Domesticated (14 page)

“Well, we can’t be the ones to say that. You know Larry gives me a lot of work.”

“Yeah, sure, Garrison. Can we at least sit down?”

“As soon as this song is over.”

Finally, at eleven o’clock, the Tillman’s said goodbye. I was even more peeved than I was before. Adding too many glasses of wine that I didn’t pick, or even like to the mix only made things worse.

I was never so glad in my life to be in my bed. I breathed a deep sigh, wishing Garrison wasn’t coming to bed with me. I hated the nightgown that twisted around me when I slept. I hated the panties that were too constricting for my pussy to breathe the way it wanted.

I closed my eyes, thinking nothing about getting off for the first time in I didn’t know how long. I ignored Garrison crawling in beside me, and hoped he stayed all the way on the other side. It was a king-size bed, he had plenty of room to read his stupid law books way over there.

My eyes opened when I felt his body move to the top of mine, resting between my legs.

“What are you doing?” I asked, raising up.

“What are you doing?” he countered with a puzzled look. “Why do you still have your underwear on? It’s Friday.”

They’re panties, idiot. Yup. I could see a murder charge in my near future. I would have no one to represent me because he would be dead. I would live out my days behind bars, probably being manhandled by biker chicks. Hmmm. That alternative sounded better than this one.

Garrison shifted his weight to my side and nodded. “Take them off. I have a willy.”

Yes. Yes, you do Garrison. You have a schoolboy willy. You have no clue what a hard-on even is. I wanted to say so much. I wanted to be the bitch that I was feeling, but for whatever reason, I didn’t. I raised my hips and slid out of my panties. Garrison smiled and moved back between my legs.

Was this how it would be from here to the end of my time? I could feel him moving in and out, but that was about it. My hands rested on his boney shoulders while Garrison pumped in and out of me and I thought about the way it felt the night before with Sam. No comparison. No chemistry. No emotion. Nothing. I lay there with my legs spread, letting Garrison have his way with me until he grunted three times. Uh. Uh. Uh. That pissed me off, too. What the hell was wrong with me?

I didn’t run to the bathroom and rub it to make it come like I normally did. I wiped his come away from me with toilet paper and then I showered, quickly rinsing the rest of Garrison away from me. Aye, yai, yai. I needed help.

I don’t know if I slept a wink. I couldn’t even blame it on Garrison’s annoying snoring. It was that stupid Sam. He wouldn’t get out of my mind. At the time of him doing it, I was in heaven. I loved everything about it, but now that I was alone, I wondered how he could treat me that way. It was fucked up. I know. I asked for it. I begged for it. Hell, I fucking paid him for it, and now I felt used. Why? Why did I feel used?

I drank more wine alone, sitting out on the deck and watching the glorious ocean, talking to the almost empty bottle and myself. I didn’t even remember going in. Garrison woke me from the couch.

“Still not feeling well?”

“No. I don’t want to go out today. I just want to stay in.” It wasn’t a lie this time. I was sick.

“It’s fine. I’m just going to work anyway. You rest. I’ll order us some food.”

“Okay,” I moaned, and not from feeling sick, either. I didn’t want to spend the day with Garrison.

It actually went pretty quick and I was looking forward to him leaving the next day. I finished
Benevolent
by Leddy Harper and started on another one. Again, I was sucked in by another awesome book; then again, you could never go wrong with an Aleatha Romig novel.
Insidious
was a mind-boggling cluster fuck. Amazing.

Garrison wouldn’t try to have sex with me again and that made me happy. I left him to his work strung about his office after we ate from a seafood restaurant that delivered. It sucked, but Garrison didn’t want to go out. I watched André beat a blonde’s ass with a belt. It was easy to pretend I was the one under his control, she looked a lot like me, or so I fabricated anyway. I sat on the edge of the tub after turning off the movie that had me so hot and wet, and spread my legs, then my lips.

I was just getting into it, starting to moan when I looked up and saw Garrison’s shocked expression.

“Garrison!” I yelled, startled and closing my legs.

“What is this?”

“What?”

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing. You should knock,” I said, sliding my naked body embarrassingly into the sudsy water. Oh brother.

“I don’t like this, Kendra. Why were you doing that?”

“Doing what? It’s nothing. Just go, will you?”

“We just had sex last night.”

“Garrison. Stop. It’s nothing. Don’t you ever just want to beat off?”

“No. Never. It’s dirty. It’s not right. I think you should talk to someone.”

“And say what, Garrison? Hey, can you help me? I sometimes masturbate. Is there a cure for that? I’m fine. Leave me alone.”

“You were watching.”

“Garrison. Get out. Women masturbate sometimes. It’s normal. You’re a smart man. Go look it up. Go do some research besides what your mommy and daddy brainwashed into your narrow-minded head.”

“Where is this coming from, Kendra? I think you should go home with me. I don’t want to leave you here alone.”

“I’m not going home yet. Can you please just leave?”

Garrison left with a white face and eyes too big for his face. Great. Just what I needed. Of course, the thought of Garrison standing there while I spread myself, playing with my pussy, turned me on. I resumed my position before I was so rudely interrupted and finished my job, watching in the mirror until I came.

Garrison and I never discussed what he walked into. Garrison and I never discussed anything. I was reading when he came to bed, opened his law book, and turned away from me. I glanced over at him, feeling ashamed of myself. I tried to blame it on Sam, but it was deeper than that and I knew it. Chances were, I would have been doing that had I never met Sam in the first place.

I rolled to my stomach and brought myself to another bliss before falling asleep. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for me, and I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t stop thinking about it until I did it. It didn’t matter that my husband walked in on my show. It didn’t matter if he didn’t approve. I couldn’t stop it. Not until I was relieved. I had become an expert orgasm-er over the years. I could come with zero movement or noise. It was a part of me, a part of who I was, and no matter how much I tried, I couldn’t un-ring the bell.

I ate breakfast with Garrison the following morning. We never discussed what happened the night before, and he informed me that he would be heading out in the afternoon. I was glad. I was always glad when he left. This summer thing was my time away from him. I was fine with him being gone, working. I deserved the three-month vacation.

Garrison couldn’t even stay off the phone long enough to talk to me before he left. I’m sure it was a ploy to avoid an unwanted conversation. It would never be discussed again. For the life of me, I didn’t know how the man was so good at arguing a case. He sure as hell couldn’t argue with me. He couldn’t do anything with me.

He did give me an awkward kiss and an even more uncomfortable hug, one that included half a hug with two pats on the back. I wish I could have burped. That’s what it felt like he was doing. Nine years together, almost five years of marriage, and my husband hugged me like he was burping a baby. UGH. This was all Sam’s fault. Nothing was different. Garrison was the same as Garrison had always been. I was the one making something out of nothing.

“You coming back soon?” I asked as he walked away to the awaiting car with a driver. He could have asked me to drive him.

“I’ll call you. Kendra, if you need anything, you’ll let me know, right?” I knew what that meant. It was his subtle way of pointing out that it wasn’t normal for me to play with myself while I watched in the mirror. If he only knew the half of it.

“Yeah, yeah. Sure. I’ll talk to you later.”

And that was it. He was gone. Thank goodness.

I managed to entertain myself for the entire day. I took my little car for a drive along the coast on Highway 1. What a beautiful drive. I blasted the Sirius radio, putting myself in a good place. I was fine. It was exactly what I needed. Forget about Sam whatever his last name was. It was a dumb idea to begin with. Oh, but was it ever hot. Call me crazy, but my last encounter with Sam was a-fucking-mazing. Even if he didn’t take care of me, the way he made me feel craven, and empowered me was hot. Just thinking about it made me wet.

I tried to forget Sam ordering me to swallow him by drowning out the thought with Jennifer Lopez and “I Luh Ya Papi.” It worked until Ryan Seacrest replaced her with an interview of Kim and Kanye. I changed the station with the button on the back of my steering wheel. The scan button stopped for a few seconds on three stations before I quickly moved it back to a song I recognized, but why? I didn’t listen to this kind of music. I didn’t even know how to classify it.

Shifting my eyes to the screen, I read Classic Rock. What?! Think, Kendra. Think. Why the hell did I know this song? My jaw dropped when I remembered. The chorus came on and the recollection was unmistakably raw. Sam whistled this tune while he and I cooked on the yacht. Jesus. Why did my mind keep going back to Sam? Why? Why? Why? And why did my pussy respond to everything Sam? Maybe I shouldn’t blame that on Sam. It responded to everything. Sam intensified it.

Glancing in my rearview mirror, I slid my sundress up my legs and over my hips. My fingers were instantly moistened, searching out the throbbing corporate between my legs. I skipped the panties that morning. No. That’s a lie. I waited until Garrison left and took them off. I liked not wearing panties. I didn’t prolong the agony the way I normally would have. In part, it was the skillfully careful attention I paid to my clitoris that brought me immediate, beautiful pleasure, right there on Highway 1. Smelling my fingers, I smiled happily and looked out over the coast. What a beautiful day it was.

Satisfied with my results, I listened to the last chorus, singing about taking the words right out of my mouth. I changed the station again when Madonna started singing like a virgin. I had the whole summer here, three months, and I had the guy. The guy that was amazing in bed. Why the hell did he have to go and ruin a good thing? If he would have just stuck to the plan, but no. Sam had to make it about something that it wasn’t.

The more I thought about it, the angrier it made me. It was incongruous enough without Sam making it worse. That was a giant leap for me, confronting a man with payment for something like that. I was paying him a lot of money for something that benefited him, too. I didn’t even think about it. I hit the button, silenced Adam Levine, and told the robotic voice to call Sam.

“I’m surprised to see your call. Oh, wait. No, not really. You got what you wanted. I forgot. You like being dominated, treated like some crack ho from the streets.”

“Nothing you can say bothers me, and frankly, what you think about me doesn’t matter. We had a deal. I would like for you to come to my house tonight at seven for one hour. We don’t need to have a meal together or anything. You just need to come and do your job.”

“Okay, I’ll be there. Better make it two hours, though. I would hate to take half your time with all my questions and all,” Sam retaliated. Fuck!

“I changed my mind about all that. It’s not necessary and has nothing to do with anything. Be there at seven. One hour.”

“Nope. It is necessary, and I’m not going to come over there and spank your bare ass without figuring out what the hell made you this way. If I am going to do the fucked-up stuff you want, you’re going to tell me who you are. Take it or leave it.”

“What the hell does that even mean? Why can’t you just do it?”

“Because I’m not that person, Kendra. Unlike you, I come from morals. I have a little bit of anxiety with being mean to girls.”

“It’s not being mean. It’s sex. I want it.”

“Why?”

“Jesus, Sam. Why does it matter? Your dick was so fucking hard you were ready to explode after leaving your handprints across my ass. Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it, too.”

“I enjoyed it because it turns you on, because it makes your pussy wetter than I’ve ever witnessed, because the look in your eyes literally goes from a timid little mouse to a hungry lion in two point seven seconds. That look is what turns me on about the whole thing.”

“Then you want it, too,” I stated the fact he just admitted.

“I never said I didn’t. I said if I am going to do it, I am going to know who you are and where you came from.”

“You’re impossible. Whatever. I’m only agreeing because I don’t have a line of prospects knocking down my door.”

“Awesome, I’ll bring pizza. See you at seven.”

I could hear the euphoric smile in his tone. “I don’t want pizza. I just said no meal. Sam? Sam?” I looked at the screen, blinking, “Sam, call ended.”

“I hate him. I hate this guy,” I audibly told the empty car.

Why I was so nervous was beyond me. I was calling the shots. I was the one with the money, and I was making the rules. I shook both my hands, flapping my fingers while I took three deep breaths. He was late. Why was he late? Did he change his mind? What if he changed his mind? Fifteen minutes was a lot late. He changed his mind. Should I call him? Shaking my hands again, I paced the floor and concentrated on the sound of my heels on the tile.

I actually screamed a little when the doorbell rang. I blamed it more on Sam than my nervous state. He couldn’t ring the bell like a normal person. He rang it a hundred times, then beat on the door with his fist. Idiot.

“You’re late,” I yelled, jerking open the door. What the—

Sam was wearing all white. The white button-up shirt was open halfway down his chest. I instantly wanted to touch the patch of hair on his chest. The shirt was un-tucked, hanging loosely over white pants. My eyes skimmed his delectable body, all the way to his shiny white shoes. I’m sure my mouth was agape. Looking back to his face, I was impressed. The black Batman mask was working for me. Nice…

“I thought maybe being in disguise would help me be someone else,” he explained, holding a pizza and a twelve pack of beer. I turned around and walked away, almost forgetting I was mad at him.

“You would think a school teacher would know the importance of punctuality.”

“I love this,” Sam said, setting the pizza on the table and running his hand up the back of my leg. I was wearing black pantyhose, hoping to entice him a little more, help him get into his character, but it looked like he was one-step ahead of me. Taking the eye mask off, he said, “I think you should leave them on while I—you know.”

“No. I don’t know. Tell me,” I taunted, running my fingers through opening of his shirt. My fake eyelashes batted while my fingers lingered on his bare skin, before walking a step away from him. I picked up my glass of Challis-North and sipped it.

Sam took a step, closing the distance between us and kissed the corner of my mouth. “Baby steps, love, baby steps,” he whispered hot words to my mouth.

I parted my lips and closed my eyes, sensing the magnificent kiss coming.

“You want a beer?” he asked, taking my crystal glass of wine and walking away. Seriously?

“No. I want my wine. I don’t drink beer. I already told you that.”

“It’s in our contract,” Sam said, twisting the top off a bottle. I disdainfully looked at the bottle being offered to me before taking it.

“What contract? You can’t even say it,” I accused, taking the bottle of disgusting beer. Why on earth would people drink this stuff? Malted cereal grain over fruit? Sipping the repulsive alcohol, I wondered why I didn’t find a man in my own class.

“Huh? Good stuff, isn’t it?”

Snorting, I assured him that I hated it. Truthfully, it wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be. I sort of liked it, but I wasn’t telling Sam that. “Pineapple pizza? Please tell me I am being Punk’d or something. You’re the worst date ever.”

“Try it, Miss Snooty Pants. And I’m not here to date you, I’m here to fuck you, to treat you like my little mouse, and spank this little ass, remember?” Sam rasped, pulling me close to him.

The air fell from my lungs. Damn. He smelled amazing. It had to be the getup. The white must have been giving him the nerve he needed to be this brash. I loved it and hoped it continued until later.

“You look very pretty,” Sam said, pulling my chair out for me. I swallowed the lump again when smooth-Sam pulled the clip, keeping my hair in place on top of my head. “Let’s leave this down,” he whispered to my neck. I felt every word as they formed chills up both my arms.

Somehow, the roles reversed. I was the tongue-tied with fumble-fingers one. Sam was smooth, calm, cool, and collected, and I was acting like a clueless bimbo.

“Eat your pizza,” Sam ordered while I sat there speechless.

“I don’t like pineapple on pizza.”

“You don’t like beer, either, but you’re going to drink that, too,” Sam decided for me, plopping the nasty pizza with burnt pineapple on my china plate. “No. We don’t need forks, Mouse. Pick it up.”