Victorious (16 page)

“You’re not happy about it?”

“It just feels weird to take all that money for not doing my job.”

“Natalie, what Mrs. Heffernan did to you was wrong. It was borderline illegal, and the board knows that. If we chose to sue them, they could potentially be on the hook for millions. Buying out your contract is more than fair. In fact, it was the very least they could do.”

“The upside is I’ll be able to pay off my student loans myself, which is important to me.”

“Ummm, about that…”

She spins in her seat to look at me, disturbing Fluff, who lets out a grunt of annoyance. “What?”

“I, um… You’re going to be mad.”

“Did you pay off my loans?”

“I, well… Yes, I did.”

“Flynn! I told you I didn’t want you to do that!”

“I know, honey, and I only did it so you wouldn’t worry about it. You lost your job. How were you going to make the payments?”

“I would’ve figured something out. Eventually.”

“In the meantime, you would’ve missed payments and your credit would be affected. I didn’t want that for you.”

“So you went behind my back and did something I specifically asked you
not
to do?”

“I took care of my wife.”

“I agreed to be submissive to you in the bedroom, but
only
in the bedroom.”

“You think that’s what this is? Me dominating you?”

“That’s how it seems to me.”

“Well, it’s not. It’s me taking care of you.”

“It’s you doing something I told you
not
to do.”

“Put yourself in my place, Nat. If I’m stressing out about something you can easily fix, what would you do?”

“I’d respect your wishes.”

“Well, sorry to be such a bastard that I couldn’t stand to see you upset about something I could fix for you with a phone call.”

“I’m going to reimburse you.”

“No, you’re not.”

“
Yes
, I am!”

“If you think I’m going to take your money, you’re crazy.”

“But I’m expected to take yours like the dutiful little wife?”

“Now you’re just trying to piss me off.”

“Good, then we’re both pissed off.”

As much as I wish I hadn’t made her mad, I love that she feels free to say anything she wants to me. I love that she’s mad at me. I’m far more accustomed to women who go out of their way to please me rather than challenge me and risk losing my affection. None of them ever figured out that all I really wanted was for them to be
real
with me. With Natalie, it’s as real as it gets. And she’s furious with me. I can tell by the rigid set to her shoulders as she stares out the passenger-side window.

I reach for her hand. “I’m sorry, Nat.”

She pulls her hand free. “No, you’re not.”

She’s so cute when she’s pissed. “I’m honestly sorry that I did something you told me not to do and that it upset you.”

“Save it. You’re just sorry you got caught.”

I decide this would be the perfect time to send the text I’ve drafted. I press Send and wait for the chime of her phone.

She pulls it from her pocket, reads the text and then looks at me, incredulous. “Are you
for real
right now?”

“As real as it gets. You know how to say no. If I don’t hear the word, I expect you to follow my instructions.” I lean in close so I can see her green eyes, so different from what I’m used to but still my Nat. “To. The. Letter.”

She shakes her head and resumes giving me the cold shoulder as she stares out the window. In this case, silence is golden. She doesn’t say the word that would put a stop to my plans before they get started.

I flatten my palm over my coat pocket, where I’ve zipped the items I brought from my stash in New York. She has no idea what she’s in for on this flight.

He’s crazy if he thinks I’m going to have sex with him after finding out he went against my wishes and paid off my loans. I’m appreciative of his desire to care for me and take away my worries. He’s incredibly generous and thoughtful. But it worries me that he thinks it’s okay to do something I specifically asked him
not
to do—without even talking to me about it first.

That’s a dangerous precedent, even more so than his propensity for buying me extravagant gifts. I have to make him understand that I won’t put up with him disregarding my wishes on important matters. That’s not the kind of marriage I want to have. We’re capable of better than that.

I want two pillows propped under your hips so your luscious ass is the first thing I see when I walk in the door. Present that ass to me to do with as I please.

I want to growl from the frustration that accompanies the slow drumbeat of desire that has me shifting in my seat. He knows exactly what he’s doing to me with that text, which he obviously prepared in advance and then sent while we were in the middle of an argument. Does he think that scrambling my brain with sex will make me forget I’m annoyed with him?

Well, his plan is working, because rather than thinking about how angry I am, I’m thinking about my ass presented to him as his own personal plaything. I recall the times he’s touched me there before and how much I loved it. I admit to being intensely curious about what he has planned.

We don’t say another word to each other as we cross the bridge into New Jersey and arrive at the airport a short time later. We’re loaded onto the plane with the usual efficiency, and greeted by yet another flight attendant who tries to pretend she’s not freaking out that Flynn Godfrey is on her plane.

With Fluff on my lap, I settle into the seat by the window so I can continue to watch the world go by while trying to figure out what to do about my current dilemma. Do I give him what he wants even after he directly went against my wishes? If I give in to him now, will that be rolling over? Or can I separate the sex from the larger life issue that now stands between us?

I’m extremely confused but also extremely turned on by the demand he has made of me via text message.
 

The flight attendant offers drinks, and Flynn requests Bloody Marys for both of us. I’ve never had one, but I’m willing to try one if it means I don’t have to speak to him to tell him I don’t want it. I want him to admit he was wrong to pay off those loans without talking to me about it first. After the drinks are served, the attendant tells us she’ll be back after takeoff to check on us.

I have to admit I like the taste of the spicy drink as well as the heat of the liquor as it travels through my veins.
 

As the plane races down the runway and soars into the sky, my heart begins to thud in my chest, again like a bass drumbeat that echoes in my ears and pulses in my throat. Every pleasure point in my body is on full alert, beating in sync with the drum. With the plane gaining altitude by the second, I’m running out of time. Any minute now, the seat belt sign will go off and I’ll have to either use my safe word or follow his orders.

The chime of the seat belt sign turning off ricochets through the cabin like a gunshot, startling me even though I knew it was imminent.

“Good afternoon from the cockpit, Mr. and Mrs. Godfrey, and welcome aboard. You’re now free to move around the cabin. We expect a relatively smooth ride but ask you to use caution as unexpected turbulence is always a possibility. For now, sit back, relax and enjoy our five-hour flight to Los Angeles.”

Decision time. As if there’d ever been a decision to make. I will submit to him sexually, but I’ll not be submissive in the rest of our life. If he won’t take my money, I’ll find a way to reimburse him the same way he went about paying off the loans in the first place—behind his back.

I can feel Flynn’s eyes on me, waiting to see what I’ll do.

I unbuckle my seat belt and move carefully to settle Fluff’s sleeping body in my seat. Without so much as a glance at my husband, I make my way to the back of the plane to follow his orders. I use the bathroom to freshen up before removing my clothes and crawling onto the bed, reaching for the pillows to position them under my hips.
 

Part of me can’t believe I’m doing this. A month ago, I was untouched by any man other than the one who attacked me so long ago. Now here I am, preparing to offer my ass to my husband. It’s surreal, to say the least.

I lean over the pillows, my legs parted to hold me up, my head resting against my forearms. I try not to think about what he’ll see when he comes into the room. Once again, the position coupled with the anticipation has the intended effect on me. My entire body is humming with desire.

Just as I’m beginning to wonder if he’ll make me wait as long as he did last night, the door opens.

My skin prickles as I imagine him looking at me laid out for him this way. I wonder what he’s thinking, if he’s pleased with what he sees. The door closes, and the snick of the lock sliding into place makes my heart pound. It’s the not knowing, the wondering, the speculating, the desperate desire that make me crazy. It’s a heady combination, as he well knows.

He doesn’t say a word, and if he’s doing anything, I can’t tell because he’s doing it in utter silence. The only sound is that of the low hum of the plane engines. My legs begin to tremble from the effort to hold myself up and open to his perusal. I
know
he’s looking. I can
feel
his eyes on me, which somehow makes this hotter than the hottest sex we’ve ever had, and he hasn’t even touched me yet.
 

The scrape of his zipper breaks the silence and ramps up my already rapid heartbeat. Again the bass drumbeat thumps through me, awakening every part of my body in preparation for him.

By the time I feel air pass over me as he approaches, I’m ready to weep from the relief. Waiting for him to touch me, I break out in goose bumps all over.
 

My nipples are so tight, they ache, as does my clit, which throbs in time with the drumbeat. Even the soles of my feet are in on this, vibrating and tingling.
 

Oh
God
. Is that his tongue on my ass?
Yes!
Oh my God… I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I can’t do anything but feel as he traces a path up one side and down the other. He touches me with nothing other than his tongue, which is more than enough to make me whimper from the need for more. I don’t even know what I need. I just need
more
.
 

Then his hands are on me, holding me open to his tongue. I can’t believe he is actually licking me
there
. And holy shit does it feel amazing. His tongue is everywhere, circling, delving, coaxing. I’m shaking like a tree in a storm, on the verge of begging him to do anything he can think of to me, as long as it slakes the desperate ache.
 

And then he’s gone, leaving me hanging on the precipice of something huge. I want to cry from the frustration, from being left unfulfilled and needy. I hear the click of a cap opening and the sound of something liquid. He knew what he was doing by putting me in this position so I won’t know what to expect next.
 

His finger presses against my back entrance, insistent and determined to breach the tight muscles.

My impulse is to fight back, to deny him, but he doesn’t take even a silent no for an answer. His finger slides in as far as it can go as my muscles tighten around it. Like the other times we’ve done this, I can’t deny the dark, forbidden thrill of it. Before him, before us, I wouldn’t have thought I could enjoy being touched or penetrated there. But enjoy is too tame a word for how it feels to allow him to take me there, to welcome it, to crave it.
 

He withdraws his finger, and I want to cry out from the loss, but I maintain my silence. Unless he speaks directly to me, I’m not to question him.
 

He’s back again, this time with two fingers, and the fit is decidedly tighter, less comfortable. The bite of pain causes my clit to throb, which surprises me. How can pain and pleasure coexist?
 

He strokes his fingers in and out.

I widen my legs and move my ass in time with his strokes. I begin to realize I could come from this and have to remind myself I’m not allowed to.
 

“Talk to me, Nat. How does it feel?”

“I’m not talking to you.”