The Dominant (17 page)

On Wednesday when I arrived at the library, Abby stood at the front desk, but this time she faced the door. Dare I hope she
waited for me?

“Good afternoon,” I said.

“Good afternoon, sir,” she said with a seductive grin.

Damn. Just hearing her call me
sir
made me hard.

“Is this still a good time?” I didn’t want to assume anything. Wednesdays were outside of our original agreement, and I wanted
her to feel free to turn me down. I hoped beyond hope she wouldn’t turn me down, but the choice was still hers.

“One thirty.” She pointed to the computer screen. “Says so right here.”

I looked deep into her eyes, unable and unwilling to hide what I felt, but certain it didn’t come across. “Will you accompany
me to the Rare Books Collection?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

I held out my hand. She took it and walked around the desk to stand before me. I stood for just a second, staring at her.

She wore a long-sleeved dress today. It hugged her curves, showing the outline of her breasts, the swell of her hips.

“You look very nice,” I said.

She smiled at the compliment. “Thank you.”

It felt odd. Standing there, making normal everyday conversation
while we both knew where we were headed. What we would be doing in just a few minutes.

I looked around for Martha. She stood by the newly released biographies.

“I’ve got you covered, Abby,” she said, waving from her post. “You go on.”

Abby dropped my hand. “Follow me.”

Like I could do anything else.

We walked up the stairs, Abby leading the way. When we reached the room, she opened the door and entered first. I closed and
locked the door behind us. She waited.

“Take your shoes off,” I said.

She obeyed, slipping off one shoe and then the other. Fuck. Even Abby taking off her shoes was sexy. She reached down and,
with one finger, slipped off the tiny socks that had been hidden by her shoes. I swallowed a moan. Abby taking off her socks
was even hotter.

“Turn around,” I said, and she turned to face the table from last week. I came up behind her and placed my hands on her shoulders,
feeling how she trembled in anticipation. “To the table,” I said, gently pushing her.

She walked forward until she stood before the table. I pressed up against her, making sure she felt my erection.

I bent her over, running my hands down her arms as she complied. I pushed her to her elbows and pressed my cock harder against
her.

“I like this dress you’re wearing,” I said, stepping back and running my fingers across her backside. “Just a simple little
piece of fabric between us.”

She pushed back against me and I grinned.

Naughty
.

“Know what else?” I asked, slipping my hands under the hem of her skirt and lifting it up, exposing the pale pink panties
underneath.
I slid them down her legs. “We don’t need to use a condom anymore.”

My middle finger skimmed her entrance. She was already aroused. “I’ll be able to feel everything when I slide into you.” I
unbuckled my pants and pushed them down. With one step, I pressed against her again. “And you’ll feel all of me.”

She moaned.

“You like that, don’t you, Abigail?”

“Yes, sir. Please.”

I pushed two fingers into her, testing her arousal again. “Have you thought about me all day? Imagined me doing this to you?”

She gasped and nodded.

I pumped my fingers slowly. “Tell me. Tell me with words.”

“I’ve thought about you all day, sir. Imagined what you would do.”

“While you were supposed to be working?” I asked in mock surprise, pulling my fingers out.

“Yes, sir.”

I spanked her once. “Shame on you.” I spanked her again and she moaned. “You’re such a naughty girl, Abigail.” I spanked her
one last time and leaned over her back to whisper in her ear, “Do you know what happens after naughty girls get spanked?”

“No, sir.”

I gave her ass another slap. “They get fucked.”

She mumbled something under her breath.

“Reach out, grab the end of the table, and brace yourself.” I watched as she wrapped her fingers around table’s edge. “You
have no idea how fucking hot you look like this.”

I took my cock in one hand and teased her, pressing it against her, but never going further. She whimpered. With one smooth
stroke, I slid into her and we both moaned.

It had never been like this. Never. With my previous subs, I had been fine with our weekend arrangements. Never before had
I felt the need to seek them out during the week. Why was everything so different with Abby? Why couldn’t I last from Sunday
afternoon to Friday night without seeing her? Without touching her?

I began thrusting, blocking everything out of my mind except her. The feel of her around me. The way her muscles clenched
each time I plunged into her.

Our bodies slammed against the table. We really shouldn’t have been doing this. It could get her in trouble. But I couldn’t
stop.

As I drove us both toward release, I knew. I could never get enough of her and I could never stop. I should have realized
it years ago when it became impossible to stay away from her. Recognized it when she walked into my office weeks ago. Admitted
it when I took her for the first time. I was in too deep. Her scent, her touch, her very essence. They were part of me.

Afterward, while we collected our clothes and straightened ourselves up, I brought up the subject of the car again.

“I’ve been giving some thought to what you said about the car issue.”

Fierce determination colored her face, but her voice was calm. “You have?”

I matched her calm tone, knowing I’d made the right decision. “I’ve decided not to press the issue.”

“What?”

“The idea made you extremely uncomfortable, and though part of me still thinks it’d be safer for you to drive, your mental
well-being is just as important to me. I won’t have you ever thinking you’re a whore.”

She looked shocked. “Thank you.”

“Give and take, Abigail, that’s what relationships are.” I turned so she wouldn’t she what the next admission cost me. “I
appreciate you being honest with me about your feelings. I have difficulties with that myself.”

She jumped from the table. “Maybe we can work on that together.”

A cold chill ran through me, but I shrugged it off and opened the door. “Maybe.”

I led her down the stairs to the main floor. “We need to be at the airport at four on Friday. If that time doesn’t work for
you, let me know. You have my number.”

“Four o’clock should be fine. I’ll call you if there’s a problem.”

We stood at the front door.

“Until then,” I said, lifting a hand to stroke her cheekbone.

Abby didn’t call, but Kyle’s mom did. His fever hadn’t gone down and, as a result, he wouldn’t be able to come to the Super
Bowl. I talked with him on Thursday afternoon, told him there was always next season and that if the Yankees made it to the
World Series, I’d do anything I could to get tickets.

On Friday at four, Abby met me at the terminal where I kept my jet. Her eyes swept over the plane.

“Good afternoon, Abigail. Thank you for making arrangements to leave work early.”

She took my hand and we walked up the stairs into the cabin. The pilot waved from the cockpit. “We’ll be ready for takeoff
shortly, Mr. West.”

I led her to our seats and she sat beside me, with her hands in her lap. Every once in a while, she glanced around the cabin
and then smoothed out nonexistent wrinkles from her pants.

Of course she felt anxious, I thought. All this was new to her. I needed to reassure her, let her know what to expect. After
all, we would be in public and with my family and close friends for most of the weekend.

We had a few minutes before the flight attendant entered the cabin.

Abby took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

“I want to discuss the weekend with you,” I said, and her eyes opened. They were full of gratitude. “Your collar will remain
on. You are still my submissive. But my aunt and Jackson have no need to know of our private life.”

I wondered if Felicia had told Jackson anything, but then decided she must not have. Her boyfriend’s cousin’s sex life probably
wasn’t too high on the list of topics Felicia wanted to discuss.

“Also, you will not address me as
Master
,
sir
, or
Mr. West
. If you try, you can avoid using my name at all.” I met her eyes. It was a delicate balance, living as we did, but it was
doable. “You will not call me by my given name unless it is unavoidable.”

She nodded.

“Now, today,” I said, unable to keep the excitement from my voice, “you’re going to learn about control.”

The flight attendant walked into the cabin. “Can I get you or Ms. King anything, Mr. West?”

“No. We’ll page you if we need anything.”

She smiled. “Very good, sir.”

“She’ll spend the remainder of the flight with the pilot unless we need her,” I said, unbuckling my seat belt and holding
out my hand. “Which we won’t. Come with me.”

I took her into the plane’s small bedroom and closed the door. “Remove your clothing and get on the bed.”

Abby had marked wax play on her checklist as “willing to try.” Wax play with real candles could become very intense, and I
didn’t want to move too fast by using my usual soy or paraffin candles. Instead, I’d ordered a special candle wax for her.
This one turned to body oil when heated. Its melting point was lower than either soy or paraffin. It would be the perfect
way to start her out.

As Abby undressed, I went over to the small dresser and
took out the battery-operated warming bowl I’d turned on earlier. The candle had melted nicely. I dipped a finger in the wax
to test the temperature. Just right. I slipped a blindfold into my pocket.

Abby lay naked on the bed. Perfect submission. Not a bit of hesitation. Even with a flight attendant within calling distance.

I set the bowl on the floor, then took Abby’s arms and stretched them out so they were spread wide. “Stay like this and I
won’t tie you up.”

I took the bowl and sat on the edge of the bed. “This is a battery-operated hot plate. Normally, I’d use a candle for this,
but the pilot won’t allow it. And rules are rules.”

And, most of the time, I followed the rules.

A tremor of excitement ran down her body and her nipples hardened. Her breath hitched. Just for a second.

Oh, yes. She wanted this.

I took the blindfold from my pocket. “This works better blindfolded.”

I secured the blindfold around her head, once more gauging her reaction, making sure she was willing to proceed. Her body
shook with anticipation. “Most people find the sensation of the heat very pleasurable.”

I tipped the bowl so a drop of wax landed on her upper arm. Just a drop, on a safe area of her body—the best place to test
both the wax and Abby’s response. She hissed, but it was a sound of pleasure. I rubbed the oil into her skin, explaining what
it was and how it worked.

As I tipped the bowl again, another drop fell on her opposite arm, and I gently rubbed it in, massaging her. Her skin felt
soft and supple under my fingers. I slowly dribbled more oil onto her, always gentle, always taking my time, making her body
more relaxed, slowly igniting the fire within, rewarding her trust with every pass of my hands. Showing her how absolute submission
would be rewarded. It was an important step in my plan for the evening—to work her body into an absolute frenzy so she would
enjoy what would happen after dinner.

I glanced at the clock. We had another ten minutes before she needed to get dressed. How would she react to this next part?
I dipped my finger into the bowl, collecting melted wax, and dropped it on her nipple. A half gasp, half moan escaped from
her.

I rubbed the oil in, palming her breast in the process. “Do you like the heat, Abigail?” I whispered in her ear, flicking
another drop on the other nipple.

She moaned.

Yes, she liked it. She craved it.

I tipped the bowl a little more, and a stream of wax dribbled over her breasts. Then I set it down and straddled her, massaging
her body with long, firm strokes. Up and over her breasts, along the line of her torso, rubbing the oil in thoroughly. Once
more doing my best to relax her, to build her anticipation.

“Control, Abigail. To whom do you belong? Answer me.”

“You,” she whispered.

“That’s right. And by the end of tonight, you’ll be begging for my cock.” If I did everything right, that was. “If you’re
good, I might just let you have it.”

I slipped off the bed to give her time to relax and to anticipate the night to come. I walked to one of the windows and looked
outside. We were approaching the Tampa airport—Abby needed to get dressed. My flight crew had stocked the plane’s refrigerator
before we took off. I took out a cold bottle of water and returned to the bedroom.

Abby was still on the bed, arms stretched out, eyes covered.

I sat beside her and ran a finger over her shoulder. “Abigail.”

She turned her head to me.

I untied the blindfold and she looked at me with her trusting
eyes. “It’s time for you to get dressed.” I took her arms, brought them close to her body. “I brought you some water.”

She licked her lips and I smiled.

We checked into our suite at the hotel and I showed Abby her room. We had an hour before we met everyone for dinner, plenty
of time for us to get ready.

She appeared in the suite’s living room later, dressed and looking absolutely beautiful.

“Very nice, but go back and remove the hose.” Her eyes questioned me. “I want you totally bare beneath that dress. I want
you to go out knowing I can lift your skirt and take you anytime I want.”

I wouldn’t, of course, not tonight. Not with my family with us, but Sunday . . . All bets were off in the football stadium.

She turned and went back to her room, returning moments later.