Forbidden: A Standalone (33 page)

I sniffed a little laugh. “Yeah. He told me to get a cab. That was… wow.”

“I bet it wasn’t easy for him,” she said.

I knocked back the whiskey and cringed. Breathed out hard. Corked the bottle. “I want to be worthy of Elliot because he has faith in me. And I want to be worthy of Deacon because of all the work he put into...” I stopped because I hadn’t had the words until a few minutes ago. Everything clicked into place that night. “All the times he tried to get me to choose to be human.”

“It gets easier.”

“Yeah.” I put the whiskey back in the cabinet. That little shot had done nothing for me. I had the tolerance of a hard-core drinker.

“I didn’t come to save you,” she said.

“No?”

“No.” She drank the whiskey gently and quickly. Not a drop was left on her lipstick. “Deacon sent me to show you something specific, but I came to show you how to choose.”

She stood and moved to the center of the room. I was on the other side of the counter without a clue as to what she wanted. She looked down and unbuttoned the loops of her tunic. She let the tunic fall down her arms, holding it by her fingertips for a split second before letting it drop to the floor.

Her hands stayed at her sides. Eyes downcast. I understood right away what she needed. We’d known Debbie the Domme, and she was utterly and completely a Dominant, but she’d only ever topped men.

I felt it. Everything Deacon had told me about. The arousing power. The anticipation of a slice of the world that was in my control. The throb of a need to bring a person to the edge for my pleasure.

“Debbie, I can’t.”

“I think you can.”

Could I? I’d never considered it.

I’d had sex with women before, but the only time I’d Dominated one—not just topped, but Dominated—was at the Dome. Before Deacon, back when I did shit because no one was there to stop me, and even then, I wasn’t in control.

I touched Debbie’s nipple. Light brown on Asian-cast skin, it hardened immediately, and I rolled it under my thumb. I felt her breathe, watched her chest heave a little.

I untied her loose silk pants. They dropped below her navel. Under those silken dresses, she had a beautiful body, feminine and strong, with a long waist and narrow hips. With a flick of my fingers, her pants fell.

I thought to ask her if she was sure, but that would defeat the purpose of her request. I took her jaw in my hand and pulled her face up to look at me. She was so beautiful, and suddenly, the thought of having her was more than a lark. It was all I could think about. I kissed her, and it was lovely. The way she reacted to how I moved, submitted her lips to mine, let my tongue invade her mouth. She tasted like oranges. I’d kissed women before, but not like this. Not with purpose.

I took my mouth from hers and put her hands in mine. “Deacon told me he thought I wasn’t submissive.”

She surprised me by dropping her gaze, and I knew right then that I’d had no idea who she was. “He told you because I told him.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Yes, you do, and you don’t need him.”

I took a step back. Her words were so hard, so definite, and so correct.

Could I do this? Could I spend an hour dominating this woman? I didn’t want to hurt her. She was precious to me.

Maybe that would be what made it work. At least for the next hour. As long as I didn’t have to think past that, I could play this game.

“Take off my clothes,” I said.

Looking downward, she unbuttoned my blouse. Her fingers on the placket were graceful and fine, and I didn’t know if I’d ever been more aroused.

“We haven’t set any boundaries,” I said.

“I know.”

I had to sound sure of myself. “Do you want a safe word?”

“My safe word is Pyongyang.”

“All right.” I hoped I’d remember it. At least for the next hour.

She slipped off my shirt, and I let her service me. Not helping, not hindering as she got on her knees and gently pulled down my skirt, then my panties. I stroked her hair when she ran her hands over my legs. I needed her comfort just then, but I was hesitating. That wasn’t going to work.

“Stand up.”

She did. We stood across from each other, naked but for shoes.

I reached for her breasts and ran the backs of my hands over them. So hard. Maybe as hard as my own. I pinched one nipple, twisting it. Her lips parted, but she stayed silent.

I walked around her, running my hands over her body. She was lovely. I just wanted to enjoy her without responsibility, but that wasn’t why she was here. She’d come here to submit to me. I had a job.

“Back on your knees, beautiful,” I said when I was in front of her again.

She dropped. I put my fingers in her hair, and she kissed my belly.
Fuck.
I could practically feel her lips on my clit even though she was nowhere near it.

Then I realized how close she was to seeing where I had been hurt. I didn’t want her to see that. She’d know. Anyone who’d spent years as a Dominant would know. I scanned the room quickly. Her clothes were in a pile, including a red scarf. I stretched, grabbed it by the corner, and unwound it from the jacket

“Look at me.” I had to suppress the need to say please. I didn’t know where I’d gotten the compulsion to be courteous.

She looked up at me with her almond eyes, and I covered them with the scarf, knotting it behind her head.

I stepped back, halfway across the room, and sat on the floor. I bent my knees and spread my legs. “Crawl to me.”

She did, putting her head down, letting her breasts swing. God, the things I wanted to do to those tits.

“Eat my pussy. Just your mouth. Lick it up.”

She didn’t hesitate but turned her head and kissed my swollen clit, then she drew her tongue along it.

“Suck on it.”

She flicked her tongue over it then took it between her lips and sucked. I threw my head back. She licked again then sucked. My ass came off the floor. I was full, and ready, but more. I wanted more. More control.

I pushed her face away. “On your back.”

She rolled over, and I crouched over her, knees on either side of her head. Her lips parted and I felt exactly right.

“Take my face,” she said. “It’s yours.”

She opened her mouth, and I lowered myself onto it. “Take it. Eat it.”

I rubbed myself on her face as she tried to grapple for control enough to make me come, sucking and licking whatever I let near her, pulling away then making her drown in me, until I shifted back and put my clit in her mouth.

“Suck it hard.”

I landed on my hands as she pulled on my clit with her mouth, yanking a powerful orgasm out of me. I stiffened, clenched, rubbed myself on her face, and let go.

I crouched over her, panting.

God, how did Deacon do this?

He got the fuck up and made sure I got what I needed
.

I stood, wobbly-legged, and moved the scarf off her eyes. “Bedroom’s that way. Crawl in and get up on the bed. You’re getting rewarded for that. Because it was awesome.”

She smiled, face slick and shiny from my cunt. She twisted onto her hands and knees and crawled to the bedroom, head down, toes dragging in the high heels, ass swaying. I walked behind her, feeling a peace I barely understood. She knew how to do this. She was going to do exactly what I asked. Everything was under my control.

When she got up on the bed, she crouched on hands and knees, and I pulled her up to kneeling and kissed her.

“Are you all right with this so far?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“I don’t have any equipment or anything.” I was expressing insecurity, and in the middle of the sentence, I realized what a complete buzzkill that would be for her. “So lean back and touch the headboard,” I recovered. “Don’t let it go.”

I pushed her legs up and apart, letting my fingers drift down her belly into her wetness.

“I always loved your cunt,” I said, putting two fingers into her. “It tasted like oranges.” I put my fingers in my mouth and sucked on them. “Still does.”

I reinserted them, then pulled them out with a swipe and a circle on her clit. Her eyes dropped, and her mouth opened.

“Here. Taste.” I put my wet fingers in her mouth.

She sucked on them. I dug them into her throat. Three fingers. I wanted to enter her through my hand. To own her inside and out.

I knew what he felt, all those times, and I knew why it was nourishing for this little bit of the world to be mine.

I shifted over her and put my leg against her cunt until I felt its wetness. She curled herself around my leg, and we moved together. She sucked on my fingers and I pushed against her in ever-increasing rhythms. She looked at me, face scrunched, waiting.

I moved harder and faster against her. How much longer could I make her wait? She wouldn’t come without me saying it was all right.

I wanted her to have the best orgasm of her life, so I made her wait as long as I could.

“Come,” I said.

And she did, fingertips on the headboard, body arching forward then back. I’d never heard Debbie cry out in pleasure, and I’d seen her come plenty of times. But she cried out for me.

I felt like the queen of the universe, and for a moment, no more, I felt worthy.

I kissed her mouth when it was done and held her tightly.

“Deacon sent you to show me what it was like to dominate someone,” I said.

“Yes.”

“Should it feel like playacting?”

She sighed. “No.”

“You knew I wasn’t a Domme when you came here.”

“Yes. But you know Deacon. You can’t reason with him.”

“So basically I’m just a horny perv?”

She laughed. “Yes. And you can do anything and go anywhere you want. That comes from me, not the Master.”

I rolled onto my back and looked at the ceiling. “Isn’t it funny… technically I could always do whatever I wanted, but I think now I really can. And it’s scary.”

“Freedom can be frightening,” she whispered, half asleep. “You’re only free to choose how you’re going to not be free.”

Had I been scared that whole time? Had I held myself back from doing things because I was afraid? I tried to put myself in the shoes of my younger self. Back in Carlton Prep, when they’d tried to place me in college and they suggested business, I thought they were saying something for the sake of saying it, and I’d felt the walls closing in. Once I chose something, I’d be trapped in it.

Was I trapped with Deacon? Was his freedom a lie?

I could live without him. In the vulnerable place between wakefulness and sleep, between the submissive I thought I was and the Domme I’d just tried to be, I saw the truth. I didn’t need him. But did I want him?

I was almost asleep when a voicemail came in.

Elliot.

This is the deal. You show up at my office at eight sharp or I’ll get you reassigned. There is no negotiation.

Relief filled the place where the last of the tension had been, as if a drain had opened in the bottom of me and the ugliness fell out. I only had to wait three hours to apologize.

elliot

“T
his is the deal. You show up at my office at eight sharp or I’ll get you reassigned. There is no negotiation.” I hung up before I could soften it or backpedal.

That was risky. She was as likely to make sure she never saw me again as she was to make an effort to ensure I stayed in her life. But I didn’t have any other cards to play. Threatening to put her back into Westonwood might give her exactly what she had been trying to get, if even subconsciously.

The clock said 7:58. Her call had come in seven hours ago.

I’d made the task of getting to the session on time almost impossible for my own sake as well as hers. I couldn’t live with her troubles and addictions. She’d ruin me. Calling her in at eight o’clock was self-preservation at its finest. She’d miss the appointment, I’d recuse myself from her care, and that would be it. I’d find a life somewhere in the rubble.

The little light behind my desk flashed.

Someone was in the waiting room.

Did I have another appointment?

I opened the door. She stood there, sunglasses on, smelling of soap, fingers twitching.

“Fiona.” I didn’t have anything more to say. I was overwhelmed with relief that she hadn’t let me push her away. I’d never wanted so badly for a plan to fail.

“Apologetic. Ashamed. Scared. Tired as hell,” she said.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m using different words to describe myself.”

fiona

I
 unloaded everything about the party, all its debasement and debauchery. I didn’t sugarcoat it. I was honest. I’d never been so honest in my life. I didn’t hold back a thing.

“My call,” I said. “It was… I’m sorry. I wanted to hurt you, and yes, I got high and stupid, and I lost interest in the whole thing. I think it was because you weren’t coming for me. It pissed me off, but it made me look at myself. And I was glad you weren’t coming.”

“So you went home?”

“Yes.”

“What did Deacon do?”

“What did he do? Well, let’s see. Apparently he was on his way to Eritrea, so he sent a mutual friend to fuck me?”

He raised an eyebrow.

“And I’m going to tell you what happened, but first I have to talk about the stupid thing I said to you yesterday and it was… did I say stupid?”

“What did you say?”

“I said I loved you. I think I meant it.” Fuck this. I wasn’t a high school kid with a crush. I was Fiona Fucking Drazen. “Actually, I know I meant it.”

He leaned forward, just a foot or so closer, and I felt the space between us contract and pull at me, as if I could lean forward another inch and close the gap.

“Transference,” he said. “It’s when the therapist fills a gap in your life that you recognize because of the therapy.”

I pressed my lips together and broke his gaze before it broke me. “Maybe. Sure. I was missing a therapist in my life and there you were.”

I sniffed. Stupid snot was gathering in my sinuses, and I had to sniff to get rid of it. I cleared my throat. Looked at my hands, then at him. I felt like an ass.

“I shouldn’t joke,” I said.