Reason (10 page)

In turn, Ivone reminded him about her parents’ relationship and how she was determined not to repeat their mistakes. Jamison seemed to understand her fears and tried to balance their strong physical encounters with more dialogue. She didn’t worry that he would cheat on her, like her father had done to her mom. Jamison’s possessiveness kept her by his side nearly every hour of the day. He installed a lock on his office door so that he could fuck her on his desk or over his chair, or sometimes on the heirloom carpet that covered the office floor. Ivone had a fond memory of one time when Jamison bound her to his desk, spread eagle, after stripping off her clothes, blindfolding her, and clamping her nipples and clit, attaching the clamps with a fine gold chain.

“You will not come without permission, Ivone,” he cautioned her. “And you will also remain silent.”

He then made a conference call while he tormented each nub with a vibrator and his fingertips. Ivone had hovered on the edge for what seemed like hours until he finally ended the call and shoved himself deep inside of her, ordering her to come as he popped the clamps, letting her vagina milk his heavy erection of his seed. Never had she felt so connected to him without an additional bite of pain.

He tried to exert his will over every aspect of her life, and for the most part, Ivone allowed it. She loved the clothes he chose for her to wear, and didn’t object to his expectation that she eat healthily. He had amazing taste in hairstyles and jewelry, and they shared the same taste in literature. The only time she balked was when he wouldn’t share the remote and expected her to watch football and other loud sports. She recognized and appreciated the compromise when he would cuddle with her while she watched a design show, something he clearly had little interest in. Mind you, she didn’t really get to see much of those shows, being either fucked silly or licked to orgasm by the second commercial. They entertained periodically, mostly Doms and their subs, but aside from using the playroom for one initiation to preserve the privacy of their group, that room was reserved for them. Ivone exulted in those times, but they weren’t the mainstay of the relationship. No, things had evolved and the kink was now the icing on the cake.

Ivone still worried that Jamison would forget to communicate with her, fail to alert her of his expectations and that she would let him down inadvertently. It would mean rebuilding again, and she didn’t think she had the energy. So she kept him honest, pushing him, making him share. There were times when he would resist, and take out his frustrations on her, but Ivone loved the correction, too. She had the best of both worlds and allowed herself to believe this was forever. Until her diagnosis.

Jamison shoved the desk drawer shut on the little black velvet box with an impatient hand. His senses were on high alert, and he had learned a long time ago never to ignore them. Something was going on with Ivone, and he didn’t know what it was. He believed he had come a very long way in their relationship. There were times when he wanted to spank her ass red when she wouldn’t let something go. It was like being pecked at in sensitive places by a little bird with a very sharp beak, but he had to admit that he was happier than he had ever been, and felt that his life was full of purpose. After over six months together, the intensity of their passion remained, but the other times were companionable and comforting somehow. He felt complete and satisfied. His life now had more purpose than just expanding his business and making money. Jamison couldn’t imagine life without Ivone, and he had planned to take her out for dinner and propose to her that very night, except she had pleaded tiredness and a headache and gone to her room. He knew his reaction was childish, because he was disappointed, but he was ticked with her. He had planned this for two weeks and it had taken considerable self-searching and courage. He wanted a child with Ivone, a child who would be raised with love and care, different from what either of them had experienced, a child to inherit everything he had worked for so it wouldn’t be in vain. He had begun to broach the subject with her, diffidently to be sure, but trying to express his need, knowing it might change everything between them. He had been willing to take the chance after researching how the dangers of childbirth were continually minimized as medicine evolved. He believed he loved Ivone, although he really didn’t have anything to compare that feeling to, and he didn’t want anything to happen to her, even if he really did want a child. But he did know that he didn’t want to wait another minute to ask her to marry him. He thought she would agree, and maybe she would say she loved him, and he would know for sure.

Jamison tapped on the bedroom door. “Ivone? May I come in?”

Ivone’s voice, muffled, came to him through the heavy wood panels. “No, Jamison. I’m not feeling at all well. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Jamison stared at the door like it was his worst enemy. And so it was. It stood between him and his sub. Ivone was crying, he could hear it in her voice. He suddenly felt bereft and raised his hand again to knock, then lowered it. All his past emotional insecurities came flooding back in that moment, and he felt powerless against them. Ivone was shutting him out. Ivone, who talked about feelings as though they were worth their weight in gold and subsequently weighed his by the same measure, was withholding. He found he couldn’t handle it and was next standing outside by his SUV without a memory of leaving the house. He climbed inside and cranked the engine, then wheeled it around in a spray of gravel and pushed it up to speed with little regard for safety.
Fuck this
. He felt like the skin had been flayed from him because he knew there was a message from Ivone in there, one he had missed and one he couldn’t begin to guess at.

Patrick offered him a chair and Jamison settled into it, declining a drink. He leaned his elbows on his knees and lowered his head into his hands.

“Want to tell me?” Patrick asked quietly.

Jamison sat up and stared at his mentor. Patrick had been his go-to guy over the past months when Jamison had needed someone to discuss thrice-damned, fucking feelings with, and to talk about whatever the hell Ivone was getting at, was wanting from him. It had been like learning a different language, but he had done it for her. He indeed was hopelessly in love with her and with that prescient ability of someone in love, in tune with his other, knew something terrible had happened. Some other man might have written off Ivone’s behavior tonight, shrugged it off, but Jamison knew better. He tried to find the words.

“Ivone locked herself in her room and won’t talk to me.”

Patrick didn’t minimize, much to Jamison’s relief. But then, Patrick was the most insightful man he had ever met. He knew women, and he knew Jamison.

“Tell me.”

“She usually comes to the office with me.” At Patrick’s sardonic eyebrow raise, Jamison found himself flushing like a schoolboy and needing to defend himself. “I want her with me as much as possible.”

Patrick smiled. “You’re both making up for lost time, my friend. Ivone has told Madi a few things about herself, so I think I understand. Both of you want a loving connection and you are patently in love with her and she with you.”

Jamison stood and paced the length of the office. “I only just accepted that it’s love, Patrick, but she’s never told me.”

“She must love you to put up with your shit, Jami, and to spend such energy on being patient while you work things through in your usual pedantic style. Your very kink must inspire total trust, especially since she has forgiven you for that initiation you didn’t prepare her for, and trust is the essential foundation for any relationship. Ivone probably wants to hear it from you first. Now tell me the events leading up to this most recent issue.”

“I had a couple of meetings this afternoon and Ivone decided to go shopping or get her hair cut or something rather than wait for me in my office. She usually waits.” Jamison stopped talking and began thinking.

Ivone hadn’t gone to do something as frivolous as shopping or even to the hair stylist. Ivone had told him she had a doctor’s appointment but he hadn’t really taken notice, because he wasn’t happy she didn’t want to wait for him to conclude his meetings. That selfish side of him still caused grief. He had insisted she see a doctor some weeks earlier when her menstrual cramps kept her in bed for two months in a row, in pain and very uncomfortable. It had worried him to see her that way. She had told him afterwards she would need to change her birth control again, and he had accepted it without initiating further discussion, retreating from thinking about women’s troubles. He hadn’t gone to that appointment with her, being extremely uncomfortable around doctors and the like, and ruefully recalled her quiet assertion that he was going to have a physical as soon as she found a good doctor who would take him as a new patient. Jamison suddenly realized that Ivone had been the recipient of bad news. Come to think of it, she had been a little off since that first appointment, but her explanation had reassured him, and he let it go because he hadn’t wanted to think it was anything more complicated. Women were fragile. He had convinced himself of that over the years to assuage his inner infant’s guilt over his mother’s death, the guilt stoked by his father. This was another reason not to commit to one. They could die and leave you, hurt you. Jamison felt rage, fueled by fear and worry rise up in his chest until he thought his temples would explode.

“Jami?” Patrick’s voice came from a distance.

“She’s sick, Patrick. Sick, and I didn’t notice, and she fucking well didn’t tell me. Because she wants to spare me. Because of what my mother’s death did to me, among other things. Like how I want my own way all the time. You don’t need to tell me why she is withholding. Ivone has given me everything, all of her. I don’t need her to say the words to know that she loves me, heart and soul. She’s at home right now trying to figure out a way to terminate our contract so that it will be her fault and I’ll escape without my pride getting hurt and without any guilt. Because I goddamn well didn’t tell her that I love her and that I want to care for her for the rest of my life. If I had, the first thing she fucking well would have done would be to tell me that she was sick.”

And following that convoluted piece of reasoning, Jamison crossed to the door and nearly tore it off the hinges as he threw it open in his need to get back to Ivone.

“Jami?” Patrick’s voice was compelling.

“What?” he snarled.

“Actions speak louder than words, my friend, but you might want to find out what’s wrong first. Find out how sick she is. And Jamison? Welcome to the human race, my friend. Love isn’t always kind.”

Jamison’s vision cleared at Patrick’s words, the red haze lifting like a curtain. Cold terror replaced it, and with it went his resolve. What if it was serious? What if? He couldn’t go there. He gritted his teeth and gave Patrick a look before he headed out to his vehicle.

* * * *

Ivone heard the front door open and close, sometime after Jamison had stormed out earlier. She had worked it out. She was going to listen to reason and do the right thing, although was no longer quite certain if she trusted herself to know what that was, because it hurt so badly. She would refuse Jamison. Oh, not all the time. Just on those occasions when she knew it would really annoy him. He had already felt pushed tonight when she had spoken to him through the door. And soon he would regress to being a boor and would give her a reason to blow up at him and storm out. It had been hard work, this compromising between them, this supporting one another. He had come so far, as had she, in becoming a healthier and happier human being, but Jami still had that cold flint deep inside of him. She saw it in his business dealings, and felt it when she pushed him. It scared her a little, and she knew it kept him from telling her he loved her. But it also protected him, and she respected that, was glad he had it, for now she would use it to give him his freedom. He wouldn’t be able to tolerate rejection for any length of time, and his formidable pride, backed by that piece of flint, would save him from too much heartache when she left. She was terribly sad, heartbroken in fact, to think of leaving him, but it
was
the right thing to do. Jamison wouldn’t be complete without a family, now that he had set his mind on making a baby, and she wasn’t going to stand in his way. She owed him that. He had given her more that she had ever hoped for, let alone deserved. She would cherish the memory of their time together, but she wouldn’t be selfish and saddle Jamison with a barren wife. She carefully made up her face and went out to start to put her plan in action.

Jamison was standing in the great room, his back to the fireplace, a glass in his hand. The amber liquid caught the glow from the sconces, and Ivone realized his hand was shaking, the liquor gently swirling in concert. Her steps faltered. Jami had himself under iron control, something she rarely saw anymore unless they were doing a scene. His eyes were fixed on her, their violet hue veiling his thoughts. Ivone suddenly wanted to run, knowing something momentous was coming down, something she wasn’t prepared for.

“Feeling better?”

Jamison’s quiet question nailed her feet to the floor. Ivone took a breath.

“I am, thanks.”

He turned to the fire, and she heard the glass thud onto the mantle, and then he had turned and was striding toward her with deadly intent. Ivone backed up, but he was upon her in an instant. He hauled her up against his chest and crushed her to him, taking her lips in a devastating kiss. Then he tore his mouth away and shook her, holding her by her upper arms, her feet off the floor. Ivone had opened her mouth to protest when Jamison set her down, only to scoop her up, cross the room and dump her in a chair. He knelt in front of her and took both of her hands in his.