Waiting for Me (5 page)

Her lips were a soft tease on my earlobe. “I’m submissive.”

I reclaimed her lips, arms snaring her as I pulled her close. Everything else didn’t
matter. I’d taken many submissives to bed, but none of them moved me like Melissa.
None of them mattered when measured against her.

I knew our first time after she accepted her nature should be more structured, a gradual
introduction into Domination and submission, finding out her turn ons and turn offs;
her limits, buttons to press and expand her horizons. Control and rational thought
were no match for the caged lust had been roaring from the minute I met her. She said
the two words to set me free.

She tasted like salt and need and even though we had a perfectly good bed just inside,
we clawed at each other, tearing off shirts and shorts and underwear until we were
skin to skin. I clutched her ass with both hands, growling with pleasure when I dipped
my finger inside her and felt how wet she was for me. I watched her eyes roll back
in her head as I pumped in and out of her.

“L-L-Logan...” She said breathlessly, turning a two syllable name into four. “Take
me. Take right here.
Please
.”

Oh I planned to...even if she didn’t ask so nicely. I needed more of her...
all
of her. Every bulging inch of me demanded it. I brought one of her legs up, leaning
her back so I had a perfect line of sight of her beautiful skin; her pert little breasts,
and the quivering hole that dripped for me. I held my shaft, steering myself into
her warmth, letting go as I punched my entire, solid length inside her. She embraced
me, her moans driving me wild, loving the way our bodies responded to each other.
When she reached around and gripped my ass, pulling me closer, I knew it was a wrap.
I had her, she was mine, but she had me too. I was hers.

Her moans deepened, lengthened as her whole body shook from the inside out. She came
hard, clutching, groaning. She smiled up at me, her core still twitching, clutching.
I released, putting aside my reservations about getting tangled up in someone. I filled
her with my warmth, our desires mingling, sealing the deal.

There’d be no going back now.

When we stumbled inside the studio, sex drunk and laughing, I realized I didn’t want
to go back, even if I could.

****

I
stirred, the smell of bacon the first thing that loosened sleep’s grip on me. Feisty,
submissive,
and
cooks breakfast? She really was perfect.

I stretched my arms up above my head, smiling when conversation filtered up the stairs.
Last night after part two of fucking her until we were both spent, we talked. Not
about D/s, or Delilah James, or her ex, but about television shows. When I found out
she’d never seen
Lost
, I decreed we’d rectify that before she—

“Leaves.” The word was hollow, bitter on my tongue. She was only in Pleasure Point
for one more day. She would go back to Sacramento and shortly thereafter, I would
be headed back to San Francisco.

And then what?

I rose to my feet, pushing the question away. There was bacon to eat,
Lost
to watch, and Melissa’s lips to kiss. All the rest would work itself out.

I pulled a pair of boxers and pants on, marching to the bathroom. I glanced at my
cell on the counter. A missed call from my assistant, Jessica. Under normal circumstances
I’d check it without fail, but I was in no hurry to get back to the real world. I
splashed some water on my face, brushed my teeth. When I stepped back into the bedroom,
I noticed the volume had gone up exponentially. It wasn’t the television...it was
two voices, both female. Heated.

I frowned, pulling on a T-shirt. Definitely yelling.

When I opened the door and one of the voices sailed up the stairs, my stomach soured.
It was the voice made of nightmares, drenched in condescension. A voice, a person,
that had no business in my home.

Delilah James.

I rushed down the stairs to put a stop to the yelling match that had my labrador,
Lola, barking her head off.

Delilah was near the back door, wearing some sort of spandex number. Her red hair
fell in tumultuous waves around her face. She had strappy heels on her feet that added
an extra five inches to her statuesque frame. She towered above Melissa, glaring at
her like something possessed, but if she expected Melissa to grovel, she was sorely
disappointed. Melissa was clad in one of my shirts and from the way her body shuddered
as she gave as good as she got, she didn’t have much else on. Not that it mattered,
because she sized up Delilah she was about to slaughter her, whether she was rocking
a T-shirt or armor. When I saw the knife perched precariously close to Melissa on
the counter. I stormed into the room.

“What the hell is going on in here?” I thundered.

The room went quite. Even Lola stopped barking. Delilah gasped with delight and bounded
over to me, throwing her arms around my neck.

“Oh, Logan! I’ve –”

I gently, but firmly, unlocked her fingers. I had a choice word or two to say, to
yell, but being around Delilah was like walking on a minefield. One wrong move and
she’d blow us all up.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice tight as a whip.

“Oh, me?” She giggled like a schoolgirl, complete with twirling a lock of hair around
her pinky finger. It wasn’t cute. “I was just in the neighborhood.”

“I thought all the self-obsessed celebrities hung out in LA,” Melissa snapped.

I flicked my gazed over to Melissa with a weary sigh. While I appreciated her spunk,
I gave her a look that said ‘no more’. She rolled her eyes (I’d spank her for that
later), but she obeyed, walking over to the sink.

Delilah turned her emerald eyes up at me, a grin devouring half her face. “I’m actually
staying at the rental right up the street. Small world, huh?”

I didn’t return the smile. It was a small world, alright. Unbearably so. “Let’s go
in the living room.”

“But Misty is making us breakfast!” Delilah pouted.

“My name is Melissa, for the tenth time,” Melissa growled. “And if you think—”

“Just give us a second, babe.” My final word caught us all off guard. My cheeks warmed.
I wished I could say it was the balmy weather, but it was the heat of shock and surprise
that I’d uttered such a thing and the world didn’t end. Delilah looked like I’d just
slapped her across the face. Melissa’s cheeks matched mine, a quiet, secret smile
in her bright blue eyes. If my stalker ex-lover wasn’t standing right there, murdering
me with her gaze, I’d sweep Melissa into my arms and kiss her until it hurt. I’d put
her up on the island, spread her legs—

Snap!

Delilah stepped in my line of sight, her face dark with anger. “You said you wanted
to talk. So let’s go.”

I threw a glance in Melissa’s direction and she gave me a slight nod. Delilah stomped
ahead. She took in the room with a nostalgia that almost made me sorry for what I
had to do.

“You know it looks exactly the same in here. Even after all this time.” She swayed
her hips suggestively as she strutted to the fireplace. “You remember that one weekend
when you cuffed me and—”

“The only reason I didn’t get a restraining order was because I thought we had an
understanding,” I sliced in. I was too sick of our tired song and dance to mince words.
“You can’t just show up at my home, Delilah. If that wasn’t appropriate when we were
seeing each other, what on Earth makes you think it’s acceptable now?”

She just stood there, watching me with her glittery eyes. If I didn’t know her, I’d
think I needed to repeat myself and drill the point home. But this quiet, after I
asked a non-rhetorical question, was one of the many quirks that made up Delilah James.

Sick of her dramatic pause, I narrowed my eyes, trying to impart on her how far away
from amused I was. “Answer. The. Question.”

She sniffed, shying away from my stern glare. “I really just wanted to talk. See...
who
you’ve been up to.”

I arched an eyebrow, then it flatlined. “The waitress at the restaurant gave someone
a tip, huh?”

An uneasy smile fluttered over her lips. “You know how my fans are.”

“Yes,” I answered darkly, remembering the tweets and vandalism at my corporate office.
“I am familiar with the lengths your fans will go to for you.”

“For me?” she scoffed, tossing her red mane. “You make it sound like I put them up
to it.”

My tolerance had a limit, and I was quickly approaching the place where I’d just roar
until she went scrambling out the door. Out of my life. “I don’t have the time nor
energy for getting into that. I just want to know why you’re here.” She opened her
mouth, but I added an addendum. “Try the truth this time.”

She sighed, eyes still downcast. “Mind if I sit?”

“Yes,” I answered abruptly. “You won’t be staying.”

She scowled, crossing her arms tight against her chest. Her breasts nearly sprung
from their spandex confines. “You want to know why I’m here? Okay. I wanted to see
who was so special that you not only brought them to our place, but to our restaurant
too!”

Maybe I would have been better off just yelling and getting her out as quickly as
she snaked her way back in. I must have forgotten—there was no having a rational conversation
with her when she got this way.

I’d seen glimpses of the crazy when she asked why I didn’t use pet names with her.
I tried to explain that calling her my sub was the greatest pet name I could give
her. I’d gotten another taste of her intensity when she invited me to a premiere and
I declined. She’d pulled out all the stops, big, fat crocodile tears and all. But
the truly unnerving show of insanity was yet to come.

I invited her to coffee to let her know that I had no interest in seeing her sexually
anymore. She’d chucked her iced coffee at my head. Luckily, my reflexes kicked in
and it landed on some unsuspecting co-ed instead. That’s when I decided to exit, but
she stood in my way, screaming that she wasn’t going to let me go. If I was cruel,
I would have said that she never had me in the first place. Instead, I turned on my
heels and went out the back door.

That same desperation was back in her eyes, her voice. And I was done being polite.
I wanted her
out.

“There is no ‘our’, Delilah. What we had was fun while it lasted. And just so we’re
clear, it was a no-strings attached arrangement. An arrangement you agreed to.”

Tears built in her eyes, her voice raw and loud. “But you
knew
I was falling for you. And you saw me, you took care of me, then you tossed me aside!”

I knew painting me as a villain was important to her narrative, but it wasn’t an accurate
portrayal. I could have told her my story, that I knew what it was like to love and
not have that returned. It was the reason for my rules. Not getting attached, compartmentalizing
my emotions, keeping my subs at a distance, all of the above kept my heart safe from
reliving that hurt. I didn’t let anyone get too close.

Except Melissa.

She was the one woman I wanted to know me. A woman I wanted to know inside and out,
as my submissive and more. A woman I was losing precious time with every moment I
wasted with Delilah.

“It’s time for you to go,” I said darkly.

Delilah’s tears were in free fall, coursing down her face as she stood her ground.
“What, are you going to pick me up and throw me out?”

“Delilah,” I warned. The anger in me smiled evilly at the thought, but I would never
put my hands on her, or any woman, in anger.

She squared her shoulders. “It’s okay. You should do it. I’m used to being hurt by
you.”

I went rigid like she’d just hit me. It was always my greatest fear that I’d misread
a lover and miss some sort of mental issue that created their need to be dominated
or spanked. To each their own, but I dominated because I never felt as alive as when
I had a woman on her knees before me; discovering herself, and how freeing submission
was. It wasn’t about inflicting pain or causing harm for harm’s sake. To hear that
Delilah missed that and thought it was all about hurting her felt like a blow to the
gut.

“He might not throw you out on your ass, but I will.”

Melissa stood in the doorway, just waiting for the word.

Delilah looked back and forth between us, swiping at her cheeks. “We’re not done here.
Not by a long shot.”

****

M
elissa peered over at me, hesitation dancing over her soft features. “Do you want
to...talk about it?”

I dabbed at my mouth, trying to keep my voice relaxed even though Delilah’s words
were still echoing through my head.

It’s okay. You should do it. I’m used to being hurt by you.

“Do I want to talk about the train wreck that went down an hour ago?” I gave it to
her straight. “Not really.”

My phone sang in my pocket. I retrieved it and looked at the screen. It was my assistant,
Jessica. Again. I was tempted to answer it, but I decided better of it, letting it
go to voicemail.

She pivoted herself to me, not letting it go that easy. “I think the string of events
are pretty self-explanatory. She was into you, you weren’t really into her, she lost
her shit.” She raked her golden bangs out of her eyes and on closer inspection, I
saw that I misread her. It wasn’t hesitation on her face, or wariness. It was attentive
curiosity. Like she was standing at the edge of the pool, weighing the options of
dipping her toe in the water or just jumping in.

“I’m asking about her whole ‘you hurt me’ comment.”

I scrubbed my hands down my face with a groan. “I was worried you caught that.”

“It’s hard to miss something like that,” Melissa answered quietly. “And I saw your
face. You looked—” She nibbled her bottom lip as she tried to find the right word.
“Broken.”

Sticks and stones...what a fucking crock. I knew all too well that words could injure
more deeply than any physical blow. I could have withstood a slap across the face
from Delilah, but hearing that I hurt her? It gutted me. And looking at Melissa, eyes
round with concern, throwing around words like ‘broken’ when I wanted to be her rock...that
hurt too. I wanted to be the Dom that protected her from anything and everything.
I couldn’t be that and be broken.