SecretDom (2 page)

“Make it a pumpkin spice this morning, ok? Skim milk and decaf, and the
usual wrap. Please.
” Rissa thumbed through the
New York Times sitting on the
counter for sale while she waited for her order, smirking to herself at the advice column for the day.
Desperately Dating in Dallas
—
Poor
guy’d been on dozens of
first dates that never got him a second date. Turns out he was rushing through one date to get to the next one on the same night. All Rissa could think about was some
funny picture she’d seen browsing the internet that read ‘
Try going down a water slide with n
o water and you’ll understand why foreplay is so important.’ The advice
columnist seemed to agree, offering the sage advice,
‘
You have to take your time with a woman if you want her to stick around for more than one night. A woman
doesn’t want a two pump chump, so slow down and see where the first woman will
take you before scheduling in time for another woman.
’ Ain’t that the truth
?

When her order slid across the counter to her, she reached for her wallet to pay, but the young man behind the counter stopped her, and instead, held out an
envelope exactly like the one she’d found in her mailbox last night.

“Your breakfast is already taken care of, Ms. Trent. A nice man came in this
morning, took care of your usual order, left a hefty tip, and asked me to give this to you.
I’m not much for romance, but that seems like some sappy chick-flick stuff
right there.
Lucky girl, luckier man, I say.” No way was this kid more than 17 or
18, but he winked and smiled at her like he did every morning. She never responded
with more than a “thank you” in return for his shameless flirting every morning, but she didn’t say anything this tim
e just took her order and stared at the card as she walked to her car, stunned and more than a little freaked out. First the letter at her home last night that had to have been hand delivered; now
she’d been
ambushed at her usual coffee shop. The situation had bad news written all over it, but again, she found herself pulling the ribbon to open the envelope. Inside, in the same gold embossed print as the one before was another intriguing message:

There is nothing vanilla about you, Reese’s. I never believed in love at first
sight until I met you, but in that moment, I knew it existed. When it is time, I hope that you will know too. -E

Panic and nervousness began to set in. Someone was following her and knew way too much about her habits
—
where she lived, where she bought her
coffee, and even though she’d opted for pumpkin spice this morning, her morning
coffee order. She closed her
eyes to breathe and pretend that this wasn’t
real. She lifted the letter, reading it again, but this time, certain words jumped off the page at her
—
vanilla
wasn’t just a reference to her usual drink order, it was a double
entendre, a reference to the darker submissive side the first note had alluded to.

That wasn’t the biggest thing that caught her attention though. Reese’s was. When she’d first discovered the world of BDSM, there’d been someone who took
her under his wing and showed her the ropes. He
’d
nick-named her after the candy because he said she was so sweet she made his teeth hurt and because it was so close to her actual name. The only problem was his initial was M not E. No, these letters
had to be from someone she’d met back when everyone knew her as Reese’s
, but no
matter how hard she wracked her brain, she couldn’t come up with a name for her
mysterious secret admirer. Pondering this issue, her coffee became cold, and now she was late for work. Even worse, the realization that she had managed to catch the attention of someone from her past, more importantly, from the Dom/sub part of her past, had her panties uncomfortably damp.
It’d been so long since she’d
experienced the pleasure of relinquishing control to another.

Thank goodness her office had a sofa, no windows, and a door that locked. Clutching the envelope in one hand and her coffee and breakfast in the other, she raced to the elevator of her office building and shifted from one foot to the other, squeezing her thighs together for any bit of relief as she impatiently counted the floors to her office. Fourteen floors passed by torturously slow before the elevator dinged at her floor,
and she couldn’t get off fast enough. She’d passed half a dozen
people on her way to her door at the end of the hallway by the emergency exit but
didn’t have time to stop and chit chat.

“I have a very important call to make real
ly quickly. Hold my calls and appointments.
I’ll be done shortly, ok
Melanie
?” If the receptionist answered, Rissa
didn
’t hear it. Fumbling with the key to her office, she slammed the door shut and
dropped everything on the desk.
She’d just climaxed the night before, less than
twelve hours ago,
but it didn’t put a dent in the arousal that soaked the tiny pink
satin fabric that covered her pussy now. Something about knowing there was someone
who wanted her so badly that they’d wait years after meeting her and still
be attracted enough to send her secret love notes was intoxicatingly erotic.

Her skin was flushed and covered in goose flesh
, and she couldn’t get her
skirt hiked up fast enough. She lay down on the small sofa in her office, slid her panties down over her brown saddle shoe pumps and onto the floor. She needed something fast; the ribbed rubber finger cover she used to help grip papers would do just fine. Slipping the small office tool over the end of her middle finger, she slid it between her legs and let the textured cover rub her clit firmly. She shook as she
neared orgasm and focused on what it’d be like t
o have her unknown mister throw her over her desk and make love to her on her lunch break.

The frantic knocking on the door, however, stopped her in her sexually frustrated tracks. Pushing herself up, she snatched up her panties and righted her skirt before tucking the damp fabric into her purse, dropping the rubber into the trash, and checking her hair in the reflection of the computer screen. Rolling her eyes and sighing heavily, she yanked open the door to see her assistant trembling on the other side, rapidly babbling about the boss being pissed off and looking for answers. Mousy and petite, the slight female blushed, dropping her eyes to look away.

“Oh. I’m so sorry, Rissa. I…I didn’t mean to interrupt
;
I didn’t realize you
had a guest. Mr. Jakobs is looking for you regarding the quarterly financials
…”
Marianne spoke so quietly Rissa could hear the tapping of her own shoe on the polished marble flooring.

“What are you talking about? There’s nobody in here…” “It’s just, well, your cheeks are f
lushed and your chest is reddish, I just

assumed
… Forget I said anything. Should I tell Mr. Jakob you’ll be a minute?”
Marianne turned on her heel and hurried back to her desk before Rissa could answer.

She stood there stunned and embarrassed, choking on her response. Had it
been that obvious what she’d been up to in her office? Her skin flushed even more,
and she closed the door quickly. Leaning against the inside of the door, she breathed heavily, attempting to calm herself down. Pushing off the door, she grabbed her purse, fixed her makeup and spritzed perfume all over herself, trying to hide the scent of her arousal.

By the time five o’clock rolled around, she was more on edge than she’d
ever been. Rocking back and forth in her chair had done next to nothing to help ease the constantly
throbbing need that’d been stoked every time she looked at the letter
sitting in her purse or sensed the subtle cologne of her mystery man that permeated the letter. On her way out of the office, despite all the talk of dinner plans and drinks with the girls around her, the only thing on her mind was getting home quickly for a date with a set of D-cell batteries.

Chapter Three

Violent pounding on her door dragged her from Chinese food, wine, and orgasm induced slumber. She wrapped a bed sheet around her naked form and padded to the front door. One look through the peep hole had her rubbing her temple trying to ward off the impending headache standing on the other side. Dirty blonde hair combed to the side like some wannabe politician, and deep brown eyes accented by no more than harsh slashes of eyebrows topped off by a suit and tie peered back at her through the tiny glass window. This was going to be a long morning.

“Deacon, what are you doing here? It’s
five-thirty in the morning.
I don’t
have to be up for work for another hour.
” When he stomped through the door like
he still owned the place, she closed the door behind him and rolled her eyes.
“Sure, by all means, come on in.” Yes, her home felt lonely with him gone, but they were
no longer together. That had been his choice, besides, after the night she preferred
to refer to as Armageddon, the few times they’d run into each other hadn’t been
terribly friendly encounters. His new bimbette was eighteen and mostly made of plastic, with an attitude to match. She was constantly present, and usually drunk, a
reminder that Deacon had chosen the blonde doll and her Daddy’s money over
Rissa.

“I left a jump drive here. The one with all our pictures on it. I t’
s got other files I need.
I tried calling you last night, but you didn’t answer, and I need it for work.” His tone was accusatory, like she was purposely not answering his calls, but she wasn’t screening her calls, she was just…b
usy.
Rissa’s skin heated as she remembered the letter and what she’d done after reading it. Following him into the
bedroom, she stood at the door clutching her sheet to her as he rummaged through the boxes in the closet, cursing like a drunken sailor.
When he didn’t find it, he
moved to the nightstand, but before pulling open the drawer, he stopped. Picking up
the letter she’d received from her unknown admirer, he turned an equally pained and
angry glance her way.

“What’s
this, Rissa?
You’re getting love letters now? Thought you’d swo
rn
off men after me.” His eyes traveled up and down her barely concealed body, and
he smirked.
“Looks like you gave whoever he is a good ride. Now I know why you didn’t answer your phone.” After tossing her letter onto the floor, he dug around the drawer until he found what he’d been looking for
. As he sauntered past her on his way out the door, he slapped her ass through the thin sheet.
“Don’t fuck it up with
your
‘
tie me up and hurt me Daddy
’ bullshit.”

Rubbing the sting of her ass where h
e’d smacked it, she turned around and
stomped after him.
He’d been so different in the beginning. Now he was just a
dick.
“Hey, asshole! I was by myself last night, thank you. I didn’t give anybody a ride, and in case you’ve forgotten, you don’t get t
o give me relationship advice or comment on my sex life anymore! You gave up that right when you walked out that door for trust-fund Barbie and her too-big-to-be-believable tits! Next time you want
to stop by for something, do me a favor, don’t!”

“Hey l
ook sweet cheeks;
I’m just trying to help you out. That whole ‘
hurt me to please me
’ thing is something freaks with leashes and too much ecstasy are
into, not normal people. All that fifty shades bullshit
…real men don’t want that.
Submissive
—
come on. Men want a strong, independent woman, not some needy little wuss.
Whatever, Riss, you want to be walked all over, that’s your business now, not mine, thank fuck.”

The wicked thought that Deacon wouldn’t know a real man if he was being
fucked in the ass by one snuck up on her,
and she couldn’t help but shout it at him as
she slammed the door behind him. Still seething after he walked out the door, she stood there fuming for several minutes before throwing the first thing that reminded her of him across the room, ignoring the small dent the picture frame left in the sheetrock. Who was he to judge her? And what did he know anyway? It took a strong woman to submit to a strong Dom; to give up everything, body, soul, control.
It wasn’t weak to be submissive
,
and it didn’t make her a wuss or
a freak! By the time she
’d stopped ranting to her empty loft and managed to wrangle her temper into
something manageable, the alarm clock was screeching, and it was time to leave. First stop though was to drop off the last of anything and everything that belonged to him or reminded her of their time together at the Goodwill store. Better that than feeding them to her fireplace when she got home.