No Ordinary Love Story: Sequel to The Diary of a Submissive

by Morgan, Sophie

  I did touch him, but maybe not quite as he hoped. I gently ran my fingernails up his thigh, coming within centimetres of touching his cock and then moving away, scratching up his body and then back down again. The best thing about doing this was watching how his cock would twitch as I got close to it, as if it was involuntarily trying to get me to touch it. It made me wet – well, wetter – as I watched it and the look of concentration on his face as he moaned under his breath.

  I smiled. ‘You’re purring.’

  He shook his head. ‘Sweetheart, I don’t purr. It’s a low growl.’

  I laughed. ‘Oh really? In that case I’ll keep going for a bit longer.’

  The noise he made then was most definitely a growl.

  I loved torturing him like this and kept it up for longer than I had planned, eventually leaning down and kissing his thighs and stomach, but carefully avoiding his cock at all times. I could see how wet his tip was and I was proud of myself for resisting. I’m not sure he felt the same way.

  I got up and walked away from the bed. His moan of disappointment made me chuckle. He was definitely getting desperate.

  I walked to the bathroom for a moment and returned with another part of his surprise. I’d brought the bottle of champagne with me from home, but the ice bucket and glasses had been supplied by the hotel at my request. It all felt quite classy and decadent, if you ignored the slutty latex dress and his erection sticking up in the air.

  I placed the bucket down on the bedside table and was relieved to find the bottle not too difficult to open. I gradually filled just one of the flutes and took a sip while he watched me, looking amused but a little confused too.

  When I brought the glass to my lips for a second time I took more of a mouthful of the champagne. However, instead of swallowing, I held the cold, fizzing liquid in my mouth as I climbed back onto the bed and slipped my lips over his cock.

  He cried out as I swirled the champagne round him with my tongue before moving up and down. He was back to muttering profanities at me in which the word ‘fuck’ featured prominently – it was all quite complimentary in a slightly aggressive way. I made eye contact with him and smiled as the liquid gradually warmed up and lost its fizz. I removed my mouth and swallowed before reaching for another mouthful and repeating the process.

  Eventually, as my glass became emptier, I tipped it to his lips so he could have a sip too. I liked my way of drinking it better, though. Not for polite company, admittedly, but it worked for us.

  I started to use my hands on his shaft and balls, massaging and teasing as I moved my tongue around him. I shifted my position so that I was on my knees on the bed with my arse facing him. From this position I knew he’d be able to see up the latex dress. I was bare and – by this point – very wet underneath the dress. I blushed at the thought of his view but I knew he’d love it, even before he told me so and called me his dirty girl.

  I quickened my pace and I heard his breath begin to get fast and shallow, which meant only one thing. It was time to stop.

  I thought he might go mad from this level of teasing but I wanted to give him one more treat before I finally gave him relief. I moved up the bed and straddled his face so that he was staring straight up at my wetness.

  He loved going down on me and one of his favourite positions to do this was for me to ride his face. I know, face-sitting is supposedly the mainstay of dominant women. Not with Adam. He said he didn’t really care if this wasn’t a particularly dominant way to do it, it got him off. He was never someone concerned by trying to maintain an air of superiority – which explained his stupid naked dances round the bedroom on a Saturday morning while serenading me with whatever song was playing on the radio. He knew that when the dynamic changed I would submit to him without question, and the rest of the time we could just be us.

  Of course, he wasn’t going to get what he wanted that easily. I kept myself just inches away from his face and slowly rolled up the dress so I could spread my legs a little wider. I reached down and gently stroked my fingers up and down my lips. He loved watching me masturbate; usually I found it a bit embarrassing to do, but in this situation, teasing him in this way, I grinned as my face flushed.

  He was able to be much more vocal than I would have been in that situation and started telling me how much he loved watching this and how much it turned him on. I pushed my fingers deep inside myself and moaned as I realised how desperate I was for relief too. I removed my hand and circled his lips, coating them in my wetness. He licked them eagerly and then sucked on my fingers hungrily.

  I rubbed myself while he whispered filthy things to me, practically begging me to let him lick me. I held out as long as I could but eventually his offer was just too good to pass up, and I sank down onto his mouth.

  Adam’s tongue was inside me within a second, pushing in deeper than I thought possible. He strained against the rope as he moved his head. He was desperately trying to taste and lick me, moaning as he did so. He removed his tongue for a second to flick it over my clit before returning to fucking me with it. We were both frantic. As I approached orgasm I lifted for a few seconds to let him take his biggest breath yet and then dropped down again, riding his face as he licked and sucked me, holding onto the headboard for support.

  My whole body shook as I came and I lost myself for a moment, coming back to reality, breathing hard and having that awkward post-orgasmic moment of, ‘Ooops, have I squashed him?’ (surely the occupational hazard of face-sitting). Thankfully I hadn’t. I moved off Adam with shaky legs and lay down next to him, finding it hard to look at his face, which was soaking wet with my juices. It didn’t help that he was grinning from ear to ear.

  I wrapped my arms round him and buried my face in his neck, which not only felt wonderful for me post-orgasm (I often feel a little clingy in the immediate aftermath but Adam is good with the reassurance), but also meant he was feeling the latex against him once again. I looked down his body to see his toes curling beyond his throbbing cock. Poor boy. I’d have to do something about that in a minute, once I’d recovered.

  It took a while, though, and I almost fell asleep in my post-orgasm bliss, until Adam cleared his throat loudly and raised his eyebrows at me as I looked up.

  ‘Something I can help you with?’ I smiled at him.

  He let out a noise of exasperation and I mocked him a little more before finally relenting and moving down the bed. I sat up and straddled him once again, lowering myself down but deliberately trapping his cock against his stomach. He moaned as I moved my hips, sliding myself up and down his shaft without letting it slip inside. He finally whispered, ‘Please’, and I relented, lifting slightly and letting him slip inside me.

  His groan of relief was so strong that I thought for a moment he had come straightaway. I honestly wouldn’t have blamed him – by this point I’d been teasing him for ages. Then he started moving his pelvis, trying to fuck me. I wasn’t done being in control just yet, though, so I pinned him to the bed. He stilled. We remained, unmoving, staring at each other, waiting to see what would happen next.

  I smiled at him. ‘You have so much more self-control than me.’

  He nodded. ‘Yep. But you’re kinder to me than I am to you.’

  I nodded and then leaned down to kiss him. ‘It’s OK, though. It’s fun when you’re mean.’

  He laughed. ‘I’ll remind you of that next time you’re glaring at me.’

  Touché. Slowly I reached up and pulled the zip down on my dress, exposing my cleavage further, releasing my breasts. I leaned down and presented them to him, and he began to lick and suck hungrily. I pulled the zip down a little further to give him some more access and he took my nipples in his mouth in turn, flicking his tongue over them. I couldn’t resist any more and my hips began to move, up and down, backwards and forwards over his cock. He gasped and moaned into my chest as I fucked him, getting quicker and quicker.

  He pulled his head free of my breasts and moaned, ‘Please can I come?’
<
br />   It was the first time he’d ever asked me such a thing (although afterwards he claimed it was because he didn’t want to ruin any other plans I had, rather than asking permission per se. I remain unconvinced).

  ‘Of course you can,’ I said, more in surprise than anything else. This time I didn’t stop moving.

  He shouted when he came. If the rest of the hotel didn’t know we were in here having sex before then they did now – maybe breakfast in the room tomorrow morning was a plan. I felt his cock twitch and fill me. His orgasm seemed to last for ages before he finally collapsed back, eyes shut, exhausted.

  I quickly untied his arms and helped him move them back to his sides. He said they had gone to sleep a bit but would be fine.

  I stood up and took off the latex dress, enjoying the cool air on my skin after the warmth of the dress for a few moments before I got back into bed to snuggle up to him. I’d have asked him if he enjoyed his birthday present but he was already fast asleep – I didn’t take offence and considered it a sign things had gone quite well. I mocked him for it when he roused a little later – but then he asked for a glass of champagne and we started all over again.

  We did end up having breakfast in the room the next morning. It just seemed less embarrassing somehow. Plus it meant we didn’t need to get dressed.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Not telling Adam when James sent me flowers was one thing. When he turned up at my office suddenly, it felt like something I might have to bring up, no matter how awkward it felt.

  It was a week or two after Adam’s birthday. I’d had a couple of manic weeks at work, but the big redesign we were all working on was coming to an end and I was looking forward to getting through the afternoon and heading out for celebratory drinks later.

  I was dashing out to buy a sandwich to see me through the afternoon when I, almost literally, bumped into James. My first thought was one of suspicion. His office was over the other side of the city, so the chances that he was just walking past in the middle of the day were pretty slim. He raised his hand to wave hi and, while I wanted to pretend I hadn’t seen him, I figured he’d just follow me if I tried to dash off.

  ‘Hello.’ He smiled.

  ‘Hi.’ I didn’t. This felt incredibly awkward. I’m rubbish at reading the signs of what’s going on in these situations at the best of times. My experiences with James had proved that I found him more difficult to read than anyone else. I could do without this. I didn’t say anything else.

  ‘Are you heading out for lunch?’

  I swallowed down my irritation. It was 1.10 p.m. on a Friday afternoon. The chances were high. ‘No. I’m going out on a job.’

  He looked at me for a long moment. ‘Can I buy you a sandwich before you go out?’

  We both knew I was lying about the job. And he clearly had something he wanted to talk about. I was curious, proof of my masochistic tendencies, if more were needed. Maybe clearing the air was a good idea. I sighed and began walking down the street as he began following me.

  ‘I’ll buy my own sandwich.’

  By the time we’d ordered our sandwiches I was wondering why on earth I’d thought this was a good idea. It was hideously awkward. I kept sneaking looks at James’s face when he wasn’t looking. He looked more unsettled than I’d ever known him to be. In the end, as was so often the case, I cracked first. ‘What’s up? Are you OK?’

  He took a sip of his drink and nodded slowly. ‘Yeah, I’m fine. Good.’

  A long pause. This was going brilliantly, not least because I wasn’t actually sure I cared whether he was alright.

  ‘I was at a meeting nearby so I thought I’d come and hang around to see if you were about so we could catch up.’

  So many sarcastic comments flitted through my mind. I tried to ignore them for something safer. ‘You should have rung.’

  He smiled wryly. He knew me too well. He knew what I was thinking. ‘I did consider it, but you either have a new mobile number or have been ignoring my messages. I thought about ringing your office but I was hoping the element of surprise might work in my favour.’

  I smiled in spite of myself; it was a rueful smile. It felt weird that someone I had felt such a connection to, felt so in love with, could be sitting opposite me like a stranger. Worse than a stranger – an unwelcome acquaintance. ‘And how’s that gone for you?’

  He laughed, an echo of previous times. ‘Not brilliantly. I don’t think this is the most happy you’ve ever been to see me.’

  His mouth was smiling but his eyes were sombre. I couldn’t even summon up a quirk of my lips. My patience levels were low and I’d tired of the game. It was like picking at a scab. ‘Why are you really here, James?’

  His voice was hesitant. ‘To ask you out for dinner.’

  It was ironic to think there was a time I’d have felt excited at him doing that. Not now. I wanted to kick him in the shins for hurting me so badly. I took a long look at him. He looked a bit tired, slightly defeated. It was like he knew what my answer would be before I gave it.

  ‘I can’t.’ Shit, this was what had worried me when I wrote that email. Ambiguity is why this is so difficult. ‘I don’t want to,’ I clarified. Bit harsh? Maybe. I tried to temper it. ‘I just don’t think it’s a good idea. I’m in a new relationship now, and I’m happy. Going to dinner, even innocently –’ (I thought the caveat was important, I still had no bloody clue exactly what he was thinking) ‘– would feel wrong. In fact, this feels wrong.’

  He looked hurt. I felt a pang of guilt at hurting him, until he spoke at least. ‘Look, it doesn’t matter that you’re seeing Thomas still. I’ve tried to forget you too. I can’t. I wondered if you’d like to try again.’ He smiled slightly. ‘Or try properly really, because we never really did.’

  I felt such a surge of rage I didn’t even know where to begin. ‘No, we never really did. That was your choice. And you told me you loved me then, but then buggered off anyway. I don’t want to try anything with you.’

  He opened his mouth to reply but I cut him short before he could. ‘And it’s nothing to do with Tom. I’ve met someone else. We’re living together, we’re happy, we have a life together.’

  He looked confused, sheepish, surprised that I might have found someone else. It made me want to pour his coffee in his lap. ‘But I loved you. I love you,’ he replied.

  They were words I’d have given so much to hear when I needed them most but now that’s all they were – hollow words. Suddenly I was tired.

  ‘James, you don’t love me. I’m sorry if you’re hurting but this isn’t love. Remember when you said you loved me and that’s why you found it so difficult to inflict pain on me and had to step back from dominating me?’

  He nodded.

  ‘Well, don’t you think if you’d loved me then you’d have missed just seeing me without any D/s, or any sex at all?’

  He interrupted then, but it was a bit half-hearted, the protestation of a small boy who’s been caught out. ‘I did miss you. I do.’

  I shook my head. ‘If you’d missed me you wouldn’t have been able to stay away. But you did. And it’s fine, I’m not offended really. You probably did me a favour. We weren’t going to work long term. I needed the reassurance, someone who I knew where I was with. No second-guessing, no wondering.’

  His question was part curiosity, part wistfulness. ‘Have you got that now?’

  I didn’t see the point in answering, felt no need to justify my relationship with Adam to him. I didn’t want to talk about something so special with him when it wasn’t his business. But I knew in my heart that the answer to his question was a definite yes.

  We finished lunch quickly, with the bare minimum of awkward small talk, but I felt relieved that it was done. He said he’d keep in touch as friends but we both knew, as he kissed me on the cheek, that he wasn’t going to. And I was OK with that.

  By the time I walked back to the office for the afternoon, I had the beginnings of a headache forming across the bridg
e of my nose. I’m not great with confrontation, and while I knew that I’d done the right thing, I hated the fact I might have hurt his feelings, even while I felt a burning annoyance that he seemed to think he could slope back into my life after months of silence.

  I also knew I’d have to tell Adam that we’d met. I didn’t know how he’d react, and while things had settled down since our trip to York, and his business was going well, I didn’t want to do anything that made him feel unsure about my feelings for him. I also didn’t want to make it seem like James was still a factor in my life – it was quite awkward, given that we’d talked a lot about my feelings for James early on, back when I’d not even considered a relationship with Adam as a possibility.

  It was all so bloody complicated.

  Of course, when we finally got to the pub for my evening work do, it didn’t help when Mark jokingly told Adam off for showing up the blokes in the office by sending ostentatious bouquets of flowers.

  Adam’s eyes flickered over to me. I knew I looked stricken and a bit guilty, but what could I say at that point? He smiled at Mark and said, ‘Sorry, mate’, and the conversation moved on, but I knew it would come up later. He wasn’t daft, and he wasn’t someone who’d just let that pass without asking about it, even though he knew that it was probably all innocent.

  Except now it didn’t feel innocent. It felt like an accidental betrayal. And paired with having to tell him about my impromptu lunch with James earlier that day, it was suddenly looking like we’d have to have a potentially hideous conversation.

  Shit.

  We got a lift back with Shona, who’d got the weekend shift and so hadn’t been drinking. We all chatted easily enough in the car about the traffic, the weather, all those random things that fill the silence. But then we were home and I had a ball of nerves in the pit of my stomach.