Need (19 page)

At nine thirty, he motioned for me to get up, get ready for bed, and meet him in his bedroom. The entire time I was in my room getting ready I was trying to figure out what he was going to do. I’d thought it was over, but obviously, it wasn’t.

When I walked into his room with one minute to spare, he was sitting on his bed wearing nothing but his boxers, waiting for me. He indicated that he wanted me to kneel in front of him. I was visibly shaking.

“Now to correct your behavior, Brianna.” His voice was calm. “For the next seven nights you will sleep on the floor, on that spot next to my bed.” I followed his gaze down to where he was looking on the floor. “It seems that I can’t trust you to tell me when you’re in distress. You will also be in the same room as I am at all times when I’m home, unless I say otherwise.” He paused. “Go to the dresser and bring back that blanket and pillow lying on top.”

I moved quickly to retrieve the items and came back to kneel in front of him. He took the pillow from my hands and tossed it to the floor.

“Do you understand why this is happening?”

“Yes, Sir,” I said, not wanting to meet his eyes.

Then he surprised me by pulling my face to his and kissing me. It was deep and passionate, and left me breathing hard by the time he let me go. “Good girl. Goodnight, Brianna,” he said with a smile as he climbed into his bed.

I didn’t know if I should speak, but I decided to chance it. “Goodnight, Sir.”

As I lay down on the floor beside his bed, I realized how stupid I had been in not wanting to tell him. He was always there for me. I shouldn’t have doubted him.

Stephan

I rolled over the next morning and looked down. To my surprise, Brianna was gazing up at me with wide eyes. The blanket I’d given her was pulled up to her chin, and I could see the apprehension in her eyes. “Good morning, Brianna.”

    “Good morning, Sir.”

Although I’d not missed the ‘Sir’ she’d tacked on at the end of her sentence, I let it slide. I wanted to see if she continued to use it once she realized I was no longer upset with her. Her correction was still in effect, but I wasn’t going to chastise her again as long as she followed through.

Flipping the covers back and sitting up, I saw her swallow nervously. Her eyes were no longer looking at my face. They were now focused on my lap where my morning erection stood proud.

I chose to ignore her reaction and stood, stretching. “I’m going to shower. Fold your blanket and place it and your pillow back on the dresser, then go to your own room and get ready for the day. You have thirty minutes, and then you are to meet me in the kitchen.” Without waiting for her to respond, I walked over to my dresser, pulled out a fresh pair of boxers, and walked into my bathroom.

Contrary to my normal evening showers, the one this morning was quick. I addressed the throbbing between my legs by turning on the cold water. My focus had to be on Brianna today, and not in a sexual way. She needed me.

Before I walked out into the main room, I glanced at the clock beside my bed. I’d taken my time getting ready to give her the full thirty minutes. Six twenty-five.
Perfect
.

I tossed my suit jacket over my arm, and strolled out of my bedroom. My eye immediately went to the kitchen, but I didn’t see Brianna. Stopping to listen, I didn’t hear her moving around in her bedroom either. Glancing inside the open door, I noticed that both her bedroom and bathroom lights were off. She had to be here somewhere. Throwing my jacket over the back of the couch, I crossed to the kitchen and nearly stumbled over her. Brianna was kneeling, waiting for me, beside the island.

Instead of saying anything, I reached out my hand hoping she’d take it. It took a few minutes, but eventually she lifted her hand and fitted it into mine.

Once she was on her feet, I guided her over to the couch. “Why were you kneeling?

“You told me to wait for you, Sir.”

“Brianna, do we have to go through the conversation about you ending every sentence with my title again?” I raised one eyebrow in question, waiting for her answer.

She shook her head. “No.”

“Good girl. Now, explain to me how my telling you to wait for me in the kitchen translated into you kneeling.”

“I thought . . . I thought that was what you . . . wanted.”

She’d been looking down at her lap, but I wanted her eyes on my face when I spoke, so I lifted her chin up. Her gaze followed. “I promise you that I will be more than clear when I wish for you to kneel for me. You seem to be under the impression that I am angry with you. I’m not. Am I disappointed? Yes. Very much so. I thought we’d come far enough that you would tell me if something was wrong. Apparently, I was wrong.”

“I’m—”

The last thing I wanted was to hear she was sorry. “If you’re truly sorry, fix it.”

She pressed her lips together. I knew there was something she wanted to say, so I waited. “How do I fix it?”

“By not making the same mistake again. You need to tell me when something is bothering you. I can’t read your mind.”

She nodded.

“How did you sleep last night?”

“All right,” she said.

I waited for her to continue, but she didn’t. “You need to give me more than that, Brianna. Did you have any trouble falling asleep? Did you have any dreams? Nightmares? How did you feel about being made to sleep on the floor next to my bed?”

She glanced back down at her lap before she answered me. “A little,” she shrugged. “I don’t remember any dreams or nightmares.” She pressed her lips together before she continued. “I . . . I don’t know how I feel about sleeping by your bed. It . . . wasn’t what I was expecting.”

I chose to ignore the fact that she’d had some trouble falling asleep for now. That could be due to the stressful evening. Instead, I directed the conversation to her last few sentences. Those seemed to be weighing the most on her mind. “What were you expecting?”

She shook her head quickly.

Taking hold again of her chin, I stopped her motion. Her eyes were wide as she looked at me, but I waited.

“I know you said . . . that you wouldn’t . . . but . . .” She closed her eyes. “Whenever I slept on the floor beside a man’s bed it was so he could . . . use me.”

“And your fears wouldn’t go away.”

“No,” she said. “They wouldn’t.”

I scooted closer, closing the distance separating us, and pulled her into my arms. “Thank you for telling me. I know it was hard, but I promise you if you keep trying it will get easier.” Instead of answering, her fingers tangled in my shirt, and I heard the sound of muffled sobs. “Shh. There is nothing to cry over. You did well.” Even though she nodded, it took a few minutes for her to calm down.

The rest of the morning was spent making breakfast and going over—once again—what I expected from her throughout the day. When she asked me what she was supposed to text, I smiled and kissed her temple before getting up and taking my plate to the sink. “I want you to tell me what you are doing, whatever it is.”

She looked pensive, but nodded.

I walked to the couch to retrieve my jacket, and she followed me as she always did. Gathering her in my arms, I gave her a lingering kiss on the lips while trailing my fingers over the hickey I’d left on her neck two nights ago. She’d not said anything about it and neither had I, but I couldn’t deny how much I enjoyed seeing it there just inches below my collar.

Her gaze followed my hand, and she blushed. I smiled and skimmed my fingers down her arm before stepping back toward the door. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Brianna

I couldn’t believe how fast my day went. It was hard to get involved in anything for too long because I had to stop and text him. A few times he texted me back and asked me a question, like when I said I was fixing lunch he asked what I was making. Every time I sent a text, I could feel the weight of what I’d done. Or not done.

He’d said he was disappointed in me, and if I was being honest, I was disappointed in myself as well. I had to do better. Talking wasn’t easy, but I’d do it. He’d done so much for me. I could do this for him.

As I cooked dinner for us, I finally let my mind drift back to last night and how it felt sleeping on the floor beside his bed. I couldn’t make the fear completely go away, so I’d woken up several times during the night. I’d wake, eyes wide, waiting, then my brain would kick in, I realized where I was and that it was Stephan in the bed, not Ian or one of his friends.

I couldn’t help my reaction when I saw his erection pressing against his boxers. I wonder if that added to his disappointment. He’d told me repeatedly he wouldn’t do anything unless I asked him to. Why was that so hard to accept?

As soon as I asked myself that question, I knew why. Stephan was very different from the men I’d met over the last year. Whenever I saw their physical excitement, I knew what was coming. With Stephan, he never did what I expected. He always kept me guessing.

When he walked in the door, I was still in the kitchen putting the final additions on the food I was making. I was happy he was home. Even though I was sometimes confused about my life with him, I always felt better when he was near.

He smiled when he spotted me, and walked to where I was standing. Without any words, he pulled me against him, and buried his face in my hair. “Good evening, Brianna.”

I hugged him back. He felt good, warm. I tried to remember what he’d said to me this morning . . .
he wasn’t angry
. He wasn’t angry. I needed to keep reminding myself. “Good evening,” I said, although it was muffled since my face was partially covered by his jacket.

He held onto me a few more minutes before tilting my head back and kissing me. It was soft, and I wanted it to last longer, but before I knew it, he pulled away. “Is dinner ready?”

“Yes. I just have to bring it to the table.”

“Nothing will burn for the next few minutes?”

“No.”

“Good,” he said. “I want to get this jacket and tie off before we eat.”

He turned and walked toward his bedroom. Halfway there, he paused to glance back at me expectantly, and I remembered I was supposed to stay with him at all times now that he was home.

I left the kitchen, and rushed to his side. He didn’t say anything, but I thought I might have seen a small smile tug at his lips. I liked when he smiled.

Just as he’d said, he walked into his room and removed his jacket and his tie, placing them both on a hanger. I stood by the door trying to stay out of his way since I didn’t know what exactly I was supposed to do.

He walked to the bathroom, and I debated whether or not I should follow. He stopped at the door, but didn’t turn. “Wait here,” he said, pointing to a spot just outside his bathroom door.

He left the door open, but I didn’t look. I could hear everything, though, and it brought back memories I’d rather not remember, making me shiver. Would I ever be able to see and hear simple things without panic?

Closing my eyes, I recited my mantra. Stephan. Not Ian. Stephan. Not Ian.

Slowly it began to work. I could feel the panic lessening. When he walked out of the bathroom a few minutes later, my breathing was only slightly labored, but my eyes were squeezed firmly shut and my head tilted toward the floor.

I felt him beside me, his hand cupping my face, raising my chin. I still didn’t open my eyes.

“Number?”

I thought about it before I answered. Two minutes ago, the number would have been higher. “Four.”

“Tell me why.”

Slowly, I opened my eyes and looked at him. His face was full of concern. “I was . . . remembering. Things.”

His head tilted slightly to one side. “What triggered your memory?”

“I could hear you,” I whispered. “In the bathroom.”

His brow furrowed. He seemed confused for a moment, then his eyes softened in understanding and he wrapped his arms around me, holding me tight. “I wish I could take all those unpleasant memories from you, love.”

I clung to him. He had no idea how much his words meant to me. I wished he could take them all away, too, but just having him with me helped so much.

His lips lingered in my hair. “What’s for dinner tonight?”

“Fish.”

“Fish?” 

I nodded against his lapel.

Taking a step back, he laced his fingers with mine and we walked back out to the kitchen.

After we finished dinner, he went to his chair as he always did. I cleaned up, and walked over to him. He opened his arms for me, and I sat down on his lap.

This was my happy place. If I had to pick one spot in the world I’d rather be than any other, it would be here, sitting in his lap.

As the evening wore on, I began to feel a little disappointed. We talked as we always did, only now, every time I made a face he made me tell him why and what it meant, but never once did he mention or lead me to believe we would be ending the night any differently than we had last night. Yes, I’d panicked when he’d touched me the other night, but before that, it had actually felt really good. I liked when he touched me, and I badly wanted to try again.

When nine thirty came, he patted me on my leg letting me know he wanted me to stand. Other than the gentle caresses and kisses he always gave me whenever we were close, he didn’t try to touch me.