Damon made that comment. It won’t stop echoing in my head. Maybe I’m displacing the love I had for James onto Zander.
The leather journal with rose gold binding has two sheets filled with nothing but questions.
All I know for certain is that I don’t have any answers and that I’m a far distance away from where I want to be. With all of the memories flooding me today, I long to go back more than anything else.
Back to a time before all of this was set into motion.
My phone buzzes with a text from Kelly. You’re supposed to hold it.
My gaze shifts to the nightstand where the smoky quartz has sat since Kelly sent it in the mail.
She adds, I swear it works.
I don’t have a single comment to make about the crystal and Kelly’s hippie-dippie solution to everything. If I wasn’t on medication, I imagine she’d have gifted me pot as well.
I’ll hold it during my therapy sessions. My thumb hovers over the button, but before I can second-guess it, I send the message.
Perfect! She repl
ies instantly and then asks another question about Zander. What’s his shoe size? Her question forces a sly smile from me.
Kam must have reached out to Trish and Kelly and given them this number. All three of them have been texting me today. They’ve been asking about Zander and anything else … other than the obvious. None of them have asked about what happened or how I’m doing in that respect.
The girls want to know all about him most of all. The secret love interest. If only they knew the whole truth.
I’ll tell you tomorrow, I write back and Kelly replies with, I can’t wait.
Girls’ luncheons are going to be my new favorite, Trish says next.
Kelly piles on with, Seriously, this has been missing from my life. Love you girls.
Kisses.
Setting the phone down on the dresser, I wonder how much I should tell them. He’s still a secret … at least to most people. They think he’s just a bodyguard from the private security firm I hired and I struggle with how much I should tell them.
At that thought, there’s a knock at my bedroom door. He’s the only one who knocks … as if there’s a semblance of privacy in this home. There are cameras everywhere. I call out while peering up at the camera in the corner of the room. It’s tucked away, small and insignificant, yet it’s one more indication that they’re always watching.
“Come in.” The door creaks open.
Damon told me Cade added motion sensors above the bedroom door. So they’re alerted to anyone coming or going. He not-so-subtly hinted around the fact that when Zander and I are together here, they’ll stop watching.
I’m very aware that it will still be recorded. It’s odd the sensation it gives me and how it’s so strikingly different from when I’m recorded alone. One is troublesome and alarming, while the other is tantalizing.
With only the corner light on, and the evening sun filtering through the curtains, my prince is cast in shadows as he closes the door behind him.
My periwinkle silk nightgown is in complete contrast to his stiff white collared shirt and perfectly tailored slacks. All but the top button is done. It does nothing to hide his muscular physique and the power that lies under the expensive fabric.
“There you are,” he comments as if he’s been looking for me. I heard him come in. I heard them talking.
“You weren’t here this morning,” I say and the statement comes out as an accusation. There’s a flash in his eyes. I know I’ve tested him. But it’s gone as quickly as it came.
“I had a few things to take care of.” He considers me and I do the same to him. His gaze roams down my body and his posture changes, his hand seeming to ache at his side as he flexes it. The door closes then with a final click and he stalks toward me, each step measured and quiet. Like a hunter to his prey.
I can’t help what he does to me. How the air heats and each breath is harder to inhale.
Licking his bottom lip, he stops feet from me. My back to the mirror at my vanity, I stare back at him, noting that I’m cornered.
“You’re disappointed?” he questions, seemingly surprised with a cocked brow.
I answer him honestly. “I’m not sure what to expect.”
“Tell me what you want, and I’ll tell you if you can have it.” He doesn’t let a moment pass before answering easily. Checking over his shoulder, he decides to lean against the dresser, putting more space between us.
“Just tell you and you’ll make it happen?”
“If I determine it necessary, yes.” His voice lowers, as does his gaze to where the button is undone between my breasts. I’m more than aware that this nightgown leaves little to the imagination when it comes to my chest.
“I want you to be here when I wake up … at least if we,” I clear my throat, composing myself and remembering who the hell I am. “If we fucked the night before, I want to wake up beside you.”
The strength in my tone raises Zander’s gaze and he nods. “I will make sure that happens moving forward.” I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until he answers. Nodding slightly, I place my phone down on the vanity next to my hairbrush.
There’s something liberating in that simplicity.
In the quiet, he rumbles, “I missed kissing you.” The warmth returns with full force. My guard is crumbling; I feel every piece fall and I don’t care.
“Is that all you missed?” I say, teasing him without thinking much of it.
“Come here,” he commands me in a whisper. It’s easy to obey. His hand finds the small of my waist, pulling me in for a chaste kiss. It’s simple, all of it is so easy and so bare. Yet I crumble and heat at his touch, feeling more vulnerable with every fraction of a second.
The feel of his kiss still pressed against my lips, my eyes closed and my blood warming, I push out the words that have wreaked havoc on my mind while he’s been gone.
“Damon suggested I may be displacing some of my feelings.” I push them out as quickly as I can, too scared to open my eyes until the last word is spoken.
He doesn’t answer and slowly, I peek up at him through my lashes. The only movement he makes is to run his thumb up and down my side.
“What do you think?”
“I don’t know. I know I feel things … I don’t know what you feel.”
“You’re feeling uncertain?”
“Yes.”
“Mmm,” he says and his acknowledgment is a rumble from his chest. He pulls me forward, into his chest, to kiss the crown of my head, then he whispers, “You still want me?”
“Yes,” I answer easily, my eyes still open, staring down at his chest.
“Good,” he answers and pulls back, letting cool air filter between us to look down at me. “Even if you don’t want me for forever, you damn well better know that I want you right now.”
“And tomorrow?” Peeking up at him, I feel nothing but vulnerable.
“I’ll want you tomorrow too. So long as you want this, I will be here.”
I’ve never felt so needy before. So fragile with a man. James happened slowly. We were friends first and falling for him was unexpected. The security was there. By the time I realized what I felt, I knew he felt the same. This … this is nothing like that and it’s terrifying.
“I’m afraid … you don’t really want me. That you’re only here because you think I need you.”
Zander’s inhale is audible, and it’s heavy and suffocating all at once. His expression is just as alarming. It’s as if the air around him has darkened and a different side of him has taken over. With a single step forward, he towers over me.
“If I didn’t want you, I wouldn’t be here, Ella.” The disappointment is obvious in his piercing gaze. “How could you possibly think I don’t want you? It’s fucking embarrassing what you do to me. How I can’t even think when you’re around.” Taking my hand in his, he presses my palm against him. “I’m hard as fuck thinking of how I’m going to punish you for that insecurity.”
His touch is like fire, the air engulfed in flames around us.
“You missed being punished, didn’t you? When you opened your mouth to greet me and instead you complained.”
My gaze dances between his broad chest and his hand.
“I’m sorry,” I admit.
He smirks at me. “No you’re not.”
“I—”
“You wanted to test me. To push me. To make me prove myself.” My body heats with a knowing feeling as he takes a step forward and I take one back. Then again. And again.
“It’s called topping from the bottom.” My lower back hits the vanity. I grip it on either side of me as Zander lowers his lips to my ear and whispers, “Did you think I’d let you get away with it?”
“Z.” I swallow thickly, not knowing what to say. “I was upset and unsure. I’m sorry.” It’s not that I fear a damn thing in this moment. Not him leaving, not a punishment. That’s not why I’m sorry. I wish I could take it back, because I know it hurt him. That flash in his eyes, that disappointment. “I
would take it back if I could.”
“You are my submissive, and you were disrespectful.” His admonishment is spoken slowly. “Get down on your knees and show me how sorry you are.”
I’m almost shocked by his disapproval, by the harshness of his tone. Shocked so much that I freeze until he lowers his lips to mine, his eyes still open, staring through me as he demands. “On your fucking knees right now. Get on the floor.”
I fall instantly to my knees, my cheek brushing down his thigh until I’m eye level with his groin. As my fingers fumble with his zipper, he pets the back of my head and then strokes my cheek with a single finger. “That’s a good girl. Make it up to me.”
In a single yank his cock juts up. Thick and hard, the veins running down his length and drawing my eye. I don’t waste a second before licking the bead of precum from the smooth head of his dick. My tongue runs along the seam and the act makes him hiss.
I lick his length for lubricant before wrapping my hand around him. He’s got enough girth that my hands are too small to fully wrap around him, so I use both, stroking him and rocking myself as I do.
“Give me that mouth of yours.”
With both hands pumping the base of his cock, I wrap my mouth around his head and press my tongue along the bottom side. “Good girl. That’s it.” I moan around his length, sucking and feeling my own desire build. I’m hot for him.
He groans, “Goddamn,” breathily which only fuels me further to please him.
Every little sound he makes, the hitches in his breathing, the deep moans—they all push me to move faster, to please him and get him off.
“Take more of me,” he says, pushing himself deeper. I swallow down as much of him as I can, until I gag. Sputtering on his cock, I have to pull away.
As I heave in a breath, he grabs the back of my head. The head of his dick pushes in deeper and deeper. Arching my neck so he can take over, I let him guide himself as my hands move to the back of his thighs to steady myself and keep me upright.
Fisting the hair at the nape of my neck, he keeps me still as he thrusts himself deeper. My eyes sting as he cuts off my breathing. My nails dig into the expensive fabric of his pants.
