The_Submissive - Tara Sue Me (25 page)

Nathaniel cooked dinner. Usually when he cooked, I stayed in the living room or library, but I decided to sit in the kitchen with him that night. So, he cooked while I sat at the table and drank a glass of red wine. Enjoying the view, if you will.

I think he was cooking a marinara. At least, I suspected that was why he had the large label-less can out. He took out the can opener and I got up to peek over his shoulder.

“Just checking,” I said.

He smiled and hummed as the can opened. With a tentative finger, he lifted the lid. We both held our breath.

“Tomatoes,” we said in unison.

“Drat,” I said. “I was hoping for pickled cow tongue or some incriminating body parts.”

“Rather anticlimactic, don’t you think?” he asked, lifting a tomato out with a fork.

“No. It’s better to know.”

“You’re right, and it’s going to make us a delicious supper.”

He dumped the tomatoes into a sauté pan that already contained onions and garlic.

“Smells good,” I said, standing on my tiptoes to look over his shoulder. I took a big whiff as I did. Not so much to smell dinner, but to smell Nathaniel. Light musk and a hint of cedar. Yum.

“Go sit down,” he said. “I’d like to have one hot meal today.”

“Breakfast was hot,” I protested. “And lunch was hot. At least the part before lunch was hot.”

“Abigail.”

“I’m sitting, I’m sitting,” I said, walking toward the table.

I sat down and took a sip of wine. “You know, you had a breakthrough today,” I said.

His shoulders hitched slightly. “What was that?”

“You opened one of your label-less cans. I think that calls for a celebration.”

He relaxed. “What did you have in mind?”

“Naked picnic in the library?”

“That’s your idea of a celebration?” he asked, setting a large pot of water to boil.

“I should have made bread for dinner,” I said.

“You’ve done quite enough for one day.”

I raised an eyebrow and tried not to giggle. “Yes, it is my idea of a celebration.”

“Okay.” He sighed, as if he were agreeing to something horrid. “Naked picnic in the library. Thirty minutes.”

“I’ll go set up,” I said, getting up from the table.

“Extra blankets are in the linen closet,” he called over his shoulder.

Twenty minutes later, I’d set out several blankets and started a fire in the library fireplace. Four plump pillows completed my impromptu picnic set-up.

I checked the clock. Ten minutes to spare. I stripped and piled my clothes on one of the chairs.

Nathaniel came in carrying dinner on a large tray. He was already undressed.

“Do you need any help?” I asked, feasting on the sight of him.

“No. I’m fine. Let me set this down and I’ll get our drinks. More wine?”

“Please.”

He returned with two wineglasses and a bottle of red wine. I wondered if he had a wine cellar. Surely he did. Might have to check that out later.

The marinara was delicious. Of course, I expected nothing less from Nathaniel.

“This is superb,” I said after a few bites. “My compliments to the chef.”

“To label-less cans,” he said, lifting a forkful of pasta.

“To label-less cans,” I said. I went to twirl more pasta, but when I lifted my fork I did it too fast and
some sauce flew off. And landed on Nathaniel’s…uh…you know.

He looked down in disbelief. “You got marinara on my cock.”

“Oops.”

“Get. It. Off.”

I was fairly certain he wasn’t wearing a sign. I leaned over and took the plate from him. “Lay back.”

“Abigail.”

“You want me to use a napkin?” I pushed down on his shoulders.

He didn’t answer, so I took that as a “no.” He put his head on one of the pillows and I ran my hands down his chest.

“The marinara, Abigail,” he said.

My fingers breezed across his nipples. “I’m getting there.”

“Get there. Faster.”

I licked down his chest. Yum. He tasted good all over. I took a nibble of his lower belly and he gasped in response. Mmmm. Nathaniel was much better than marinara. Even marinara made with label-less cans.

I dipped lower, blowing across the tip of his cock. He twitched. Ahh, yes, there it was.
Hello, marinara. Sorry I was so clumsy.

Okay, that was a lie. There wasn’t a sorry bone in my body.

I cleaned the sauce off with one lick. But like I said,
he tasted good all over. So until he told me to stop, I decided to stay right where I was. I rolled the tip of him around my mouth, teasing. Occasionally, I would deep throat and take him all the way in, but for the most part, I just played with him. I used my hands, stroking him, holding his cock like it was a lollipop, licking the very tip. A drop or two leaked out and I sucked it right off.

He drew a deep breath in through his teeth. “Fuck.”

“I can stop,” I said, but I wasn’t sure I could.

“Hell, no. Swing those legs up here. I want to taste that sweet pussy.”

I shifted my body, moving us into a sixty-nine position.

He wrapped his arms around my thighs, locking me to him. He wiggled his tongue inside me and gave a lick, ending at my clit.

“Mmmmm,” he said. “Sweeter than the finest wine.” He licked again. “And I’m going to drink from you until there’s not a drop left.”

I took his whole cock in my mouth—two could play that game—and sucked him hard.

He started a rhythm, matching his licks and nibbles to mine. I took him deep in my throat and he rammed his tongue inside me. My teeth scraped his length and his grazed my clit.

My hips started moving of their own will, and before too long he was thrusting into my mouth.

We rolled to our sides, kept the rhythm going, getting more leverage as he fucked my face with his cock and fucked my pussy with his tongue.

He added his fingers, thrusting three up inside me while his tongue moved to my clit. I cupped his balls and ran a finger from his sac to his ass. His cock twitched in my mouth and he thrust harder. Doubled the tempo with his fingers.

As his cock hit the back of my throat, he sucked my clit into his mouth. Our movements became more intense and we both hovered on the edge.

My lower body started to tingle and I moved my head to meet his thrusts, wanting him to come with me. I groaned. I couldn’t help it. It felt so intense, having him in
my
mouth while
his
mouth worked me. I came, my body shattering. He bit my clit and I came again as he thrust into my mouth, releasing in several strong streams. I swallowed frantically, not wanting a drop to escape.

He pulled me up his chest and I tucked my head under his neck.

“Dinner’s cold,” I said, snuggling into his arms.

“Screw dinner.”

We eventually got back to eating—propped up on pillows, lazy and relaxed.

I took a bite of cold pasta. It wasn’t so bad. “How long have you been a dom?”

He swirled his own pasta. “Nearly ten years.”

“Have you had a lot of subs?”

“I suppose that depends on your definition of ‘a lot.’”

I rolled my eyes. “You know what I mean.”

He sat his fork down. “I don’t mind having this conversation, Abigail. This is your library. But keep in mind that just because you ask a question, it doesn’t mean I’ll answer it.”

I swallowed the bite of pasta in my mouth. “Fair enough.”

“Then ask away.”

“Have you ever been a sub?”

He nodded. “Yes. But not for any extended period of time, only for a scene or two.”

Okay, that was interesting. I’d put that aside for later. “Have you ever had a sub use her safe word before?”

He watched me carefully as he answered. “No.”

“Never?”

“Never, Abigail.”

I looked down at the plate.

“Look at me,” he said, and all traces of weekday Nathaniel were gone. I was talking with Dom Nathaniel. “I know how new you are to this, and I ask you, have I ever come close to pushing you beyond what you could handle?”

“No,” I said honestly.

“Have I been gentle and patient and caring?” he asked. “Anticipated your
every
need?”

“Yes.”

“Do you not think I would have been gentle and patient and caring with my past subs? Anticipated their
every
need?”

Of course he would have. “Oh.”

“I am starting you out slowly, because I see this as a long-term relationship, but there are so many things we can do together.” He ran a finger down my arm. “So many things your body is capable of that you don’t even know yet. And just as you have to learn to trust me, I have to learn your body.”

I might as well have rolled over and died right there. I was done.

“I have to learn your limits, so I’m working you slowly. But there are many, many areas we have yet to explore.” His touch grew rougher. “And I want to explore them all.” His hand dropped. “Does that answer your question?”

“Yes,” I whispered, wanting to explore them all as well.

“Any other questions?”

“If your other subs didn’t use their safe word, how did the relationships end?”

“They ended as any relationship ends. We grew apart and went our separate ways.”

Okay, that made sense. “Have you ever had a
romantic relationship with a woman who wasn’t your sub?”

He shifted a bit. “Yes.”

“How did that go?” I asked, wondering if I was walking into Melanie territory.

“You’re here now.” He cocked an eyebrow at me. “Was that a rhetorical question?”

Obviously, it hadn’t gone well. But I just couldn’t let it go. “Melanie?”

“What did Elaina tell you?” he asked instead of answering.

Caught. “That Melanie wasn’t your submissive.”

He sighed. “I would prefer my past relationships remain in the past. What Melanie and I did or did not do has no bearing on you and me.”

I picked at the uneaten pasta on my plate, still not sure I felt any better about Melanie.

“Abigail,” he said and I looked up to meet his eyes. “If I wanted to be with Melanie, I would be with Melanie. I’m here with you.”

My eyes roamed his fabulous body. “Did you ever have a naked picnic with Melanie?”

He smiled. “No, never.”

I’m not sure why that made me feel better, but it did.

CHAPTER
TWENTY-NINE

I woke on Wednesday with the crazy notion I should look out the window. I felt like an idiot, checking to make sure there was still snow outside, but I did it anyway. I pushed back the curtains and, sure enough, there was the snow. Maybe a bit less than the day before, but still there. Still not melted enough for me to risk going home.

I let the curtain fall back into place. I wouldn’t be going home today. Tomorrow? Maybe, but what was the point if I’d just be returning on Friday? I might as well stay at his place for the rest of the week. Martha had texted to tell me the library wouldn’t be reopening until Monday anyway.

I really didn’t think Nathaniel would mind me staying, but decided to ask later and instead headed off to get breakfast started. I took a quick shower and skipped down the stairs. Once the coffee was bubbling in the coffee maker, I focused my attention on the bacon and eggs. The frying pan heated up and I did a quick two-step around the kitchen to the songs inside my head.