Obeying Rowen

by Becca Jameson

  He thought of everything.

  She headed to the kitchen and grabbed a paper towel, returning a moment later.

  “Faith, this isn’t going to go down the way you’re imagining.”

  “Okay…”

  “Straddle the seat of the chair, sweet girl.”

  She took a deep breath and did as he asked, lining the tip of the cock up with her entrance. “It’s kinda large, Sir. And I haven’t had sex in two years.”

  He groaned. “You’re killing me.”

  “Just pointing out the incongruences, Sir. Tight hole. Large cock.”

  “Faith, that’s enough. I don’t need a commentary. Hold your tongue. Stick to answering direct questions.”

  “Yes, Sir.” Damn him and his tones. Commanding Rowen made her hotter than any of his other voices.

  “Ease onto it. I don’t want you to bounce. Don’t lift back off at all. Just slowly lower your pussy until you’re fully seated.”

  Seriously? She gripped her thighs with her hands and did as instructed, holding her breath as the slick girth forced its way up inside her. She closed her eyes as she felt the stretch, panting when she finally rested on her butt.

  It wasn’t particularly large. She was certain Rowen was larger. Besides, he was unlikely to purchase a dildo bigger than himself. Though from a sadistic standpoint, anything was possible.

  “Deep breaths.” Soft, gentle, sexy Rowen. “Are you comfortable?”

  “I guess.” If you don’t mind having your legs spread wide and your pussy stretched indecently.

  “Faith…” he warned. “Be more specific.”

  “It’s very full.” She gritted her teeth, trying to acclimate to the intense pressure. What she wanted to do was lift off and slam back down.

  “Play with your nipples, sweet girl.”

  She did as instructed, making matters worse. Could she come like this? From nipple stimulation and a rubber dildo inserted?

  Her clit demanded attention. It was touching nothing. He knew that. Rowen knew everything.

  “Squeeze them for me, Faith. I want you to make them stiff.”

  She pinched both tips between her thumbs and forefingers and arched her back into the slight pain. Her pussy gripped the dildo. She had to lift her feet up to keep from succumbing to the urge to fuck herself hard.

  The slight whimper had nothing to do with her nipples and everything to do with the frustration of not having contact with her clit. “Sir…”

  “Don’t come. If touching your nipples is too much, I want you to stop.”

  She released them, not entirely certain she wouldn’t come at any moment. In fact, she gripped the edge of the table and leaned forward. Her clit still made contact with nothing.

  “Tell me how it feels, sweet girl.”

  “Full. It feels so full, Sir.” There was no way to hide the arousal in her voice. “I need to move, Sir.”

  “I’m sure you do, but you need to obey me instead.”

  “Yes, Sir.” Damn, but he was right.

  “Stay still. I’m timing you. I want you to keep that thick cock in you for ten minutes.”

  Ten minutes? That was an eternity.

  “I’m proud of you for sending me such a long email, Faith. I wasn’t sure how you were feeling after our talk last night.”

  She squeezed her eyes closed and pursed her lips, not responding.

  “Don’t move,” he crooned.

  She nodded, not giving a shit how ridiculous the gesture was. The insane part was that under ordinary circumstances, she would never be this aroused from holding something inside her. No matter how large it was. Without the friction, she had no idea what was driving her so close to the edge.

  She knew the answer. Rowen’s voice. His demands. His presence on the phone.

  “Five more minutes, sweet one.”

  Five minutes? Lordy.

  “Feel the stretch…”

  How the fuck could she do otherwise?

  “Imagine it’s my cock inside you…”

  Did he think that was helping?

  “Do you normally come from penetration alone, sweet girl?”

  She swallowed, prying her lips apart. “No, Sir.” Her voice was weak. It belonged to someone else.

  “Where are your hands?”

  “Gripping the edge of the table, Sir.”

  “Good girl. Leave them there.” He lowered his voice. “Do you know what I would do if I was there with you?”

  “No, Sir.” She whimpered.

  “I would stand behind you, cup your breasts, and flick my fingers over your nipples. Can you feel my touch?”

  “Yes, Sir.” Absurdly, yes.

  “Are your nipples hard?”

  “Very, Sir.” She curled her toes. Every word he spoke made things worse.

  “Feel my hand sliding down your belly to reach for your clit.”

  She moaned. It was as if his fingers were actually on her clit.

  “The little bundle of nerves is so sensitive and wet…”

  “Yes…”

  “Don’t forget your manners, sweet girl.”

  She almost cried. Manners? Fuck manners? She was about to come.

  “Faith…” he warned.

  “I’m sorry, Sir.”

  “Your ten minutes is over. Should I make you lift off the dildo without relief? Or should I let you come while I listen?”

  She responded with the hardest words she’d ever spoken. “Whatever you think is best, Sir.”

  “That’s my good girl. Plant your feet. Keep your hands on the table. Fuck the cock as hard and as fast as you want. But do it without touching your clit.”

  She gritted her teeth and followed his instructions. It took about three lifts from the seat of the chair for her to moan. On the forth, she came. Hard. Her pussy gripping the rubber cock with every pulse. She cried out, though she had no idea if it was intelligible.

  A final whimper escaped her lips as she lifted all the way off the dildo and stood next to the chair on wobbly legs. “I can’t believe I did that, Sir.” She panted.

  “It was so sexy, sweet girl. So very sexy. My dick is so hard I’m going to have to finish myself off when we hang up.”

  “I could listen, Sir.” Suddenly she wanted to hear him masturbate more than anything in the world.

  “I bet you’d like that, but alas, no. Another time.”

  She sighed.

  “You need to get ready for wherever you’re going at noon, sweet girl.” He said that matter-of-factly, not a hint of annoyance in his voice, which made her wince out of guilt. “Did you already shower?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Then I don’t want you to clean up. Leave your arousal and the lube on your thighs. Wear a tight skirt for me, sweet girl. I want a selfie.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Text me tonight.”

  “Okay, Sir.”

  He ended the call so fast her head was still spinning. She’d just masturbated on a dildo in her kitchen. Naked. For a man. On the phone. A Dom. A Dom she was coming to concede was her own Dom, which was something she never believed she would feel about anyone again.

  And she had told him nothing…

  Chapter 13

  It was hot in the ballroom when Faith walked inside. She cringed and spun around to march back out with the intention of locating someone who could fix this problem ASAP.

  She ran right into the hotel manager. How he’d snuck up behind her without her knowing was a mystery, but luckily he grabbed her by the shoulders to keep her from falling. “Sorry, Faith.”

  She stepped back. “What’s wrong with the A/C?”

  “It broke down in the night. A crew is on their way. It will be running within the hour. Promise.”

  “Mr. Lauderman, five hundred guests are going to show up in formal attire in about six hours. They aren’t going to feel very charitable if it’s stifling hot in here, especially the men in full suits.” She had worked with Mr. Lauderman many times, often using
his hotel conference room for charity events. She’d never been as curt with him as she was this afternoon.

  Tonight’s event was being hosted by the local Boys & Girls Club. They usually had a full house and typically netted a sizable portion of their annual budget from this event. If it was too hot in the room, people would leave early and feel less inclined to donate.

  “I understand.” He nodded. “And I’m doing everything I can. I’m confident the A/C will be running in time.”

  “Meanwhile a dozen people are going to be here any minute to set up in this furnace,” she mumbled as she pulled out her phone and flipped through her contacts. She needed to let the staff know they should come appropriately dressed for the heat or they were going to swelter.

  After sending three texts, she returned her gaze to Mr. Lauderman. It wasn’t his fault, and she usually wasn’t so snippy, but she also wasn’t ordinarily under the influence of a Dom who had her totally tied in knots, which both irritated her and intrigued her.

  As if she’d conjured him out of thin air, she suddenly had a text from Rowen.

  Hope you made it on time, sweet girl. I didn’t mean to make you late.

  Guilt crawled up her spine. He so eloquently worded everything he said to emphasize the fact that he trusted her.

  He should not.

  She returned his text.

  I made it. Thank you, Sir.

  Pocketing the phone, she faced Mr. Lauderman again and blew out a breath. “What time did you say the A/C people are going to arrive?”

  A voice she knew better than her own called out from behind her, making her back stiffen. She closed her eyes as she counted to ten, waiting for the grating pitch to get closer. “Darling. Faith. You’re here.”

  She’d known there was a possibility she would run into her mother at some point today, but she had hoped it would be later, brief, and after about two dozen other people filled the room.

  Alas, the Boys & Girls Club was her mother’s favorite charity event, and every year she managed to weasel her way into the venue at some point during the day under the pretense that she wanted to either “make sure everything was perfect,” “drop something important off before the event started,” or “say hello to her daughter.” Which would it be today?

  Faith was dressed to kill. She was always dressed to kill. She wore an expensive, perfectly tailored, gray pencil skirt, a relatively modest, sheer, but tasteful soft pink blouse, and her favorite matching pink pumps. She had put her hair up in a sweeping knot. Thank God because it was going to be a long, hot day.

  Jane Davenport, no matter what the occasion, always outdid Faith. Faith was convinced her mother got up every morning of her life with the main goal of ensuring she outshined her daughter just in case she might come upon her at some point.

  Miami was a large enough city that Faith managed to avoid her mother nearly every single day. In fact, it had been weeks since she last saw her. And that had also been at a charity event.

  Jane knew what Faith did. She knew where she could find her on any given day. Faith was, after all, an event planner. Her schedule was public information because she worked for the city. Faith organized nearly all of Miami’s largest charity events.

  So, it would be easy to find her. Any day. Any time. Any place.

  But Jane planned her moments with extreme precision. And an agenda.

  Pasting on a smile she didn’t feel, she turned around. “Mother.”

  Jane winced, her hand at her throat. “What are you wearing, dear?”

  Of course…

  Her mother’s gaze wandered to the blouse. “Your shirt is so wrinkly, dear. You really need to speak to your dry cleaner.”

  “My shirt is fine, Mother. It’s hot in here. I have a lot to do. Did you need something?” Faith walked away, taking quick strides to get to the table where she’d dropped her binder. She would do anything to pretend she was urgently busy.

  Jane followed, her footfalls resounding louder than reasonable on the carpet. She looked far younger than her fifty-two years, and she carried herself as if she were the queen of a large country. Today she wore an off-white pencil skirt and matching jacket with a pale green blouse underneath. Even though it was too hot in the room, she made no move to take off her jacket—probably because her stupid fake boobs were delicately arranged to look best with the entire outfit in place.

  Her pointy spiked heels were the same green as her shirt as if they were made to match. Her bleach blond hair had probably been arranged in a perfect coif at the hairdresser five minutes ago. “I’ll be at the fundraiser tonight of course, with your father, but I knew you would be busy, so I thought we could talk now before things get crazy.”

  “Things already are crazy, Mother. If you haven’t noticed, the A/C is broken, and I have a dozen people showing up any minute to set up in his heat.” Faith glanced up to find Mr. Lauderman and three of his staff carrying in huge fans. Thank God.

  Jane pulled out a chair and lowered herself onto it across from Faith as if she were royalty. She even picked up a piece of loose paper from Faith’s binder to fan herself with. “I texted you several times this week. You haven’t responded.”

  “I’ve been busy, mother.” It definitely hadn’t escaped her notice that her mother had been persistent though.

  “I want you to come to dinner. It’s been a long time. Sunday night. Your sister is coming. With her boyfriend.”

  Faith lifted her gaze. “Hope has a boyfriend?” She felt a twinge of sadness that she didn’t even know this about her sister. They weren’t close. Hope was four years younger, twenty-four, and found that she was rather fond of money and appearances. Hope wasn’t rude to Faith, nor did she treat her with the same level of disdain as their mother, but she also didn’t call to chat.

  Obviously, since Faith had no idea she was dating someone seriously enough to bring him to dinner.

  “Can’t, Mother. I have plans.” Washing my hair… Balancing my checkbook… Submitting to a Dom at a BDSM club…

  “Well, cancel them. I think this relationship is serious. You need to meet Hope’s boyfriend. It’s embarrassing that you never join us for dinner. He’s going to start thinking you’re the black sheep of the family or something.” She tipped her head back and closed her eyes as she fanned herself harder.

  “Mother, I am the black sheep,” Faith deadpanned.

  Jane jerked her gaze to the front again. “Don’t be ridiculous. You went through a rough patch. You’re back on your feet now. It’s time to come back into the fold. Claim your spot in society.”

  A rough patch? Those were the words Jane chose to describe Faith’s entire marriage. Faith’s face burned with a deep flush. She didn’t have time for this today.

  Luckily, two of her employees came through the door, saving her. “We’re not discussing this right now, Mother,” she murmured as she walked away.

  The encounter stuck with Faith all day, however. Annoying her to death. Making it difficult to concentrate, especially in the heat.

  When her phone buzzed in her purse at five, she pulled it out to see a text from Rowen. A smile spread across her lips. She needed the distraction.

  Rowen: Hey, sweet girl. Just wanted you to know I’m thinking about you. Hope your day is going well.

  She typed a response.

  Faith: My day has been a shitstorm actually, but you have brightened it. Thank you.

  Rowen: So sorry to hear that. Anything I can do to help?

  If only it were that simple. If only Faith had a partner she could confide in and complain to. When Victor was alive, she could vent her frustration at him and he would listen. It had been a long time since she’d had someone like that to confide in. Her arrangement with Rowen was far too superficial for Faith to dump her dirty laundry on his lap. It’s your own fault the relationship isn’t more, she reminded herself.

  Faith: Thank you for asking. That’s very kind. Nothing I can’t handle.

  Rowen: I’m sure you can handle an
ything, sweet girl. You’re a strong woman. Formidable.

  As an afterthought, Faith decided to take a quick selfie and send it to Rowen. He’d asked for one that morning, and she’d yet to comply. Discretely as possible, she snapped a picture of herself with the phone angled downward to ensure he got her skirt and blouse.

  Not waiting for his response, Faith tucked her phone back into her purse and took a deep breath. At least the second half of her day would look brighter after that brief text exchange.

  Rowen was staring blindly at his computer later that night, absently rubbing his chin with two fingers. He had done everything imaginable to occupy his mind, but his thoughts kept wandering back to Faith.

  He was too involved. This was supposed to be a simple arrangement for her. To help her get back in the game. He shouldn’t have let his heart get involved.

  But the truth was, he liked her. And he was stuck. He had no choice but to remain patient and let her call the shots. If she wasn’t willing to open up to him about her personal life, he needed to hold her at arm’s length.

  As the clock ticked, he grew frustratingly impatient. Where was she? She hadn’t texted. What did it mean? Was she home in bed asleep and she hadn’t remembered to text? Or was she intentionally avoiding him because she had changed her mind and wanted to sever their relationship?

  He forced himself to flip his phone around in his hand but not text or call her. The ball was in her court. She had been instructed to text him last thing every night.

  Finally, just before midnight, the text pinged. He jerked the cell up to read her words.

  Sorry, Sir. I know it’s late. I hope I didn’t wake you. I just got home. I’m exhausted. Crawling into bed now.

  He needed to hear her voice. If it made him sound desperate, he didn’t care. He called her.

  “Hey…” Her voice was soft. “I hope I didn’t wake you.” She sounded as exhausted as she claimed. In fact, a long exhale escaped her mouth as he imagined her lowering into bed.

  “No. Of course not. I was waiting for you.”

  “That’s… I don’t even know what to say. It’s been a while since anyone has waited up for me.”