Okay, that wasn’t entirely fair. He’d watched her from the fringe for several weeks. She’d also watched him.
How much did he really know about her, though? It wasn’t as if she had giant secrets with regard to her husband or how she’d come to switch to a Domme. Her story was easy to piece together on that front.
But that was only one side of her. She had other secrets. Secrets she would have to reveal to anyone she made plans with that lasted beyond a few dates—or in this case, scenes.
She forced herself to roll onto her back and take deep breaths. There was no reason to panic. One day at a time. She wasn’t even going to see him until Saturday. What harm could it do to play along with him and see where things led?
Closing her eyes, she visualized him standing over her last night. The serious expression he had when he commanded her. The way he looked at her like she was the most gorgeous woman alive while she stood naked before him.
She shivered, goose bumps rising on her body as she absorbed the fact that twice she had stripped for him. He had not even taken off his shirt, and yet she had readily removed everything—including the strip of hair above her clit this morning. And it turned her on to please him.
She squirmed, squeezing her legs together and then toying with her stiff nipple. Without thinking, she slid her other hand down her belly and over her mons. When she dragged one finger between her lips to gather the wetness, she moaned.
She tipped her head back, exposing her neck and arching her chest forward. Suddenly too hot for the covers, she kicked them to the foot of the bed and lifted her knees. Digging her heels into the mattress, she let her thighs fall open. To anyone watching, she knew she would look wanton and greedy. But no one was watching.
She bit down on her bottom lip as she got closer to the edge. And then she froze, yanking her fingers away from her throbbing clit and gasping for air. “Fuck,” she muttered into the silence.
She twisted to one side, grabbed her phone from the bedside table, and typed a text to Rowen.
Permission to come. Please, Sir.
She stared at the screen, knees shaking, body tight, fingers gently stroking her outer lips to keep the momentum going without risk of orgasm.
Seconds ticked by. No dots appeared to indicate he was returning the text.
And then the blessed phone rang, making her flush with embarrassment. Sure enough, his name showed up on the screen. She answered, “Sir.”
“Did my email make you so horny you can’t keep your fingers to yourself?” His voice was light, fun, but serious at the same time. The clear command he always maintained was underneath everything else.
“Sir… I…”
“Faith…” he warned. “Stop touching yourself.”
She froze and lifted her fingers.
“Where are you?” His voice was so sexy there was a chance she would come anyway.
Her own voice squeaked as she responded. “On my bed, Sir.”
“Are you naked?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Did you shave this morning?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“And you read my email.”
“Yes, Sir.”
His voice deepened. “Spread your legs wider. Don’t touch yourself.”
She slid her heels out farther, opening her pussy to the point that her lips parted on their own. She moaned.
“Faith,” he demanded, “where are your hands?”
She whimpered, her eyes sliding shut. Did he not realize it didn’t matter? “Holding the phone, and, uh, gripping the sheets at my side.”
“Good girl. Deep breaths.”
She tried to follow his instructions. In. Out. In. Out.
“Good girl. Bring it under control. I have not given you permission to come. Let’s talk.”
Talk? Was he crazy?
“Yes, talk. Keep your fingers off your body.”
“Yes, Sir.” She whimpered. Whimpered?
“So, here’s what I know about you. If anyone dares split your skin open with an implement or their hand, they can expect to feast on their own balls that night. And you’ve been in the lifestyle since you were twenty-two. How old are you now?”
“That’s an extra question, Sir. You didn’t list it.” She bit her lip to keep her voice from letting him know she was grinning.
“Faith,” he warned.
“Twenty-eight, Sir.”
“Good girl. See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“No, Sir.” But stop asking me questions before you get to the hard ones.
“There’s a delivery on its way to your apartment. It’ll be there any minute. I’ll make you a deal.”
She moaned.
“If you can make yourself come before the doorbell rings, you can have this one. If not, you will stop, put on a robe, and go meet the delivery man.”
“Thank you, Sir.” She breathed out a sigh of relief as she released the sheets and thrust two fingers into her pussy so fast she started panting.
“That’s my girl. Reach deep inside. Are you wet, sweet girl?”
“Yes, Sir.” It was hard to speak. Her words were choppy.
“Pull your fingers out and flick your clit, Faith.”
She did as he instructed.
“I bet your little nub is swollen and pink. Sensitive. You’re being such a good girl. I’m proud of you.”
She half tuned him out, concerned she needed to speed thing up. She flicked her fingers over her clit rapidly, her mouth falling open and her legs shaking. The phone slid from her fingers to land next to her head.
She had no idea if Rowen was still speaking because all her energy was concentrated on getting off, and fast. She thrust two fingers from her free hand inside her and pressed them upward to hit her G-spot. And then she pinched her clit just enough to send herself over the edge.
A sharp scream echoed in the room as she crested the peak and then rode the waves of pleasure. As she came back to earth, removing her fingers from her pussy and relaxing her legs, she realized she’d dropped the phone.
Hastily, she grabbed for the cell and brought it to her ear. “Sorry, Sir. I dropped the phone.”
He chuckled. Deep. Making her shudder. “I gathered. I need you to get up now. Do you have a robe you can put on? Something thick and long. Not some sort of silky kimono.”
She pushed herself to sitting, her body not fully recovered enough to accept orders. Her legs weren’t responding yet to commands from her brain.
“Robe, sweet girl.”
“Right. I’m getting there, Sir.” She slid to the floor and gingerly padded toward the closet. Shoving the bulk of her clothes to one side of the rack, she was relieved to find a thick navy robe behind everything else. She had no idea why she still had the thing. It was too warm for Miami, and she didn’t think she’d ever worn it.
If she remembered correctly, it had been a gift from some great aunt. Or maybe her grandmother. Why she hadn’t donated it to charity by now was a mystery. She managed to tug it off the hanger and shrug into it with one hand just as the doorbell rang.
“Go to the door, sweet girl.”
Right. Okay. I can do this.
If the delivery man was under the age of ninety and not blind, he would never be able to overlook the fact that she had just been fucked hard. Never mind she had this flush strictly from masturbating. The idea that he might figure it out was mortifying.
Still holding the phone to her ear, she checked the peephole and then opened the door. The only thing she could see at first was an enormous bouquet of red roses. Two dozen she guessed.
The person behind the spray of roses, held them out. “Delivery for Ms. Faith Robbins.”
“That’s me.” She set the phone on the small table next to the door without explaining the situation to Rowen. He’d ordered the massive arrangement. He had to realize she would need two hands to handle it.
“Just a second,” she murmured to the still-unseen man as she claimed the vase and rushed to
set the bouquet on her coffee table. Rowen didn’t mess around.
She hurried back to the door, tugging the belt of her robe tighter as she went. The man standing in the threshold was indeed older. Not ninety, but at least seventy. He held out a clipboard. “Would you sign here, ma’am.” He gave no indication he thought it was odd she was wearing a robe, nor did he make enough eye contact to absorb her flushed cheeks.
“Thank you,” she managed as she shut the door and reached for the phone. “Rowen, they’re beautiful.”
“I’m glad you like them.”
She stared at the bouquet as she lowered herself onto the sofa.
“Faith. I want to see what you’re wearing. Take a picture. Text it to me.”
She glanced down. Lordy. “This is truly the least attractive thing I own, Sir. I don’t think it’s going to earn me any points.”
He chuckled. “If it’s that unseemly, it will earn you all the points because it will mean you followed my instructions.”
“Okay then. But remember, you asked.” She lifted the phone from her ear and touched the screen until she came to the camera. Two seconds later, she had a selfie of her torso, intentionally cutting off her head. She sent it. “Sent, Sir.”
“Good girl.” His voice grew distant as she imagined him looking at his phone. And then he laughed. “Aren’t you funny?”
“What? I sent what you asked for,” she taunted.
“Is that sass I hear in your voice?”
“Maybe…”
“Excuse me?”
“Maybe, Sir.” She gulped. This went south in a hurry.
“I’m going to give you two points for doing as you were told, but I’d say you’re in a deficit for intentionally trying to goad me by leaving out your face and then getting snarky.”
“Yes, Sir.” She sobered at the tone of his voice she was coming to realize could and would command her any place any time. Instantly. The last thing she wanted was for him to figure that out.
“Take the robe off now, Faith. Drape it near the door in case you need it again during the week.”
She stood at his demand and headed across the floor while she shrugged out of the thick cotton and then hooked it on the doorknob.
“Are you still wet, sweet girl?” His voice changed that fast. Gone was the hard Dom. Back was the man who could melt her.
Who was she kidding? Both sides of Rowen made her knees weak. “Yes, Sir.” It’s a permanent affliction.
“Good. Occupy yourself. Text me when you’re going to bed. I’ll talk to you later.” He ended the call before she could respond.
Chapter 11
By the time Rowen received Faith’s text that night, he was completely unfocused. He’d been out of sorts the entire day. He’d sent several emails to confirm appointments for the coming week and did some accounting for Zodiac, but after all that was accomplished, he ran out of ways to occupy his mind.
He imagined Faith had a similar day. Only she spent it naked.
He grinned at her text.
Faith: Going to bed, Sir.
Short. Sweet. Informative.
He responded similarly.
Rowen: Sleep tight, sweet girl.
He had almost as many questions as he’d started with. No. He had even more questions. Faith was an enigma. He had absolutely no idea where she worked or even what profession she was in. He had no idea what time she would get up Monday morning or where she would go. He had no idea if she had family in the area or even friends.
He was, however, intrigued, which also managed to annoy him.
He didn’t expect her to answer all his questions today. That wasn’t why he’d answered all of hers. He’d done so to prove he was an open book. Something about her suggested she needed that in a Dom. Her past haunted her. He could see it in her eyes. And it made him want to chase away her demons. He could only hope it was possible. It was hard to chase down an unknown enemy.
On Monday, he got her text at eight. He was at the gym at the time, but he responded with a simple good morning. He wanted to ask about a thousand questions, but he didn’t. He needed to be patient. He’d asked for two answers a day. He would wait for them. If he pushed her, she might run.
It was hard enough knowing how difficult it could be to keep her mind focused on him without seeing her. He hoped to God giving her the space he promised would work in his favor.
Rowen ran his own accounting firm, and he did so from his apartment. He had a home office right inside the front door, which meant he only needed to keep the great room presentable. He had a cleaning lady who came once a week to keep him from looking like a slob.
When his nine o’clock appointment left, he found an email from Faith.
My husband’s name was Victor. He was in the navy. He died eighteen months ago in combat. I hadn’t seen him in six months. I didn’t have OCD until after he died. I think it was a new nervous habit that kept me too busy to think about the loss at first, and I just never stopped.
Rowen stared at her words for a long time, reading them over and over again. She had given him something. He knew it was hard for her. He also noted she had skipped questions one and two again. Intentionally?
It didn’t matter. Any question she answered he would appreciate.
Thank you for sharing, sweet girl. I hope you’re having a good day.
He sent that short message after deliberating for a while. He could have written two pages, but decided after the lengthy email he’d sent Sunday, less was more.
Taking a risk, seeing as he had no idea what her sweet tooth looked like, he had a box of dark chocolates delivered later that evening. At ten o’clock he got a text.
The chocolates were wonderful, Sir. Thank you. If you keep sending deliveries to my apartment, I’ll get a reputation among delivery drivers all over the city as the woman who always opens the door in a ridiculous thick robe. This is Miami. I look suspicious.
He plopped down on the couch with a smile and called her. He’d been patient all day. He couldn’t go another moment without hearing her voice.
He was still grinning when she answered.
“Hey, sweet girl. You think delivery people all over Miami have a secret society and compare notes?” he teased.
She giggled, the sound going straight to his cock. “Maybe. If it spreads around social media, we’ll know.”
“That would be bad. You have a point.”
“It could be worse,” she added hesitantly.
“Sweet girl, it could be so much worse.”
“I appreciate the gesture, Sir.”
He loved it when she spoke to him in that tone and called him Sir. His cock grew stiffer, and he had to adjust it. “Trust me, I wouldn’t share your body with random strangers at the door.”
“Noted, Sir.”
“How was your day?” Innocuous enough question.
“Busy, Sir. I’m sliding into bed now. That’s why I texted.”
“You sound tired.”
“I didn’t sleep much last night.”
“Sorry to hear that. Can I do anything to help?”
She giggled again. “I’m pretty sure you caused my lack of sleep, Sir. So, no. Unless you can arrange for my brain to shut down and stop pondering the implications of submitting to you, I don’t think you can help.”
Damn. He considered his next words carefully, unzipping his jeans to release his straining cock. “Is submitting to me, even from a distance, adding stress to your life?”
She sighed. “Not going to lie. Yes. But that doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing. I need to do this. It’s time. It’s past time.”
“Submit to a new Dom, you mean,” he stated gently.
“Yes. And Rowen…” She stopped speaking mid-thought.
“You can say anything to me, Faith. I’m listening.”
“Yeah, that’s the problem. You’re too…perfect.”
He swallowed. Was this an it’s-not-you-it’s-me speech?
“That came out wrong.”
>
“Sweet girl, it’s not my intention to add stress to your life. That’s why I suggested this week of separation. You need to ease back into the lifestyle. I don’t want you to feel pressure from me.”
“I don’t, Sir. Really, I don’t. It might be easier if I did feel pressured.” A soft chuckle that held no trace of humor followed those words before she continued. “It’s easy for me to follow orders. It comes naturally. And it’s been so long and it feels so good. Too good. Scary good.”
“Take your time. Let yourself feel. There’s no rush.”
“I’m not being fair to you.”
“Let me worry about what’s fair to me. I suggested this arrangement, and I’m still one hundred percent committed. It doesn’t matter the outcome. I’m here to help.”
There was a long pause, only her deep breaths filling the silence. “There’s so much you don’t know about me.”
“And you’ll fill me in when you’re ready.”
“It’s not all sunshine and roses.”
“No one’s closet is, sweet girl.”
“Yours is. Your closet is damn near empty. Whatever was on the shelves, you handed to me on a silver platter and left the door open.”
He rubbed his forehead with his thumb and middle finger. “I can’t deny you have a point. It’s not like my life was filled with balloons. But I don’t have secrets. My dad died when I was very young. When I was ten, my mom got pregnant with a man who freaked out, took off, and never came back.
“I became the man of the house when Sasha was born. I grew up too early. I was forced to grow up even faster twelve years later when my mom dropped dead from an aneurysm. I was twenty-two. I had just gotten out of the service. I had four years of college ahead of me, two jobs, and a young girl to raise.
“My life isn’t pretty, but it isn’t something I keep secret either. I’m an open book. I have no reason not to be. I don’t say these things so you’ll feel sorry for me. I say them so you’ll understand where I come from.
Obeying Rowen Page 10
