The Denim Dom (Siren Publishing Sensations) (36 page)

Or maybe he didn’t want to extend things.

Either way, she’d decided just to let things play out.

He picked her up at seven to go to dinner with everyone before they headed to the club. She noticed at one point during dinner he seemed a little quiet, deep in thought. “Are you all right, Sir?” she softly asked.

He smiled, but it looked sad. “Sorry. Preoccupied. Can’t quite get myself out of work mode today. Early flight to Denver tomorrow.”

“Oh, that’s right. Your trip.” With every article she’d written, the e-mail response and web hits increased to the point it felt like her entire world revolved around BDSM both professionally and privately.

Not that she minded.

“Two weeks of hell,” he said with a smile. “I have a feeling I’ll make a few enemies while I’m out there. My staff in Bradenton is used to my management style. I want stuff done the way I say it, when I say I want it done. I don’t feel like spending more than two weeks out there because someone gets butthurt over me wanting them to work as hard as I do.”

She giggled. “Here’s my shocked face.” She made an
O
with her mouth.

That finally got a genuine smile out of him. “Keep it up, pet. I haven’t put you over the bench yet tonight.”

“Maybe that’s what I’m hoping for, Sir.”

Later, at the club, he took his time with their scene. He ramped her up with pain and pleasure several times, pushing her to her limits, making her cry and sob and plead for more until a final crescendo of cane strokes across her ass. After that, he used the rabbit on her and kept her coming until she wasn’t sure she could take anymore when he finally stopped.

With Shayla wrapped in a blanket and curled in his lap on the sofa, he kept his fingers laced through hers.

I love him.

He’d be gone two weeks, though. She didn’t want to just dump her feelings on him as he was leaving town for a brutal business trip. She didn’t want him to think she’d morphed into one of the clingy drama llamas he despised. She’d wait until he got back, make him a nice dinner, and then tell him. It would be a long two weeks waiting for his return, but then, hopefully, they could write a whole new chapter in their relationship.

She was, however, determined to make one request before he left on his trip. One she hoped he’d take her up on.

* * * *

Shayla’s body flew high on endorphins, still deep in subspace as Tony drove her home a few hours later. She hoped tonight to ask him to take that one last step, to rid their dynamic of that one final barrier.

She wanted him to own her. Fully, completely, utterly. Wanted to feel his cock, flesh and blood, fucking her.

When they arrived at her apartment, he took her keys from her and let them in, closing the door behind them. “Here you go,” he said, putting them back in her hand.

She didn’t understand his sad smile. “Thank you, Sir.”

“You don’t have to call me that anymore if you don’t want to, Shay.”

She blinked at his use of her name. “What?”

Before she realized what he was doing, he’d unbuckled her collar and removed it from her neck. Her hand went to her throat, where the cool air brushed against her flesh where seconds earlier the warm leather had cradled her throat like a hand.

His hand.

He cocked his head. “Shay, our time’s up. It’s the thirty-first. Remember?”

“What?”

He gently cradled her chin with his hand. “You said you wanted our contract to end tonight. That’s why I rearranged my schedule so I didn’t go out of town until tomorrow. I wanted to be able to take you out to the club one more time.” His thumb gently stroked her jaw before he released her and stepped back, the collar in his other hand.

She couldn’t process this. “But…” She tried to breathe because even that had become difficult. This wasn’t how she’d planned to end their evening!

“I’m sorry I can’t stay late tonight. I have to get up at five to make it to Tampa in time for my flight today. Like I told you, we start installs at the new Denver data center early Monday morning. And I still have to pack. Are you all right?”

No!
Her brain screamed it over and over again, but she found herself nodding a little. She would be a good girl for him.

She would show him what a good pet she could be.

He’d have more than enough on his plate. She didn’t want him to have to worry about her.

He reached out again and palmed her cheek. “Thank you,” he softly said. “This has been a wonderful experience. Thank you for placing your trust in me.” He leaned in and kissed her forehead. “I’m going to miss you while I’m out there.”

Her breath came in short, hitching gasps she knew would end up full-blown sobs if she didn’t get herself under control and fast. That wasn’t the way she wanted to leave things. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Don’t you want me? Don’t you need me?

Don’t you love me?

Involuntarily, she leaned into his touch even as he withdrew his hand and stepped back toward the door. “Go on to bed,” he softly said. “Get some rest. I’ll try to be in touch with you this week, but I’m going to be slammed and I doubt I’ll have cell reception inside the data center building there anyway. I likely won’t have many chances to talk while I’m gone.”

She nodded a little, unable to move, barely able to breathe.

That smile. That sweet, damn smile of his. “Lock the door after me, Shay.”

Before she could process that, he slipped out, closing the door behind him. She realized she was still clutching at her bare throat with her hand as her feet carried her forward. This was not how she’d thought their evening would end.

Far from it.

Finally releasing her throat, she reached out and snapped the deadbolt shut.

Feeling as if her very soul had been ripped from her, she turned and headed toward the bedroom.

* * * *

Tony forced himself to get in the car and start it. It wasn’t until he reached the main gate of her complex that he stopped and pressed his forehead against the steering wheel. He took several deep breaths to steady himself.

Still warm from being wrapped around her flesh all night, her collar lay in his lap. He fingered it, something in his heart feeling unraveled and frayed at the thought of her not wearing it.

He’d thought about broaching the subject of them having a real relationship now that their agreement was over, but she hadn’t said anything about it.

She’s a big girl. She spoke up when she wanted to add oral to the arrangement, I’m sure she’d speak up now if she wanted to keep things going. I refuse to take advantage of her. Especially when she’s still deep in subspace. If she wants a relationship, she’s going to have to ask for it and tell me that’s what she wants. I won’t be a douche and take advantage of her when she’s like this.

“Fuck.” Once he returned from his trip and could think about something other than work, he’d ask her to sit down to talk with him. See if there was any chance for them as a couple. Tonight, as tired and rushed for time as he was, it wasn’t the right time to talk about it. Especially when she was in no headspace to have such a conversation.

He’d promised he wouldn’t change the rules on her, wouldn’t renegotiate on the fly. Considering how he’d narrowly avoided destroying her trust in him with the letter-reading incident, he wasn’t about to do something in the heat of the moment that would kill her trust in him and drive her away.

I won’t be a douche.

Not to mention, since she hadn’t asked him about it before now, he wasn’t sure he wanted to face the very real possibility of getting shot down right before what would already be a grueling couple of weeks working out of town.

He laid the collar on the passenger seat and headed out toward I-75 to go home.

He didn’t sleep at all. After packing, he tried to lie down for a nap and gave up. Sleep wouldn’t come. All he could see were Shay’s hazel eyes and the lost look on her face when he uncollared her.

She hadn’t protested, though. She hadn’t asked him not to.

She didn’t beg him to stay, or to at least talk about it.

She didn’t ask him to extend their time together. He would have gladly and readily agreed to that without further discussion. It would have bought him more time with her.

It’s not like she doesn’t know how to ask for what she wants.
His mind refused to release that point, chewing on it. She’d asked to include oral sex as part of their agreement. That was a pretty big step. If she’d wanted more from him, surely she would have asked for it before now.

His thoughts kept returning to that, that she could have asked.

That he
wished
she’d asked.

That he wished she’d told him she loved him, the way he knew he loved her.

If she doesn’t want to end things, we can talk about it when I get back. I’d rather sit down and have a long talk with her than rush it and fuck it up.

She’s worth waiting for, if it’s really meant to be. It’s only two weeks.

He forced it out of his mind as he drove to Tampa and parked in the airport’s long-term parking lot. As he stood in line to board his flight to Denver, he fingered his cell phone.

Maybe I should text her.

But she would likely be asleep until later in the afternoon. Then there was the fact that he would have to hit the ground running and head over to the construction site as soon as he got a rental car to find the manager. They were going to meet to go over the next day’s schedule.

With a sigh he turned off his phone and slipped it into his pocket.
I’ll text her later.

* * * *

Shayla stretched out on her bed and cried herself to sleep after Tony left. In the morning, with a throbbing headache and a sick stomach, she curled into a ball and stared at the clock. 11:17 in the morning.

He’s in the air already.

And then he would be in Denver, overseeing the installation of the new equipment, for at least two weeks.

I can do this.

The next morning, she burst into tears when she caught herself picking up her phone to text him before leaving the apartment. The thought of calling in sick to work appealed greatly to her, but she had to get the last article finished and turned in.

After washing her face again and forgoing makeup that would run and smear and make her look even worse, she forced herself to drive to work. It wasn’t until she was there that she realized she wore her amulet necklace.

She didn’t have the heart to take it off.

Loren texted her while she was in the Monday morning editorial meeting, and she ignored it. Until after lunch, when she realized she had three more texts and four voice mails from Loren, each one sounding increasingly worried, along with additional texts from Leah, Tilly, and Clarisse, all asking if she was okay.

She locked herself in the bathroom to cry and respond to her friends. They all got the same generic message courtesy of copy and paste.

I’m okay. Busy day. Will text later.

She pulled herself together. Barely.

With her headphones on and her music turned up as loud as she could tolerate it, she opened a fresh document file on her computer.

When I first started on this journey I genuinely wanted to learn, as both a journalist and as a woman, what appeal the BDSM lifestyle held for so many.

She caught herself fingering the amulet.

Closing her eyes to squeeze the tears back, she took a few deep breaths to steady herself. Then her index fingers came to rest on F and J on her keyboard as she opened her eyes to type some more.

Popular fiction leaves many with a completely erroneous impression of the people who participate in this admittedly alternative lifestyle. I consider it the utmost honor to now call many of the people I met while writing this piece my friends.

I wanted to experience firsthand the things many go through on their journey. If nothing else, so I could accurately write about it.

I never expected to learn so much about myself in the process, or fall in love with it along the way.

Sobbing as quietly as she could, she continued to type and prayed no one came up behind her and spotted her like this.

They say as journalists we’re supposed to stay as objective as possible when reporting a story. BDSM is an issue already charged with controversy. It’s fine to say that mental health professionals understand consensual sexual acts are normal and healthy behavior for those who willingly choose to participate, even if it is a minority of people.

But the truth isn’t nearly as clinical as that. And learning about BDSM changed my life for the better. I learned how to let go and trust and feel things I never before dreamed I would ever experience, much less enjoy…

Shayla’s fingers flew across the keys. She refused to censor herself and knew she’d completely sailed into the realm of commentary and editorial instead of a feature news story.