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Authors: Emily Ryan-Davis
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you about my travel arrangements. I called to
tell you I'll be in Michigan. Meeting a man. Submitting--he's a sexual
Dominant. I'm meeting him because I'm going to submit to him. I'm--"
"Stop talking." Jacob's words were firm.
Lauren pressed her lips together and braced herself. For anger. For
disappointment For--
"I hope you have a good flight." He ended the call.
She pulled the receiver away from her ear and stared at it. Her shoulders
were still tense, prepared for a verbal fight, but Jacob hadn't given her
anything. No objection. No...nothing. Only polite words spoken in a neutral
tone of voice.
"I hate you," she said to the silent phone. After replacing the
receiver on the cradle, she closed her text document and read the e-mail again.
These are your instructions.
* * *
I'm here.
Using a prepaid disposable cell phone, she sent the text to the man she
knew only as Master and pressed her cheek against the limousine's tinted
window. An arc of lights flew overhead, orange against the before-midnight sky.
A blurry nimbus surrounded each bulb. The driver sped across a bridge. Toward him .
He didn't acknowledge her immediately but she knew he was there. The
waiting made her wet, made her forget the life that existed before and after
tonight.
I'm glad you landed safely.
His response so closely mirrored her husband's words that the similarity
gave her a momentary start. Guilt swelled in her stomach even though she knew
her actions mattered little to Jacob. Less than little.
She rubbed her nose against the cool glass, drew a deep breath and pushed
oxygen down into the center of her body. The scent of clean leather and her
desire for submission popped the bubble of guilt.
She wanted him in a dark, silent room, nothing but hot skin, soft sighs,
rough groans of satisfaction. The purr of the limousine's engine was too much
background noise.
They had reservations at a hotel. She wanted to steal towels that smelled
like his sweat, to rub her face in a pillow wrinkled by his sleep. She wanted
to sleep with him and wake up with his cock nudging the cleft of her ass. The
confession was on the tips of her thumbs but before she could type it, her
phone chimed with another incoming text.
Put your panties in your purse before you see me.
Heat shot to her sex. Her hand shook as she slid forward on the seat and
lifted her skirt, then her hips, to draw the satin triangle over her knees.
She rubbed the crotch panel between her fingers. The cotton was already
wet.
Are they off?
Leaning forward, she pulled her underwear over her designer heels. Yes .
Your bra next.
Instead of obeying, she responded with--
Master, may I have silence until I arrive?
Of course.
His consideration surprised her. It shouldn't have. Master respected
wants—his and others'. She could learn a thing or two from him. Would her heart
be softer if she said "no, that's not what I want"
more often?
She slid her wedding ring from her finger and dropped the gold band into
her purse. Then she stuffed her panties into her bag.
Fifteen minutes later, the driver dropped her off in front of the
three-star hotel she'd booked. Master's choice. Lauren offered to pay for a
higher-end establishment but he'd refused. It didn't matter ultimately. She
wouldn't see their surroundings once they were locked away in the room.
Her skin tingled, taut with anticipation. She hadn't lain her bare body
on fewer than 500-thread-count linens in...ever. Master's hands would be rough,
too. The blue-collar truck driver I'd come to know during the past two years
probably didn't do manicures or moisturizers. The promise of his hard touch
made her skin tighten. As she approached the lobby doors, she studied her
reflection in the glass. Her nipples puckered up against her thin sweater, dark
and obvious through the white silk weave. Her body had fewer reservations than
her mind. Every step she took made the bare lips of her sex slide against one
another, demonstrating
tell you I'll be in Michigan. Meeting a man. Submitting--he's a sexual
Dominant. I'm meeting him because I'm going to submit to him. I'm--"
"Stop talking." Jacob's words were firm.
Lauren pressed her lips together and braced herself. For anger. For
disappointment For--
"I hope you have a good flight." He ended the call.
She pulled the receiver away from her ear and stared at it. Her shoulders
were still tense, prepared for a verbal fight, but Jacob hadn't given her
anything. No objection. No...nothing. Only polite words spoken in a neutral
tone of voice.
"I hate you," she said to the silent phone. After replacing the
receiver on the cradle, she closed her text document and read the e-mail again.
These are your instructions.
* * *
I'm here.
Using a prepaid disposable cell phone, she sent the text to the man she
knew only as Master and pressed her cheek against the limousine's tinted
window. An arc of lights flew overhead, orange against the before-midnight sky.
A blurry nimbus surrounded each bulb. The driver sped across a bridge. Toward him .
He didn't acknowledge her immediately but she knew he was there. The
waiting made her wet, made her forget the life that existed before and after
tonight.
I'm glad you landed safely.
His response so closely mirrored her husband's words that the similarity
gave her a momentary start. Guilt swelled in her stomach even though she knew
her actions mattered little to Jacob. Less than little.
She rubbed her nose against the cool glass, drew a deep breath and pushed
oxygen down into the center of her body. The scent of clean leather and her
desire for submission popped the bubble of guilt.
She wanted him in a dark, silent room, nothing but hot skin, soft sighs,
rough groans of satisfaction. The purr of the limousine's engine was too much
background noise.
They had reservations at a hotel. She wanted to steal towels that smelled
like his sweat, to rub her face in a pillow wrinkled by his sleep. She wanted
to sleep with him and wake up with his cock nudging the cleft of her ass. The
confession was on the tips of her thumbs but before she could type it, her
phone chimed with another incoming text.
Put your panties in your purse before you see me.
Heat shot to her sex. Her hand shook as she slid forward on the seat and
lifted her skirt, then her hips, to draw the satin triangle over her knees.
She rubbed the crotch panel between her fingers. The cotton was already
wet.
Are they off?
Leaning forward, she pulled her underwear over her designer heels. Yes .
Your bra next.
Instead of obeying, she responded with--
Master, may I have silence until I arrive?
Of course.
His consideration surprised her. It shouldn't have. Master respected
wants—his and others'. She could learn a thing or two from him. Would her heart
be softer if she said "no, that's not what I want"
more often?
She slid her wedding ring from her finger and dropped the gold band into
her purse. Then she stuffed her panties into her bag.
Fifteen minutes later, the driver dropped her off in front of the
three-star hotel she'd booked. Master's choice. Lauren offered to pay for a
higher-end establishment but he'd refused. It didn't matter ultimately. She
wouldn't see their surroundings once they were locked away in the room.
Her skin tingled, taut with anticipation. She hadn't lain her bare body
on fewer than 500-thread-count linens in...ever. Master's hands would be rough,
too. The blue-collar truck driver I'd come to know during the past two years
probably didn't do manicures or moisturizers. The promise of his hard touch
made her skin tighten. As she approached the lobby doors, she studied her
reflection in the glass. Her nipples puckered up against her thin sweater, dark
and obvious through the white silk weave. Her body had fewer reservations than
her mind. Every step she took made the bare lips of her sex slide against one
another, demonstrating
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