by Tara Sue Me
My heart clenched at the knowledge that she wasn’t talking to Nathaniel, but her master. It wasn’t lost on me that this was the first time she’d said I love you that way.
“Abigail,” I whispered. “My love.”
For a time, we stayed as we were, content to have the phone line connecting us. I knew she’d had a long day, though, and that she was probably tired.
“I should let you sleep,” I finally said.
“I wish I could stay on the line with you all night and listen to you breathe.”
“Soon,” I said. “Soon. I’ll be home.”
“Not soon enough.”
We spoke quietly for a bit longer. When I heard her yawn, we said our good-byes and good nights and disconnected.
I propped myself up against the headboard and took a few deep breaths. I still wished Abby had been able to travel with me, but I understood and admired her for staying in New York to attend the conference. Besides, we’d have the rest of our lives to travel together.
Florida, I reminded myself. I needed to tell her about the Florida trip I had planned.
The phone sex with Abby had been incredible. Phone sex was not new to me, of course. Matter of fact, with my previous sub-missives, it was something I’d engaged in frequently when the urge struck during the week or if I wanted to reward them for something and I thought they’d enjoy it.
Mostly, though, it was just sex, and it amazed me how it was never just sex with Abby. Did it satisfy a need? Yes. Did it help fulfill her? Yes. But it was more than that.
Everything with Abby was always more.
But that didn’t frighten me the way it used to.
I glanced at the clock beside my bed. She’d be curled up in bed, trying to sleep now. I had only two more envelopes waiting for her to open the next day. The first one she’d open at nine thirty. It was her last writing assignment. Then at eleven, Elaina would be picking her up for Sunday brunch.
I thought ahead to the rest of the week. On Monday, I would have dinner delivered to the house for her. Sushi. With a little note reminding her how much it meant that she’d agreed to a sushi date so many months ago instead of beating the shit out of me like I deserved.
On Tuesday, she was going out after the conference with Felicia. Abby needed to have her address changed and Felicia needed to have her last name updated. It felt right, somehow, to have her sharing my address. I remembered the house being so full of life when I was a child, and I was delighted to feel that coming back.
I thought about the flower delivery I had set up on Tuesday. After she made it home, two dozen cream roses with just a hint of blush would be delivered along with a letter I’d written and given to the florist. Just a little note telling her how happy I was she shared my home.
Wednesday, right before I left a seemingly never-ending meeting for lunch, my phone buzzed with an incoming text. Abby and I often texted or talked right before lunch, so I excused myself from the conference room and went into the spare office I’d been using during my stay.
I scrolled to the text.
Getting ready for bed, she’d typed.
Wish I could tuck you in, I replied.
Me too, she texted back. I have a little something for you . . .
What she sent next took my breath away, and I staggered to my chair to sit down. She sent picture after picture of herself, or parts of herself. Parts of her covered, and parts not so covered, with little scraps of lace. A garter here. A tiny slip of a bra there. One nipple playing peekaboo with a brushing of lace. A thong that left very little of her ass to my imagination.
Holy fuck, I typed when the pictures stopped.
You like? she asked.
Let’s just say if I were there, I’d remove every last bit of that lingerie. With my teeth.
Oh yeah? she asked. Then what would you do?
I looked at my watch. I had a few minutes before I needed to leave the office.
I’d bend you over the foot of the bed.
Sounds good, she replied.
Smack that ass for being such a tease.
*squirms*
I grinned and typed fast.
Dip a finger into your pussy.
Mmmm, she texted back.
Someone knocked on the door.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Damn fucking lunch, I typed.
Damn cock-blocking business trip, she replied.
At least you can have some relief, I sent back. I’ll be stuck in a stuffy lunch.
Drown your sorrow in jiu.
I will, I texted back. Sweet dreams.
Sweet dreams *soon*, she wrote. I have a little problem to take care of first.
I groaned, picturing her finding a toy in her bedside table, her legs spread . . .
Tease, I finally sent her.
Learned from the best, she replied.
I felt despondent all day. Only two more days until I could leave China, but I knew those two days would drag. I called Jackson when I made it back to the hotel room that evening. He was an early riser and I knew he’d be up.
“Nathaniel,” he said. “How’s China?”
“Long and boring,” I said. “I didn’t wake you, did I?” With the time difference, it was just after five in the morning.
“Nah. Just getting ready for my morning run.”
We spoke for a few minutes about nothing in particular and made some plans to get together once I returned. It didn’t take long for the conversation to turn to his recent wedding and Felicia. He loved talking about his new wife.
“Question for you,” I said after hearing a long tirade on their plans concerning his retirement. “Was there a lot of gossip surrounding your engagement?” I honestly couldn’t remember; it had been a difficult time for me with Abby leaving and all.
“There was some talk Felicia might have been pregnant,” he said with a laugh. “But that wasn’t true, of course.”
I knew they both wanted children, but I also knew they wanted to wait a few years.
“Why?” he asked. “Are you and Abby—”
“No,” I interrupted. “Nothing like that.” Not yet. “I just know you hadn’t known each other for very long when you proposed. It made me wonder.”
“Number one,” he said. “I don’t give a fuck what people think, and I know you sure as hell don’t.”
I laughed. He was right, for the most part.
“Number two,” he continued. “If I found the woman I knew I wanted to marry and she wanted to marry me, why should what other people think have anything to do with it?”
“I don’t want people to gossip about Abby,” I said without thinking. “I don’t want anyone to think less of her.”
“Aha!” he said. “I knew it.”
I rolled my eyes even though he couldn’t see it over the phone. “I didn’t say I hadn’t thought about marrying Abby.”
“You implied it,” he said, and then continued without waiting for my response. “Listen, man, Abby’s a strong woman.”
“I know that.”
“And she’s secure enough in who she is to not give a fuck if people gossip about her,” he said. “Besides, anyone who would think less of her for agreeing to marry you is either an ass or jealous.”
I laughed. “Thanks, Jackson. Sometimes I just need to talk things out.”
“No problem.”
“You’ll keep this conversation just between us, right?” I asked. “You won’t tell—”
“My wife that her best friend’s boyfriend is thinking about popping the question?” he asked. I knew he was smiling.
“Right.”
“Your secret’s safe with me.”
I thought about my conversation with Jackson for much of the remainder of the evening. Before I went to bed that night, I sent Abby a text with three simple lines.
Want you.
Miss you.
Love you.
I called her Friday night, China time, with bad news.
“There’ve been
some problems,” I told her, while watching my pilot talk on his headset. He was waving his hands in the air. “We’re not going to be able to leave on time.”
“How long will you be delayed?”
“We think a few more hours,” I said. “I should make it to New York around three in the morning. I’ll just get a taxi home.”
“I can come pick you up. It won’t be a problem.”
“I know, but I’d rather you sleep. I’ll be there when you wake up.”
I didn’t stay on the phone long; I was more than a bit pissed I wouldn’t be leaving on time, and I didn’t want her to think I was angry at her.
Nearly twenty hours later, I tiptoed into our bedroom. She slept, arms wrapped around my pillow, with Apollo curled up by her side. He lifted his head at my entrance, and I pointed to the floor.
After he hopped down with a heavy sigh, I slowly undressed, dropping my clothes in a pile on the floor. I pulled the sheet back slightly, and my heart nearly stopped when I saw that she wore one of my white dress shirts.
Making sure not to wake her, I climbed into bed and gently gathered her in my arms. She snuggled against me with a soft sigh of contentment. I closed my eyes.
Home.
Finally.
Chapter Twenty-four
—ABBY—
There was something important I needed to remember. In my dream, I struggled to remember what it was. Something was going to happen. Something I knew I shouldn’t forget.
Something. Something. Something.
As I drifted awake, I became aware of warm arms surrounding me, warm arms and the feeling of someone watching me. I slowly opened one eye.
Nathaniel!
“Hey,” he said, smiling the heart-stopping grin that always and without fail melted me. There was nothing better than waking up in Nathaniel’s arms. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
“Hey,” I said, returning his smile with one of my own. “When did you get home?”
“Around four.” He peeked over my shoulder to the clock on my nightstand. “About three hours ago.”
“You’re not sleeping?”
“No,” he said. “I slept on the plane. I’ve been lying here, holding you. Watching you sleep.” His finger traced my ear. “Did you know you have a little freckle right here, too?”
I felt my face heat. “No.”
He squinted and looked at it. “I’ve never noticed it before.” Then his lips closed in and he gently kissed the spot just behind my earlobe. “I wanted to do that, but I didn’t want to wake you up.”
“Like I’d have complained,” I said, stretching my body against his. Well, well, well. “You’re naked.”
He laughed, but then his eyes grew serious. “Yes, and you’re not.”
“Hope you don’t mind,” I said. “I borrowed your shirt.”
“Oh, no, I don’t mind a bit. Looks better on you anyway. I was just thinking how it’s really not fair, me naked and you not naked.”
“No need to fret. Your housekeeper brought your shirts back from the dry cleaner’s a few days ago.” I ran a hand down his chest. “You could go get one and be not naked yourself.”
“Mmmm,” he hummed. “No, thank you.”
I reached for him, drew him close, and inhaled his smell. “I missed you.”
“Missed you,” he said into my hair.
“Next time, I’m going with you,” I said.
“Next time, I’ll drag you with me,” he said, pulling back to catch my eyes.
I drank in the sight of him. Finally home. In bed. With me. The sun shone brightly from the window behind him. “I don’t want to get out of this bed all day,” I said, then asked, “You don’t have any plans today, do you?”
“Oh, yes,” he said, rubbing his nose back and forth across my cheekbone. “I have lots and lots and lots of plans.”
“Which would be?” I asked, hoping his plans matched up with my plans.
“For starters,” he said, his breath tickling my ear and one hand tickling my stomach. “I’m going to bring us some breakfast and I’m going to use you as my table—”
“Do I get to use you as my table?”
“Absolutely,” he said. “Then I plan to spend hours making love to you in every position known to man, and when we’ve finished”—he slowly unbuttoned the dress shirt I wore and his voice dropped lower—“we’ll make up a few new positions.”
I shivered as his fingers lightly stroked the tops of my breasts. I was far from cold, however. Just the opposite, in fact.
“We’ll probably miss lunch, making up all those new positions,” I said as matter-of-factly as possible with his hands undoing my shirt.
“Then, if it’s okay with you,” he said. “I want nothing more than a huge pizza covered in meat and vegetables. We could have it delivered and eat outside.”
“I don’t know. I was thinking lo mein. There’s a new Chinese place that delivers.”
He pulled back. “Really? You want Chinese?”
I laughed at his perplexed expression. “No. I was just teasing.”
“Don’t tease me, woman,” he said, going back to work on the shirt and finally unbuttoning the last button. “I’m a desperate man.”
I slipped beneath him and ran my hands over his bare ass. “You’re not the only one.”
Funny, I thought the next day as I knelt in my waiting position. Somehow this wasn’t what I had in mind when I answered his question yesterday.
He’d asked the question sometime on Saturday, after pizza.
We were outside on the patio. I sat in his lap and our feet dangled in the hot tub. It was too hot, really, to be inside the water.
“We should install a pool,” he said, head back as he enjoyed the sun. “But do you think it should be inside or outside?”
Outside had several advantages, but we lived in New York, so perhaps inside made more sense. I told him as much.
“The basement is relatively unfinished,” he said. “Too bad we can’t put it there.”
“We could put it outside and enclose it.”
“That might work.” He thought on that for a few seconds. “We’ll call a contractor next week. Have them look over the yard.”
I liked how he used the word “we” so often, how it just fell naturally from his lips. I tilted my head up to kiss said lips.
“Why do you have an unfinished basement?” I asked.
He gave me another kiss. Longer. “When I first started the renovations, I couldn’t decide if wanted the playroom down there or not.”
“Huh,” I said. “A downstairs playroom.”
“More like a dungeon.”
“That sounds . . .” I thought as I spoke. “Scary.”
His hands worked their way to my hair. “Dungeon. Playroom. Same thing, really.”
“I like the way ‘playroom’ sounds,” I said. “Dungeons should have chains and ropes and . . .”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Okay,” I said with a laugh. “Same thing, really.”
He smiled. “Speaking of playrooms, do you want to wear your collar at all this weekend? I thought maybe a few hours tomorrow?”
I ran a finger over his lips, and he captured them in a kiss. I’d missed him so much, I realized. All of him: the sweet, considerate lover of my weekdays and the stern, unyielding master of my weekends. I loved them both, needed them both.
“I’d like to wear it a few hours tomorrow,” I said.
Little did I know I’d be wearing my collar as he flipped through my journal, checking to make sure I’d completed all his assignments. My head was down, of course, so I couldn’t see what he was reading. I felt certain the “Interesting. Very interesting” comment came when he read the toy I picked and the scenario I detailed.
He sat in a plush chair and I was at his feet. My knees rested on the matted floor of the playroom, not on a pillow.
“Look at me, Abigail,” he finally said.
I looked up and met his eyes. Would he be please
d with what I wrote? I couldn’t tell by looking at him.
“You have a talent for writing,” he said.
Really? I thought most of it was just random stream-of-consciousness musings.
“It seems it is an easier way for you to communicate,” he continued. “And the scene you detailed is very creative.”
“Thank you, Master,” I said. “You inspire me.”
I hoped he knew I wasn’t giving gratuitous flattery, but speaking the truth. Being his submissive had released and set free a side of me I’d never known existed. The Abby of the year before would never have dreamed of thinking such things as I’d detailed in the journal, much less written them down and let someone read them.
Hell, before him, I’d had such an unfulfilled sex life, I’d almost given up on sex altogether. But now . . .
Well, I was kneeling, naked, at his feet.
And we’d had the most amazing sex all day the day before.
“I’m very pleased with what you have discovered, my lovely,” he said. “And I want to discuss much of it with you, but for now—” He stood and walked to his cabinets. His bare feet padded as he went. “Your scene has inspired me, and I think you deserve a reward for that.”
He turned to face me, and I noticed he had the ball gag and a bell in his hands.
“Go to the table,” he said. “Just sit on it for now.”
I rose to my feet—he hadn’t told me to crawl—and walked to the table. Would he use all of my ideas or just some? I’d picked the gag over another toy, because I thought he’d use something else in addition. Though I’d also written about a new-to-me flogger, I knew he’d use it only if he wanted.
His footsteps sounded again as he walked toward me, but I kept my focus on his face. From the corner of my eye, I noted his shirtless chest and the items he still had in his hands.
“Open,” he said. Then he placed the gag in my mouth. He buckled it around my head, and I felt my heart pounding. The hard thump, thump, thump shook my body.
“Relax,” he said, stroking my hair. “You’re fine. Breathe through your nose.”
He let me sit for a few seconds, to acclimate myself to the feel of something in my mouth and getting used to breathing.
“Look at me,” he finally said, and then continued when I met his eyes. “You can’t speak your safe word now, so you need this.” He placed the bell in my hand. “If you need to yellow or red, drop this. Nod if you understand.”
