The Playboy's Proposition (25 page)
But I said nothing. It was more than enough to know that
Kamun was appeased, wouldn’t worry about what I might say about him in the
future. Wouldn’t be a danger to me again.
When Michael ended the call, I pushed his shirt off my
shoulders, and when he looked at my bare breasts, I quickly covered them back
up by finding a clean spot on his shirt and blowing my nose loud and long all
over the thing.
Michael shook his head in a half-amused, “oh, the things I
have to put up with,” kind of way. I dropped the shirt onto the floor and slid
out of the bed, right past him as he tried to slide into it.
I stood up and he watched me expectantly. I turned and
headed to the door.
He asked, “What are you doing?”
I answered, “I’m hungry.” And I sailed out the door.
Soon, I heard him coming up behind me.
He said, “We can eat later. Come back to bed.”
I didn’t rush, only said, “No, I’m hungry now.”
And I was, too. I was starving, hadn’t eaten anything since
that morning, and it was late now. I momentarily flashed on telling him that I
was hungry before he dragged me into the dungeon. My only thought about that
was, “Bastard.”
I headed into the den where we had held our little party
earlier, and dug around in the mini bar, knowing I had seen some sandwiches in
there. I found one, ripped open the plastic and took a big bite. I chewed fast,
swallowed faster. Ah, the bliss of food in my belly. I took another big bite
then headed out again, into the hall, past a bemused-looking Michael.
I went toward the front door, laid my sandwich down on the
table in the entry way, then pulled out my clothes and started getting dressed.
Michael had been trailing along behind me, asking, “What are
you doing?” and “Where are you going?”
I couldn’t answer because my mouth was full of sandwich, and
it’s not polite to speak when your mouth is full. Politeness is another very
important part of being a good sub.
Now that he saw me pulling on my clothes, he asked again,
“What are you doing?”
I swallowed and said, “Getting dressed.”
“Obviously. What the hell’s going on?”
I pulled up my jeans and buttoned the top. “I’m going home.”
“Why are you acting so strange? Stay. Talk to me. Tell me
what’s going on.”
I hitched myself into my bra and pulled on my shirt. I said,
“You think about it for a second and you’ll figure it out.”
“Well I’m not figuring it out. What the hell?”
I hopped around a bit, getting on my shoes. “Our five nights
are over, Michael. We’re done. Through. Finished.”
Saying that, with certain finality ... it didn’t hurt at
all. No pain in the gut. No regret.
I knew then that I had never really loved Michael. I had
simply wanted to love him.
No broken heart here. That was a relief.
He reached for my arm, but I stepped out of the way. He
said, “I told you tonight that I wanted more. Didn’t I? If not, I’m telling you
now. Don’t go. Stay here with me. Call your friends, tell them you’re not going
on vacation with them. Spend the week with me. I had planned all along that
that’s what would happen.”
I gathered up my purse and my sandwich. Took another bite
and studied him while I chewed.
It was funny how someone can be so handsome one minute and
then suddenly so ... so ... not.
I swallowed my bite, then said, “You didn’t actually say
that you wanted more, but I will say that you implied it. I understood that you
wanted more.”
I opened the door and breezed into the hall, Michael right
behind me.
He said, “Then I don’t see what the problem is here. Come
on. Talk to me. Quit acting so strangely.”
I said, “The problem here is that you never asked me if I
wanted more. You know, there are two people in a relationship. Or whatever the
thing is that we had.”
He let out a long and low, “Ohhh,” as if he had me all
figured out now. He grabbed my arm.
I turned on him like I’d scratch his eyes out, and said,
“Let ... me ... go.”
He pretended like he didn’t see the intent in my face, but
he dropped my arm immediately and said, “I’m sorry. I know you’re touchy right
now. Listen, I should have asked what you wanted. I just thought, believed, I
mean I know that you want me the way I want you.”
I was at the elevator now, and I pushed the button.
I sighed.
Elevators were so annoying when you were trying to leave
somebody. All the waiting around, not knowing when it will arrive, being unable
to properly time a parting shot.
I sighed again.
I knew that I shouldn’t be toying with Michael the way that
I was, knew it was small and mean of me, to not just tell him straight out what
was going on, simply get it over with.
But he had been such a bastard, and I was so, so angry at
so, so many things he had done, and so many things he hadn’t done but should
have. It was difficult not to make him scamper for a few minutes.
Oh well. I tore off another bite of sandwich, leaving
Michael to stew a while longer, kind of wishing he’d try his good old seduction
approach on me. It would be fun to cut him off in the middle of his favorite
attack.
I stared at the closed elevator doors and chewed.
Michael said, “Dammit, Nonnie. Stop this crap right now. I
want you to turn around and go back into my apartment. Then we’ll talk this
out. Now. Go.”
Oh, not the seduction route. The Dom route. Got it.
Well, guess I’d be failing my sub test after all. Because if
there was one thing I wasn’t capable of anymore, it was fucking obedience.
I turned to him and said, “No.”
He looked surprised, but not overwhelmed by my refusal. He
threw his hands up and said, “Fine. Go do whatever it is you’re going to do.
Get some sleep. I’ll call tomorrow. Maybe I could come visit you on your trip.
Work this out.”
I thought, well that was unexpected. Damn.
I guessed I was finally just going to have to say it.
I looked at him and said, “Michael, I’ve enjoyed my time
with you ... uh ... a lot of it anyway. But it’s over now. I’m done with this.
Too many mistakes, too many misunderstandings.”
He ran a hand through his long hair, pushed it back behind
his ears, a common gesture that I used to enjoy. “I know it was bad tonight.
I’m sorry. But don’t let it ruin everything we have.”
I shook my head.
He said, “Okay. I get it. You need some time. I’ll back
off.”
“I don’t need time. I mean it. It’s over. Done. I don’t want
to see you anymore.”
Where the hell was the elevator?
He said, “You feel that way right now, but when you’ve had a
chance to cool down, see this clearly.”
I’d had enough. I said, “I see it clearly already, for the
first time, I think. We’re not right for each other. That’s all there is to it.
I wish you the best in the future, and I’m sure you’ll find someone who will
suit you way better than I ever could.”
He said, “Don’t give me the ‘it’s not you, it’s me,’ crap.
I’m not buying it.”
I shrugged. “Then what will you buy? What do I have to say
to convince you we’re through? I’ll gladly say it. Tell me. What is it?”
For once, he had nothing to say.
And the blessed elevator finally arrived.
I walked into the elevator, pressed the button for the first
floor, thinking “don’t follow me, don’t follow me.” I turned around.
He hadn’t followed me.
He just looked at me and gave me a little smile. Then he
said, “You’ll feel differently later. When you start to miss what I can give
you, that other men can’t.”
I stared at him, unmoved by his narcissism.
I said, “Fuck you.”
Such coarse language from a good sub.
Then the elevator doors slid shut.
As I drove home, so many things filtered through my
thoughts, and most of them were memories of my times with Michael. I needed to
sort through it all. Look at it with fresh eyes. Catalogue the mistakes. Try to
figure out why it took me so long to see the truth.
So much evidence that I had brushed aside.
Then much to my chagrin, I thought of Gibson Reeves, and the
things he said to me the previous night at the summer ball. I remembered it all
perfectly well.
Gibson told me that Michael was irresponsible.
That Michael was failing in his duty to protect me.
That Michael should be seeing to my safety and needs before
his own.
True. All of it. Tonight. And other nights, too.
Then there was the most damning point that Gibson made:
Michael was exploiting my inexperience, my ignorance, for his own personal
gain.
Oh God. Gibson had been right about everything. All of it.
But I hadn’t listened to him because I was too wrapped up in thinking about how
heartless Gibson had been to Michael and his family. And too wrapped up in my own
guilt over using Michael’s enemy for revenge.
I shuddered to think of what might have happened to me
tonight. How much worse it could have gone if I hadn’t fought back.
Hey, I thought. There was something that Gibson Reeves had
been wrong about. I definitely had proven tonight that I didn’t need anybody to
teach me how to say “no.”
And I had protected my own self tonight, in more ways than
one. I had fought off a full-grown man and left him bleeding. Good for me.
I felt a much-needed surge of pride in myself.
I wanted to shake off all the bad stuff. I didn’t need more
blame and regret in my life.
I had a vacation to go on, with three fun friends, and I’d
be single and free, wouldn’t be spending it pining away for some man who only
wanted to use me. Use me, like my ex-husband had, except in different ways.
Was it true, that we’re destined to repeat the same mistakes
over and over again?
But then, wasn’t there another part to that, the part that
said we’d repeat those mistake until we finally got things right?
Well then, there was hope.
I wouldn’t let all of this crap ruin my trip for me.
Wouldn’t let Michael steal my pleasure again. I’d focus on fun. Be strong and
celebrate my escape. Use some time to figure out what had gone wrong.
And then I’d move on.
And the next time, I’d get it right.
Coming Soon:
His Name Is Sir
The
Power to Please, Book 3
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From a young age, Deena Ward has believed she was meant to
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She lives in the midwest with her partner and a rowdy, plump
beagle.
The Playboy’s
Proposition, Book 2 of
The Power to Please
Copyright © 2013 Deena Ward
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Cover Image Copyright © Mayer George 2013, used under
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This e-book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places
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This book contains scenes of a graphic, sexual nature and
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