No Ordinary Love Story: Sequel to The Diary of a Submissive (31 page)

It was the first time he’d ever asked me such a thing (although afterwards he claimed it was because he didn’t want to ruin any other plans I had, rather than asking permission per se. I remain unconvinced).

‘Of course you can,’ I said, more in surprise than anything else. This time I didn’t stop moving.

He shouted when he came. If the rest of the hotel didn’t know we were in here having sex before then they did now – maybe breakfast in the room tomorrow morning was a plan. I felt his cock twitch and fill me. His orgasm seemed to last for ages before he finally collapsed back, eyes shut, exhausted.

I quickly untied his arms and helped him move them back to his sides. He said they had gone to sleep a bit but would be fine.

I stood up and took off the latex dress, enjoying the cool air on my skin after the warmth of the dress for a few moments before I got back into bed to snuggle up to him. I’d have asked him if he enjoyed his birthday present but he was already fast asleep – I didn’t take offence and considered it a sign things had gone quite well. I mocked him for it when he roused a little later – but then he asked for a glass of champagne and we started all over again.

We did end up having breakfast in the room the next morning. It just seemed less embarrassing somehow. Plus it meant we didn’t need to get dressed.

Not telling Adam when James sent me flowers was one thing. When he turned up at my office suddenly, it felt like something I might have to bring up, no matter how awkward it felt.

It was a week or two after Adam’s birthday. I’d had a couple of manic weeks at work, but the big redesign we were all working on was coming to an end and I was looking forward to getting through the afternoon and heading out for celebratory drinks later.

I was dashing out to buy a sandwich to see me through the afternoon when I, almost literally, bumped into James. My first thought was one of suspicion. His office was over the other side of the city, so the chances that he was just walking past in the middle of the day were pretty slim. He raised his hand to wave hi and, while I wanted to pretend I hadn’t seen him, I figured he’d just follow me if I tried to dash off.

‘Hello.’ He smiled.

‘Hi.’ I didn’t. This felt incredibly awkward. I’m rubbish at reading the signs of what’s going on in these situations at the best of times. My experiences with James had proved that I found him more difficult to read than anyone else. I could do without this. I didn’t say anything else.

‘Are you heading out for lunch?’

I swallowed down my irritation. It was 1.10 p.m. on a Friday afternoon. The chances were high. ‘No. I’m going out on a job.’

He looked at me for a long moment. ‘Can I buy you a sandwich before you go out?’

We both knew I was lying about the job. And he clearly had something he wanted to talk about. I was curious, proof of my masochistic tendencies, if more were needed. Maybe clearing the air was a good idea. I sighed and began walking down the street as he began following me.

‘I’ll buy my own sandwich.’

By the time we’d ordered our sandwiches I was wondering why on earth I’d thought this was a good idea. It was hideously awkward. I kept sneaking looks at James’s face when he wasn’t looking. He looked more unsettled than I’d ever known him to be. In the end, as was so often the case, I cracked first. ‘What’s up? Are you OK?’

He took a sip of his drink and nodded slowly. ‘Yeah, I’m fine. Good.’

A long pause. This was going brilliantly, not least because I wasn’t actually sure I cared whether he was alright.

‘I was at a meeting nearby so I thought I’d come and hang around to see if you were about so we could catch up.’

So many sarcastic comments flitted through my mind. I tried to ignore them for something safer. ‘You should have rung.’

He smiled wryly. He knew me too well. He knew what I was thinking. ‘I did consider it, but you either have a new
mobile number or have been ignoring my messages. I thought about ringing your office but I was hoping the element of surprise might work in my favour.’

I smiled in spite of myself; it was a rueful smile. It felt weird that someone I had felt such a connection to, felt so in love with, could be sitting opposite me like a stranger. Worse than a stranger – an unwelcome acquaintance. ‘And how’s that gone for you?’

He laughed, an echo of previous times. ‘Not brilliantly. I don’t think this is the most happy you’ve ever been to see me.’

His mouth was smiling but his eyes were sombre. I couldn’t even summon up a quirk of my lips. My patience levels were low and I’d tired of the game. It was like picking at a scab. ‘Why are you really here, James?’

His voice was hesitant. ‘To ask you out for dinner.’

It was ironic to think there was a time I’d have felt excited at him doing that. Not now. I wanted to kick him in the shins for hurting me so badly. I took a long look at him. He looked a bit tired, slightly defeated. It was like he knew what my answer would be before I gave it.

‘I can’t.’ Shit, this was what had worried me when I wrote that email. Ambiguity is why this is so difficult. ‘I don’t want to,’ I clarified. Bit harsh? Maybe. I tried to temper it. ‘I just don’t think it’s a good idea. I’m in a new relationship now, and I’m happy. Going to dinner, even innocently –’ (I thought the caveat was important, I still had no bloody clue exactly what he was thinking) ‘– would feel wrong. In fact, this feels wrong.’

He looked hurt. I felt a pang of guilt at hurting him, until he spoke at least. ‘Look, it doesn’t matter that you’re
seeing Thomas still. I’ve tried to forget you too. I can’t. I wondered if you’d like to try again.’ He smiled slightly. ‘Or try properly really, because we never really did.’

I felt such a surge of rage I didn’t even know where to begin. ‘No, we never really did. That was your choice. And you told me you loved me then, but then buggered off anyway. I don’t want to try anything with you.’

He opened his mouth to reply but I cut him short before he could. ‘And it’s nothing to do with Tom. I’ve met someone else. We’re living together, we’re happy, we have a life together.’

He looked confused, sheepish, surprised that I might have found someone else. It made me want to pour his coffee in his lap. ‘But I loved you. I love you,’ he replied.

They were words I’d have given so much to hear when I needed them most but now that’s all they were – hollow words. Suddenly I was tired.

‘James, you don’t love me. I’m sorry if you’re hurting but this isn’t love. Remember when you said you loved me and that’s why you found it so difficult to inflict pain on me and had to step back from dominating me?’

He nodded.

‘Well, don’t you think if you’d loved me then you’d have missed just seeing me without any D/s, or any sex at all?’

He interrupted then, but it was a bit half-hearted, the protestation of a small boy who’s been caught out. ‘I did miss you. I do.’

I shook my head. ‘If you’d missed me you wouldn’t have been able to stay away. But you did. And it’s fine, I’m not offended really. You probably did me a favour. We weren’t going to work long term. I needed the reassurance,
someone who I knew where I was with. No second-guessing, no wondering.’

His question was part curiosity, part wistfulness. ‘Have you got that now?’

I didn’t see the point in answering, felt no need to justify my relationship with Adam to him. I didn’t want to talk about something so special with him when it wasn’t his business. But I knew in my heart that the answer to his question was a definite yes.

We finished lunch quickly, with the bare minimum of awkward small talk, but I felt relieved that it was done. He said he’d keep in touch as friends but we both knew, as he kissed me on the cheek, that he wasn’t going to. And I was OK with that.

By the time I walked back to the office for the afternoon, I had the beginnings of a headache forming across the bridge of my nose. I’m not great with confrontation, and while I knew that I’d done the right thing, I hated the fact I might have hurt his feelings, even while I felt a burning annoyance that he seemed to think he could slope back into my life after months of silence.

I also knew I’d have to tell Adam that we’d met. I didn’t know how he’d react, and while things had settled down since our trip to York, and his business was going well, I didn’t want to do anything that made him feel unsure about my feelings for him. I also didn’t want to make it seem like James was still a factor in my life – it was quite awkward, given that we’d talked a lot about my feelings for James early on, back when I’d not even considered a relationship with Adam as a possibility.

It was all so bloody complicated.

Of course, when we finally got to the pub for my evening work do, it didn’t help when Mark jokingly told Adam off for showing up the blokes in the office by sending ostentatious bouquets of flowers.

Adam’s eyes flickered over to me. I knew I looked stricken and a bit guilty, but what could I say at that point? He smiled at Mark and said, ‘Sorry, mate’, and the conversation moved on, but I knew it would come up later. He wasn’t daft, and he wasn’t someone who’d just let that pass without asking about it, even though he knew that it was probably all innocent.

Except now it didn’t feel innocent. It felt like an accidental betrayal. And paired with having to tell him about my impromptu lunch with James earlier that day, it was suddenly looking like we’d have to have a potentially hideous conversation.

Shit.

We got a lift back with Shona, who’d got the weekend shift and so hadn’t been drinking. We all chatted easily enough in the car about the traffic, the weather, all those random things that fill the silence. But then we were home and I had a ball of nerves in the pit of my stomach.

To his credit, he didn’t let me stew about it.

I started taking my coat off and he moved into the kitchen to switch the kettle on, as much for something to do, I think, as anything else.

‘So what’s the deal with the flowers?’ He had his back to me, so I couldn’t tell how casual and laid-back he actually was, but his tone was calm. I took a deep breath.

‘James sent them.’

He put the tin holding the teabags back into the cupboard with more force than strictly necessary. ‘I don’t remember you bringing them home. When was this?’

I hesitated. ‘A month or two ago now. The night I went out for cocktails with Charlotte. I gave them to her, I didn’t want them.’

He turned to look at me, his eyes watchful, wary in a way that made me feel rotten. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

So many possible answers. I decided to keep it simple. ‘It didn’t seem important. It felt inappropriate to bring them home, so I gave them to Charlotte instead. I just didn’t think to mention it.’

‘Inappropriate’? How had this got so stupidly formal?

‘Charlie took them?’

I nodded.

‘And did she know who they were from?’

I nodded again, albeit slightly confused. Why did that matter? His face definitely said that it did.

‘So why tell her and not tell me?’

I shrugged my shoulders. ‘It honestly didn’t seem important. We didn’t have a massive conversation about them, I just told her when I handed them over.’ I thought it best to leave out that I’d deliberately not mentioned it until she was getting into her cab so she didn’t get a chance to question me about it further.

He scanned my face looking for more. It made me nervous. Times like this, him knowing me so well, didn’t work in my favour.

‘So why did he send you flowers?’

I sighed. There was no way not to have this conversation
now. ‘He asked me out.’ I tried to smile, but he didn’t return it. ‘Obviously I said no.’

His arms were now crossed against his chest. He looked harsh but also hurt. I wanted to make it better but had no bloody clue how to, just a certain knowledge he wasn’t going to like what I said next, although it had to be said.

‘I saw him today and told him about you. How happy we are, how I’m not interested in anything with him any more.’

‘You saw him? Where?’

‘He came to my office.’ I swallowed before continuing. ‘We went for lunch.’

His voice was suddenly brusque. ‘You went on a lunch date with him?’

The cold anger in his voice suddenly made me furious. ‘Of course I didn’t go on a bloody lunch date with him. He was lurking outside my office waiting to invite me for lunch. I decided it was best to go and just tell him I wasn’t interested in person to get it over with.’

‘Really?’ He didn’t sound convinced.

‘Really.’

‘And were you going to tell me you’d met him for lunch?’

I could feel my voice getting more shrill as I got angry, but I couldn’t stop myself. ‘Of course I was.’

His laugh was bitter. ‘How am I supposed to believe that when you didn’t even tell me he’d got back in touch?’

I was starting to panic. We didn’t really have rows in our house when I was growing up and a hangover of that upbringing was that I hated this kind of confrontation. If I’m honest, I was crap at coping with it. I had no idea
what to say, hated the fact I’d upset him and yet felt a burning sense of injustice and a rising sense of anxiety. I couldn’t cock this up now.