The Dom of My Dreams: A BDSM Novel (55 page)

BOOK: The Dom of My Dreams: A BDSM Novel
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“So, where does that leave us?”

           
I hesitated, watching his face as he hardened his features into stone, as if bracing himself for something very unpleasant.
 

           
My voice was flat, calm, totally belying the naked sorrow that pierced within me as I spoke the words that needed to be spoken.
 
“It’s over, Seton.
 
It’s been over.
 
Please accept it.”

           
Seton didn’t react, just looked away for a few moments, his mind seeming to be elsewhere.
 
He was silent for a long time.
 
When he finally spoke, his voice was controlled, almost emotionless.
 
Yet his green eyes blazed with uncontainable emotion when his gaze met mine.

           
“Then I guess it’s over.
 
I am willing to meet you halfway, Marjorie, but only if you want to.”
 
He smiled a tight little smile as he raised a hand, brushing my cheeks with his fingers.
 
Longing burned within me, and my determination wavered for a few seconds.
 
“You’re the one with all the power now.
 
No—actually, that’s not true.
 
You’ve always had it.
 
You know where to find me in case you change your mind.”

           
 
I took two backward steps toward the door and raised an eyebrow.
 

I
always had the power?
 
Even when you went to me and punished me whenever I tried to leave you?”

           
“Yes,” he said, eyes boring intensely into mine.
 
“Especially
during those times.”

           
I frowned and opened my mouth to ask what he’d meant when he reached for the door and ushered me in, closing it gently between us.
 
Sunlight streamed through the glass door as our gazes met.
 
The look of love that shimmered in his beautiful eyes mirrored mine.
 
Then he turned his back and moved away.
 
My heart broke into a thousand pieces as I watched Seton’s dark figure disappear down the street.

           
It hurt to see him go, but it was necessary.
 
I wasn’t ready to be with him, or with anyone.
 
I didn’t want to evoke the feelings—confusion, heartbreak, fears of rejection—that followed whenever we were together.
 
His life would be miserable, putting up with an unstable and insecure woman like me, and he deserved better than that.
 
He would find the perfect submissive girl for him—someone fierce and obedient at the same time—I had no doubts about that.
 
As for me, well, I had to get my shit together before I ventured into a meaningful relationship with someone new.
 
As they say, in order to love someone, you have to first love yourself.
 

Fighting back another wave of longing, I turned and sauntered over to the elevator.
 
It was time to take measures into my own hands.

 

 

 

Chapter Sixteen

 

 

“Do you wear granny panties?”

           
I looked up from the box I was filling up with stuff and frowned at Magda.
 
“Granny panties?”

           
“Yeah, granny panties.
 
You know, those stretchy, stomach-holding monstrosities that cover your whole ass and almost reach down your thighs.
 
Do you wear them?”

           
Uh, no, wouldn’t get caught in them.
 
Granny bras I could handle, but granny panties?
 
Ick!
 
No way.
 
But I had a feeling that wasn’t the answer Magda was hoping to get, so I lied.
 
“From time to time.”

           
“And why do you wear them?”

           
I shrugged.
 
“Because they’re comfortable?”

           
“Exactly!” she enthused and skirted her way around piles upon piles of boxes scattered around my small office.
 
I had no idea I’d gathered so much crap over the years.
 
I suppressed a shiver when I thought of all the junk stored in my apartment.
 
Now
that
was going to be a challenge.
 

“Tom and I are having dinner the other night,” Magda went on, “and suddenly he looks up at me and says, ‘How come you don’t wear thongs anymore?’
 
And I say to him, ‘You try wearing something with a tiny string up your ass all day, and then we’ll talk.’ ”
 
She grunted, tugging irritably on her beige blouse as she stuffed books into one of the boxes.
 
“Men.
 
They only think with their dicks, don’t they?
 
Now he wants to watch porn with me!
 
He came home the other night with a triple-X DVD and—”

           
“Do you know what ‘TMI’ means?”

           
“Too Much Information.
 
Anyway, so he made me watch this porn DVD about a nurse who tries to treat a man’s incurable erection—stupid plot—by fucking his brains out, and I couldn’t help laughing at how ridiculous it all was.
 
I was, like, ‘Dude, real nurses don’t wear micro white dresses with their tits hanging out, and they definitely don’t wear five-inch heels.’
 
To which he responded, ‘Shut up, woman, you’re ruining the mood.’
 
He wanted me to jerk him off while we watched that train wreck, but I couldn’t get into it.
 
Those women can’t even act.
 
I’m better at faking orgasms than those so-called ‘pros.’
 
So then he—”

           
“Okay,” I cut her off, covering my ears.
 
“Enough!
 
I am actually picturing you and Tom watching porn in your living room couch and it’s got to stop!
 
Way
 
too much information, there, Missy.”

           
Magda laughed.
 
“I’m sorry.
 
I got a little carried away there, didn’t I?
 
Jeremy is better at listening to this sort of thing than other people.”

My eyebrows shot up at that.
 
“Do
not
confide in Jeremy!
 
He’s a tattletale of the worst caliber.
 
Trust me, I know what I’m talking about.”

She waved away my warning.
 
“I’m not worried.
 
Sorry for the TMI.
 
I guess I’m a little pissed off, is all.”

           
I smiled.
 
“Let me guess, your mom’s coming over for the weekend.”

           
Magda groaned.
 
“Worse.
 
She’s planning to move in with us permanently.
 
We should have never bought a house with a spare bedroom.
 
It was only a matter of time before she made the announcement.”

           
“Just tell her that you don’t want her to move in.”

           
She shot me a you-gotta-be-kidding-me look.
 
“Hey, it’s my mother we’re talking about here!
 
To her, ‘please don’t move in with us’ means, ‘so when should we expect you?’
 
It’s a waste of time.”

           
I couldn’t help laughing at her misfortune.
 
Good ol’ Magda.
 
I was going to miss her and her wacky tales about her mother.
 
“You really should write a book about this stuff, Magda.
 
It’s hilarious.
 
Trust me, it’ll be an instant bestseller.”

           
She looked up at me from the large box in front of her and flashed me one of her bright, dimpled smiles, but it didn’t seem to reach her pretty gray eyes.
 
“Yeah, I should probably do that, but I wanted you to edit it and… well, now you won’t!”
 
She burst into tearless sobs for the third time today.
 

           
My smile faded.
 
Sadness surged as I thought of the people and the wonderful things I would be leaving behind.
 
Bookends AtoZ was like a second home to me, and turning in my two weeks’ notice was one of the most difficult things I had ever had to do in my life.
 
Some lucky dog would be occupying this desk soon, and would be welcomed to the Bookends family with open arms.
 
Holding back tears, I crossed over to the window and looked out at the rainy town square.
 

Autumn had arrived.
 
The leaves had changed color, the weather was crisp and the nights were longer.
 
Fast winds stirred the multi-colored leaves and a thin drizzle spotted the windows, casting a gloom over the day that mirrored my current mood.

Ever since Seton signed with Bookends AtoZ, he had practically turned this place into his second home.
 
He was always here, doing something or other, taking up space, forcing me to see him almost daily.
 
We exchanged curt nods whenever we ran into each other in the hallway.
 
Even though he had pretty much left me alone since we had that talk in front of the building weeks ago, it was nevertheless disconcerting to have to face him so often.
 
So I had decided to quit Bookends and skip town.
 
Was I running away from my feelings for Seton again?
 
Maybe, but I had to do it.
 
Northampton wasn’t big enough for both of us, and I had to deal with my personal demons as far away from him as possible.
 
I was at a point in my life where either I could carry on behaving the way I had been for the last couple of months—thus leaving myself unchanged and open to more self-destruction—or I could step back and focus on becoming a better person.
 
The second option was the sensible one.
 
There were things I had to work out, and I was determined to do it.
 
Alone.

In an effort to prepare for the future, I had tested the waters, just to see if I could make it without Seton.
 
I’d tried dating a cute financial journalist from Springfield named Josh, and he was as adorable and charming as they come.
 
We’d had a lovely meal at an Italian restaurant near Puffer’s Pond over in quiet, picturesque Amherst.
 
I’d had a nice enough time, dating wasn’t quite as tedious as I thought it would be, but when he kissed me at the door, all I saw was Seton’s face, and I felt awful, like I’d been cheating on him or something. When Josh gave me an eager, expectant look, wanting me to invite him in, I’d made my excuses, claiming I was tired, and almost slammed the door in the poor guy’s face.
 
I felt awful and mean, so I called to apologize the next day.
 
He asked me out again, but I declined.

And that sums up my dating experiment.
 
I wasn’t ready to see other people, couldn’t bear the idea of anyone touching me, and I had to get past that in order to do something I had never done before—go out on regular dates until I meet a nice guy.
 
Hey, it would have to happen some time!

For now, I would focus on putting some real distance between Seton and me.
 
I decided to move to Boston.
 
Magda had helped me find an apartment and a job there.
 
She’d lived in Boston before moving here, and she was more than happy to give me a hand.
 
Well, ‘give me a hand’ implies that she only helped a little when in fact she did most of the research.
 
She thought I should focus on other things while she did the grunt work, which was fine with me.
 
I’ve never been a fan of real estate.
 

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