Whipped) (9 page)

My phone rings, and I wake. Come on. You don't call people this early. I mean it's only… oh, it's three in the afternoon. Give me a break. I had a late show last night.

I sit up in bed, sheets falling off my body, and look around. Vi is already gone to work, probably about seven hours ago. She was asleep when I got home last night. These hours suck for us both sometimes, but soon we'll have a schedule that matches. I'm looking forward to that.

My phone rings again and I remember why I'm even awake at all right now and check the caller ID. It's Mrs. Wallace. She must have looked over the revised proposal. I sent it months ago and have been on pins and needles waiting, but didn't want to appear overeager. Shit has to happen soon, though. My contract is nearly up and I have to make a decision. My stomach turns. I take deep breaths.

"Hello."

"Hello, Mr. Pierce. Tell me, did you understand our last conversation?"

I swallow, and it feels like I'm swallowing a rock. "Yes."

"Oh, then perhaps you need to brush up on your math, because this center is still a waste of resources."

I squeeze the phone. "The center will do exactly what it's supposed to."

"Except make money." She sighs. "I'm sorry, but I can't invest in your business. Good luck, Mr.—"

"Wait. Wait—"

The line goes dead. The conversation is over. My funding is gone.

I sit there, unable to fully grasp what just happened. I've been working on this deal for months. I've busted my ass, kissed other people's asses, done everything I could to make this dream real… and it all just disappeared because of one phone call. I realize my hand is gripping the phone so hard I might break it, so I put it down and take a few deep breaths to calm myself.

This is for the best. It has to be.

And maybe I'll eventually believe that.

I hear our front door open, which snaps me out of my pity party. I pull on a pair of jeans and walk into the living room. Vi's holding two paper cups. Her hair's up in a twist. "Brought you coffee, sleepy head."

"Thanks. No work?" I ask as I accept the cup and take a yummy sip.

"I opened. Zoe is closing." She tilts her head and frowns. "You okay? You seem… off."

I take another sip of my coffee and my head clears a bit, senses sharpening. Maybe it's just the placebo effect, but it works. I notice Vi's red shirt, tight over her breasts. I notice her shorts and her smooth legs. I take her coffee and set both down. I don't think. I act.

I wrap my arms around her. I kiss her. I push her back. I pin her against the door.

She moans. "Want to go to the bedroom?"

I bite on her neck. "No."

"The floor?"

"No. I need you
now
, Vi. I need my cock inside you." I unzip my pants and slip on a condom. I pull down her shorts and panties, and lift her up against the door. She wraps her legs around me.

And I slam my cock inside her. She feels soft and warm, and I need more. I start to pound her hard and fast, her back thudding against the door with each thrust. She runs her nails down my shoulders. She grabs my ass and pulls me closer, deeper. "Lachlan," she pants, her words made staccato by my movements, "don't stop."

I'm not about to. I have a hunger in me, and only Vi can quench it. "Where next? The floor? The couch?"

She bites her lip. "No. Don't stop."

"I won't." I swing away from the door, still holding her on my cock, and walk over to the couch. I drop her down on the cushions and pull her feet over my shoulders. She slips up her shirt, exposing her hard nipples. Fuck, she looks beautiful spread out before me. I start moving my cock again, more slowly this time, enjoying the view, enjoying the firm grip of her pussy.

She squeezes her tits together, playing with them. "Impressive," she says. "But you've slowed down. Getting tired?"

I ram my cock inside her so hard she screams.

"Not even close." I pound her deeper, harder, faster, running my hand through her hair. I tug on it, gently at first. Then harder. She gasps, and I know she's close to coming. I speed up.

"Lachlan, fuck, your cock feels so good." Her pussy tightens, and she trembles with ecstasy in my arms. When she comes, we both cry out in pleasure. It's amazing. I'm not done.

I lift her up again and carry her to the kitchen table. She lays down flat over our shared puzzle. I spread her legs further than before, and slide my cock deep inside her. I feel her taking me in completely.

"Fuck, Lachlan. You feel so fucking huge."

This position does that. "I need you to feel all of me, Vi. I need you to understand how much I love your pussy. How much I need it."

"Yes. Show me."

I pull her legs in front of my chest and slightly cross them, creating a tighter fit for both of us. I begin to increase my speed. With one hand, I play with her tits. She grabs it and bites down on my fingers. Fuck. I let her moan on my fingers as I take her faster than ever, building toward a climax for us both. When she screams my name, I let myself go, coming inside her, falling down from a high that should never end.

I collapse on top of her, and we hold each other.

Vi smiles. "That was different."

"I needed different."

She teases. "Growing tired of me?"

I kiss her nose and pull away, zipping up my jeans. "Never."

"Good." She sits on the table. "Pass my pants." I throw them. She catches. "So, what happened?"

I raise my eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"Something made you angry. You fuck harder when you're angry."

Can't argue with that. "My investor pulled out."

"I see, so in retribution you fucked me and didn't pull out once."  She laughs for moment. I don't. She stops. "Sorry. That was… sorry." She stands up and grabs her coffee from the counter. "What are you going to do?"

"Find more investors and…" Fuck, who am I kidding? I've already looked. Mrs. Wallace was the only one interested. Apparently, because she misunderstood my goals. Of course, I haven't tried outside of Nevada, but that will take time. I've already spent enough.

"There is one option. I've been offered to tour one more year for two million." The words hurt to say.

Vi freezes, cup halfway to her mouth. "That's a lot of money. Where would you be going?"

"New York. Florida. All over the States."

"If you can't be here, that changes things."

I walk over to her. "I know. I haven't committed to anything yet."

She shrugs. "You should really think about it. Don't let what's going on between us stop you." She acts indifferent, but her body trembles.

I grab her hand. "It's too late for that. You’re a part of my decisions now. I can't pretend like this relationship doesn't matter."

"Then don't, but don't give up your dreams for me."

Dreams? I used to have only one. Helping kids. But now, I have Vi. She snuck inside my picture of the future. She made it more messy and beautiful at once. I wouldn't have it change.

I lock up thoughts of money and business, and turn my attention to something I've been considering. "I ran into Chad the night of the party."

Vi drops her jaw. "Did you have to google how to hide a body?"

I chuckle. "No. We had a good talk. Well, a talk anyway. It got me thinking. We have an amazing sex life—"

"But…" She frowns.

I smile to put her at ease. "But I want to do more things you enjoy, try out the ideas you have. So if you need to do your thing with me…" I brush her cheek with my hand. "I once told you, there might be more pieces to you than you know. I now realize, there might be more pieces to me, too. I'll never know unless I try."

I don't want Lach to leave. But I don't want to tell him to stay. Because I don't want to be the woman who ruins her lover's life by getting him to give up his dreams for her. Or something like that.

I'm really trying not to think about it.

It hurts too much. It scares me. Which is why tonight is the perfect time to be the Mistress again. And why I'm so grateful that Lachlan suggested this. Not that what we have in bed—and really on any surface we can find—hasn't been completely, unbelievably mind-blowing. It has.

But this is who I am too, and I can't give this up entirely, even for Lach.

So I'm ready. When he gets home everything will be set up for a night of kink and bondage.

But first, the food. I'm going to prove to him I can carry my own weight in our roommate/relationship arrangement, and that I can follow instructions to make dinner.

Tonight I've made us homemade macaroni and cheese, baked, with a salad bar. Can't go wrong with that, right?

I greet him with a kiss when he comes home and guide him to the candlelit table I've set up for us. He raises an eyebrow. "This wasn't what I was expecting."

I sit across from him and put a cloth napkin on my lap. "Oh, this isn't the Dom part. This is the girlfriend date part. The Dom part comes after dinner. Wait until you see the bedroom."

He glances toward the hallway with a bemused expression and then turns back to me. "And you cooked?"

I nod.

"From scratch?"

I nod again.

He sniffs the plate. "Seems okay. Looks great. I'm… impressed," he says, as if he's asking a question.

"Hey now, I'm not totally useless in the kitchen. I just got distracted the night I made the pasta."

"Distracted? That's what you call dumping an entire jar of chili pepper into the sauce and burning the garlic bread to small black disks?"

"It's Cajun style." I sip my wine, take a bite of the salad and smile.

We eat in comfortable companionship as I ask him about his day and how the funding for the center is going.

"No progress to report, but I'm not giving up."

"I'm glad." I take a big bite of the mac and cheese. It doesn't taste like I think it should, but that's probably from using goat milk instead of cow. I had to improvise when I realized I bought the wrong jug at the store the other day.

As the candles burn down and we finish our dinner, I stand and lead him to the bedroom. "Once we enter this room, I am in control. You will call me Mistress and do as I say, no questions. Understood?"

He nods.

"Are you ready for this?" I don't want to break my boyfriend just for some kink, but I'm revved up and anxious to do this, so I hope he says yes, and I hope I believe him, because if I don't, we can't do it. That's always been my rule.

"Yes, Vi, I'm ready for this."

I believe him. "Go into the room and wait for me. I'll be there shortly."

While he waits, I change into my Dom uniform. Spiked red heels. Black leather mini-skirt and a black lace corset. And I bring the whip.

His eyes get big when I come in, and so does his cock. So far, so good.

Butterflies dance in my stomach as I tell him to take off his clothes and then handcuff him to the bed. When I blindfold him, he smiles. "Turnabout's fair play," he says.

I gently lash his thigh with the leather whip. "Mistress," I remind him.

"Yes, Mistress."

"Good boy."

I straddle him and enjoy the feeling of being in control again. Though my mind flicks back to the nights he took me hard and fast, and I know he's changed me. I'll never be 'just' the Dom again.

And I realize I'm okay with that.

I tease him with feathers and whips, with teeth and tongue, tantalizing his senses as I take control of his body and make him beg for more.

It's exhilarating.

His cock is hard and throbbing when I finally mount him. I'm still wearing my black leather skirt, but it's more of a belt now, and there's nothing under it. I tease his tip with my wet pussy, taking him in just a bit, then pulling off, over and over, as he moans and tries to thrust his hips for more. I whip him again, lightly, but with a sting. "I'll give you more when I decide."

When he settles down, I drop my hips fully onto his cock, taking his shaft entirely. He fills me, stretches me, and I want more, but I want to torture him too. So I pull off and tease the tip again. I take off my corset and let my nipples fall against his lips. He's still blindfolded, but I can tell he's enjoying the extra play.

When neither of us can take it anymore, I give us both everything. Riding him hard and fast. Deeply, completely, until we both come.

I'm about to start it again, teasing, torturing, arousing him until he's hard once more, when my stomach rolls over, and I realize the butterflies I've been feeling aren't from nerves.

"Oh my God, I have to go!"

I run into the bathroom and can't even close the door before I'm vomiting all over the floor, the sink and finally into the toilet. I'm dying. Absolutely dying. Someone tried to kill me, and now I'm dying.

"Vi? You okay? What's going on?"

I can't talk yet, my stomach is still heaving everything I've ever eaten since I was two. When I catch a breath, I scream at him. "Sick. So sick. Oh God!"

What happened? How can I be sick so suddenly? I don't know and can't really think because now my stomach is out of food but is finding some kind of green sludge from the pits of despair and vomiting that up. I've never vomited this much. Ever.

"Vi! Vi? I think I'm getting sick too. Vi, you have to come release me."

Oh no. I can't leave him stuck to the bed. I try to move from the toilet, but another wave hits me, and I lean over, heaving until it hurts. "I'm trying, Lach. But I can't stop throwing up."

"Vi. I'm going to be sick."

And then I hear him vomit. All over my bed.

I crawl through my own sick to reach him, throwing up again on the floor. I scramble for the key to the handcuffs and get them off his wrists. He pulls the blindfold off and runs to the bathroom and vomits into the toilet. We are now both covered in each other's vomit.

It feels like hours before we're both done. We can't move and no longer care we are covered in sick.

We lean against the sink together, both of us slumped on the bathroom floor, when Lach starts to laugh.

I can't help but join in, because what else can you do but laugh or cry? And Lach chooses laughter, and I love that about him.

"Is this how it usually went with your clients?"

I laugh harder, my stomach cramping from it all. "Usually less vomit," I tell him. "But not always."

He chuckles. "Oh, Vi, honey…"

"Yes?"

"You're never allowed to cook."