Reason (6 page)

She was gaining her equilibrium back and hiding her pain from him. Jamison was both relieved and bothered. He didn’t want to cause this woman that kind of pain, never wanted to see it stand in her eyes again. He was distracted from his musing by a huff and a stamp of Ivone’s foot. He then wanted to laugh. He rarely laughed. He felt like a big dog being nipped at by a tiny puppy. He should be tanning her ass for the way she had just spoken to him, but found himself understanding that he had hurt her, offended her in some manner, broken the rules. So therefore the rules no longer bound her, and she could speak to him as she saw fit. He inclined his head and stepped aside for her to pass him and followed her back to the master bath. She pulled his shirt over her head, but not before he saw the tiny spots of blood on it. He reached out to position her in a manner to allow him to check her ribs, but she eluded him and fixed him with a look that actually made his balls draw up.

“Back off. If you want to make yourself useful, find me something to wear that one of your other women left behind. Maybe you can match the hair tie.” Ivone slammed the bathroom door in his face.

* * * *

Ivone hunkered under the shower after pulling her hair up with an elastic she found wrapped around a package of Band-Aids in the medicine cabinet. She fought tears and knew that she had overreacted. She was actually horrified that she had spoken to a Dom in that manner.
She was a trained sub for God’s sake.
And she had no call to imply that she was just another one of his women. What had come over her? Well, he had, for one thing, and in more ways than one. He was too complex, running hot and cold, wanting her then pushing her away. She wasn’t a robot. It was too much, too fast, she thought. The idea of never seeing him again made her stomach hurt, and she rubbed it with the loofah in an attempt to assuage the throbbing.

When Jamison had taken himself off to the shower, Ivone believed
she
had taken herself under control after Jamison rejected her. After pleasuring her with punishment, fucking her senseless
and
showing her off to a stranger, all of which she had really liked. It had only been one night and a truly memorable experience. One night wasn’t long enough to feel what she was feeling. So she had slunk down the hallways in reverse order and found the closet. One more minute would have given her the time to slip into her coat and shoes and be out the door. Maybe even thirty seconds. Finding a cab would have been tough, but she would have managed. But then that nice John had come along. He immediately noticed the telltale blood spots, like someone with x-ray eyes. They were nothing really. She had just irritated two little stripes by rubbing them with the shirt fabric. But John was worried for her and couldn’t believe that Jamison had allowed her to just leave without breakfast, or even calling her a cab.

She had almost convinced him that it was okay, and hopefully hidden the tears standing in her eyes, when Jamison came along like some dark character from a stupid comic book. No way did she want to cause trouble between him and that nice John, but he wasn’t getting another chance to hurt her again either. Boy, how that rejection had stung. She stepped out and dried off, and pulled off the elastic, grimacing as it took some strands with it, and pushed her hair into some semblance of order. She scrubbed her teeth with a finger anointed with toothpaste and spat vehemently into the sink. Now to face him, the prick. Her simmering anger served to hold the sadness at bay.

* * * *

Jamison lounged in a chair, watching the bathroom door. She made him so hard. He thought he had wanted a compliant woman surely, not a little spitfire, although he knew she would be regretting her outburst given her training. He needed to find out what he had done wrong and correct it, then correct her. He had decided that she wasn’t leaving. He was vaguely aware that he had lost control of himself, eschewed his training, but he didn’t care. It felt quite exhilarating. They would take the weekend to determine where this would go. He had found a pair of black tights, pant things his sister had left on her last visit, and a flowered shirt Eleanor had set aside for rags. No undergarments. There was simply nothing else available that would come close to fitting her. Jamison managed to hide a smile at the thought of seeing Ivone’s face when she saw what there was to wear. His other women indeed. Surely she didn’t consider herself to be just another woman? Couldn’t she feel this thing between them? Was that what had upset her? Did she think the display in the car last night made her something less, cheapened her, and not made her the hottest thing ever in his eyes? They were going to talk after breakfast if he had to use the machine to help convince her. It could go for hours and he idly wondered how many orgasms Ivone could take before she opened up to him. Once he’d had her again of course.

The sight of her naked body took his breath away. Again. She marched toward him, her pert breasts bouncing, and his eyes dropped to her sex. It was still swollen from his use and he badly wanted to touch her, sooth her there.

“Let me see your ribs,” he demanded instead.

“No, they’re fine.”

“Ivone.”

* * * *

Ivone had herself under control now. She wasn’t going to swear and scream at him anymore. It was beneath her.

“Don’t you try that dark-Dom tone on me, Jamison Landry. You forfeited that right,” she fairly snarled.

Whatever it was had come over her again. She did
not
behave like this with any man she was in a sexual relationship with.
Behave yourself, calm down, pull yourself together!
She tried again, because he had coiled his big frame up from the chair, intent written across his features. She wanted to jump on him and grind herself against that erection he was sporting. He might be an ass, but lots of women boffed an ass.
Just make this about a quick fuck.
At the same time she longed to slap his face.

“I am fine. I don’t need you to check my ribs, really.”

There, that was the ticket. She had been firm but polite. So why was she face down on the bed with his hand on her ass? Jamison’s hand traced two places near her waist.

“Stay like this,” he ordered. “I’m going to get a bandage and apply it so that you won’t irritate it. It’s already scabbing over again. And Ivone, if you move, you won’t sit down to eat your breakfast.”

Ivone lay as instructed, and fumed. She suffered the application of some ointment and let him apply Band-Aids. All this fuss, much too late. Breakfast had better be worth it, although it would probably taste like sawdust if she had to look at him. Vaguely, she knew that her intense emotional response was a defense mechanism, although quite out of character for her. She was a patient person and never let people get to her, or at least never let them see that they had. She had considerable practice hiding her feelings, both to save her mother more guilt and to save herself. Goddamn this man. Why hadn’t he turned out to be a simple Dom, one who liked to give pain, coupled with lots of hot sex? Ivone pushed away the fact that she hadn’t been successful in finding one of those, as well as the fact that she had already acknowledged that she needed more, that Jamison Landry had awoken something deep inside of her.

She donned the borrowed clothing without comment. The tights fit passably well, and the flowered shirt, although antiquated, was worn soft by hundreds of washings and flowed around her, hiding the fact that she had no underwear. Ivone figured Jamison had chosen the least flattering of the women’s clothing he had lying around and ignored the little twinge it gave her. Whatever. Breakfast and then, move on. The club would have another event in a few weeks and by then she would have forgotten Jamison and he her, if she could make herself go through that door ever again.

* * * *

Jamison was amazed at her lack of response when Ivone dressed in the only outfit he had been able to find. She looked adorable, if a bit frumpy in the top. The tights outlined her lovely little butt and legs though, and he was glad that Eleanor’s old shirt came down to her thighs. He didn’t need to be further tempted until Joyce was more seasoned. Having a naked woman kneeling at your employer’s feet or spread on his lap might take some getting used to. He offered his hand to escort her, but she smiled distantly and slipped past him out the door. When she hesitated, clearly not knowing where to go next, he placed his hand on the small of her back, carefully avoiding the small injuries and guided her to the dining room.

Joyce was setting out silver trays of hot, steaming food on the sideboard. Jamison was taken aback. Joyce must have been under the impression that this breakfast was a big deal. Well, so it was. He was still trying to ignore how Ivone was getting under his skin while sussing out ways to keep her with him, but that was no excuse for being rude. He pulled a chair out for her, but she had already gone to where Joyce was standing to offer her hand and her name. He felt totally ashamed. There was no pretence with Ivone. John had seen that, even if she had been naked and kneeling when he first laid eyes on her. Jamison’s face flamed with embarrassment and he moved to awkwardly perform the introductions.

Joyce looked a little flustered at Ivone’s outfit, but clearly the young woman’s charm and spontaneity disarmed her. She shook her hand and smiled widely, indicating that she hoped breakfast would be suitable. Ivone was so enthusiastic in her response that Joyce positively bounced from the room to get the coffee.

John was waiting by the table and when Ivone turned her smile on him, the old man seemed to melt. Jamison felt like an outsider. He suddenly didn’t like himself very much. He went to fetch Ivone and placed her firmly in the chair he had selected. Joyce came back to serve coffee and asked that she be called if anything further was required.

Ivone ignored him, but she and John engaged in conversation. Jamison heard John telling Ivone personal information that he had only learned about his friend as an adult. Which made sense, he supposed. John had been too busy shielding him from his father to have time for much sharing, and he had been too young anyhow for John to be his friend at the time. Ivone told John what she did for a living and made him laugh with some of her anecdotes. Jamison sensed, though, that she wasn’t always happy in her work, that she liked it, but that there were issues. Well, if she agreed to become his sub, she wouldn’t have to work. She wouldn’t have the time. He watched and listened as he ate and drank his way through a marvelous repast. John must have told Joyce that Ivone was to be treated very well indeed. Ivone picked at her food and drank too much coffee. Jamison longed to cut her off. Too much caffeine wasn’t good for a person. He managed to hold his tongue though. This breakfast was to assuage John’s anxiety, but he was getting incredibly invested in and possessive of Ivone. Why else was he thinking about her becoming his full-time sub? Not that she was giving him any real hints that she’d agree. Jamison was tenacious however, and had never failed when he made up his mind about something. Comparing a relationship with Ivone to a business deal probably wasn’t the best idea, and he resolved to think about it differently, once he learned how.

When the meal was finished, Ivone thanked Joyce and gave John another smile. She turned to Jamison without looking directly at him, and gestured to the phone.

“I think I’ll call a cab, Mr. Landry,” she said sweetly. “You’ll have lots to do, I’m sure, and I should be getting home. I have a cat who will be wondering where lunch is.”

“Don’t,” he murmured. “I want to talk to you.”

John discreetly vanished into the kitchen, and Jamison caught Ivone’s panicked glance in that direction.

“I don’t want to hear it,” she tried, backing away.

Jamison shrugged and effortlessly lifted her into his arms, and headed for the playroom. Ivone struggled a little, but she didn’t use her safe word or look at him. He could see moisture glittering on her lashes and he suddenly knew what it had cost her to get through breakfast for John’s sake. He felt ashamed again, and tried to think like a man, not a play Dom. He changed direction and went back to his bedroom where he gently sat her on the bed and took the chair.

“I’d like to talk with you,” he amended.

It was clear that Ivone understood the concession.

“Then talk,” she invited.

“Why did you deny me this morning?”

“I didn’t,” she answered.

He waited.

“You didn’t use a condom.”

Jamison closed his eyes for a moment. She wasn’t on birth control, and she could be pregnant. How had she taken his control? Bullshit. He needed to quit making this her problem and man up. Damn it. It didn’t matter because he didn’t care if he had made a baby in her. He wanted Ivone, any way he could have her.

“Are you on birth control?” he managed to ask civilly.

“I am.”

“Then why…” he began, then abruptly shut up. He understood. She was totally right and he had fucked up. Christ. A night with her and his brain wasn’t working. That made two mistakes if he had been counting, and he hadn’t been, so that probably meant he’d made more than just two!

“I apologize, Ivone,” he said quite formally. “My behavior was inexcusable.”

Ivone said, “You tested me all evening and then ‘forgot’ something really important. You forgot about my rights as a sub. I share the responsibility for the safe word, but you…” Her words trailed off as she looked at his face.