Relapse (Doctor Dom Volume 4) (A BDSM & Medical Play Novella) (8 page)

Which reminded me, I hadn’t asked him how she was
faring. I felt like a terrible person. “How’s Andrea doing?”

“Better,” he said.
“The signs are promising. She’s still in a coma, but she’s showing periods of consciousness. Eyes still unfocussed, but greater periods of wakefulness. It’s too early to tell what recovery could look like.” He sighed. “Best case scenario, she’s got a long road ahead in rehab.” His voice was bitter. “I wish they’d catch this guy, and I hope he rots in prison for what he did to her.”

His mood turned pensive, and as insecure as I was about Andrea’s role in his life, I couldn’t blame him. We ate the rest of the meal in relative silence, chatting occasionally about something trivial. At the end of the meal, I reached for the check, and gave him a look, daring him to protest. He laughed and raised his hands defensively. “Thank you for dinner, Lisa,” was all he said with a grin. “Want to come over to my place?”

I hesitated. “I have a really early morning meeting with a client,” I replied. “And I don’t have any clothes with me.”

He looked at me. “You are welcome to leave some stuff over at my place,” he said.

“I could,” I replied. There was more hesitation in my voice.

His gaze narrowed. “What’s the hesitation about?” he asked me directly.

“I wish we’d hang out at my place more often,” I said. Until I voiced the words, I didn’t realize it had been bothering me that we tended to hang out at Patrick’s place, not mine.

He looked puzzled. “I have no objection in coming over,” he chided. “You just have to ask, you know.”

I did know. I suddenly realized that I wasn’t very good with asking for what I wanted in a relationship. I had no problems articulating what I wanted sexually. But where my emotions were concerned, I was a lot more diffident. I’d been the same with Nick. I’m not sure I’d ever really voiced what I wanted from him.

“Will you come over to my place, Patrick?” I asked. My head was reeling from my realization.

He smiled at me. “I’d love to, Lisa.”

***

Our lovemaking was sweet and tender. No games, no toys. Just two people enjoying each other’s bodies. He kissed the entire length of my body as I wriggled and moaned, and then I pushed him on his back and straddled him.

“Stay there,” I told him, and he laughed.

“Playing Dom tonight, Lisa?” he asked, amused, and I grinned at him.

“Would you mind?” I didn’t really want to play Dom, but I did want to hear his answer.

“Depends on what you have planned for me, sweetie,” he replied. “If you wave a flogger at me, I confess that I might bolt.”

I giggled. “Really?” I couldn’t see it.

Patrick laughed. “Nah. I mean, I have no desire to be flogged, but I have tried it before. I wouldn’t use it on a sub if I had no idea what it felt like.”

“Well, Patrick,” I winked at him, and took his wrists in mine, moving them above his head.
“I’m not going to flog you, but keep your hands there.”

He grinned at me. “Yes, ma’am,” he said. I definitely heard a
sarcastic undertone in his voice, but I decided to ignore it. If we’d been switching, I might have taken steps to correct the behaviour, but I really didn’t want to be a Dom. I just wanted to explore his body.

I nibbled and sucked my way down every inch of him, discovering a ticklish bit on his inner arm that had him biting his lip to keep still. “I like this,” I announced gleefully, and he made a face at me.

“Just you wait, kitten,” he said, smiling at me. He kept his hands where I’d positioned them though. “It’ll be your turn soon, and you will regret this.”

“Promises, promises,” I mocked, and he laughed aloud. Then his laughter was cut short
as my breasts brushed over his dick, almost by accident, and he stifled a moan.

“Do that again,” he ordered, and I laughed and complied.

“You know, you don’t get to give the orders tonight,” I pointed out.

“Is that so, kitten?” Patrick arched an indulgent eyebrow at me, and I winked at him and laughed. I was having such a good time. This was perfect. I wanted and needed Dominant Patrick. But, sometimes, like at this moment, it felt great to laugh during sex. To tease. To be relaxed. I very much appreciated that Patrick was playing along. More than that – he wasn’t just humouring me. He actually looked like he was enjoying himself as well.

I wriggled my way down his body, and took a long, leisurely lick at his cock, following the motion with another graze of my nipples on his erection. He growled in response, and I smiled, leaning forward to grab a condom from my dresser drawer.

“That’s very prepared of you,” Patrick noted appreciatively.

I winked at him. “Not just a pretty face, baby,” I responded, and he chuckled.

“No,” he said, “there’s a pretty pussy in there as well. Let me see it, baby. Part your lips and show me.”

“Bossy, bossy,” I chided, but I obeyed, and flushed as he hissed his arousal. His cock jumped underneath me, and I giggled again, opening the condom wrapper and rolling it on his hard cock. I swivelled my hips around his erection, rubbing the head of his cock against my pussy lips a few times as he growled his impatience with my teasing. Finally, I pushed down, and his entire hard length filled me, and I whimpered as each and every nerve ending in my pussy came alight with pleasure.

Patrick moved his hands to place them on my hips, and I shook my head at him. His lips twitched, and he let his hands drop away. “Payback’s going to be such a bitch, baby,” he said, his tone slightly mocking. I just laughed at him.

“I like your payback,” I told him, raising and lowering my hips in a steady rhythm. I leaned forward slightly, and Patrick seized the chance to pull a nipple into his mouth, sucking and nibbling it till I groaned, and pulled his hand up to place it on my other breast.

It was his turn to laugh. “What would you like me to do with this hand, Lisa?” he enquired. Amusement danced in his eyes.

“Pinch my nipple,” I ordered, my voice breathy with need. His eyes darkened as he complied, and I groaned and ground my hips against his cock. My hands moved to my clitoris. One hand parted my pussy lips so that Patrick could watch, and the other rubbed tight circles on my aching clitoris.

Patrick groaned, a noise that vibrated against my nipple. “You are so beautiful,” he bit out, his words muffled by my breast. “Keep doing that.”

I couldn’t have stopped at that moment. My fingers moved, faster, with increased desperation, matched by the speed of my hips gyrating against him. He straightened me. His hands gripped my breasts, and his eyes stayed on my pussy, and his look of hot lust was enough to push me over the edge.

“I’m coming,” I moaned, as I exploded, muscles clenching around his dick, and he laughed and his hands finally stayed on my hips, and he firmly kept my rhythm against him going until he too ground his teeth and erupted in climax.

I purred, and climbed off him, and slumped in bed by his side. His hand reached out towards me, and he laced his fingers in mine. “Was that okay?” I asked him.

“Slightly better than okay, I’d say,” he responded with a smile. “Planning to make a habit of it?”

I shook my head. “Nope. You are definitely the Dom. I was just goofing around.”

He grinned at me, and his grip on my fingers tightened. “Goof around anytime, that was great,” he said. I giggled and he chuckled, and I snuggled against him, till he groaned and got up to dispose of the condom.

I grumbled a little and moved reluctantly when he came back. “I just made a nice, warm cocoon,” I protested, and he laughed and kissed my neck.

“Can I ask you something?” he said.

“Mmm,” I replied. My brain wasn’t really up to forming words yet.

“
Shoot me down if it’s too soon, or if you aren’t up for it. But are you on birth control, and if you are, how do you feel about getting tested, and then possibly dispensing with the condoms?”

I turned to him. “I am on birth control,” I replied. “Neither of us is sleeping with anyone else. If we get a clean bill of health, sure thing, I’m game.”

“Birth control isn’t fail-proof,” he warned. “Do you want kids, Lisa?”

“Whoa,” I said. “Intense conversation alert.”
My heart sped up underneath my flippant words. My answer could be a deal-breaker for us. When you were our age, there was a clock that tended to tick pretty loudly. If we weren’t on the same page on this, we’d be done. But, if there was one thing that it seemed pointless to lie about, it was this. This was just too big a deal.

“I’ve never wanted them, and I’ve never not wanted them,” I replied
finally. “It’s never been a priority. I’ve never felt that clock tick.” I gulped. “Is that a deal breaker of an answer?”

He shook his head. “No, of course not.” His voice was calm. “I’m exactly the same way. If it happened, I’d be happy, but my life is pretty good right now.” He paused for a bit, before continuing. “I’ve been the unwanted child, so I do know that any decision about children isn’t one made lightly.”

He’d given me a perfect safe space to bring up my questions of where this relationship was going. I bit my lip, and my voice was hesitant, but I forged on. “Since you brought up kids, can I ask, what does it mean to date for you? Do you ever want to get married again? Never want to get married?”

He turned to look at me. “I want to be with you,” he replied simply. “We’ve only been together for a little over a month. But I see us on a long-term path. If that path for you eventually means marriage, then marriage. If you never want to get married, then that.”

“I’m sorry, tell me again, how are you single?” My grip on him tightened, but my voice was openly skeptical. Patrick was utterly perfect, completely gorgeous, and really, really nice. Add in the dominance, and I had no idea how some woman hadn’t snapped him up already.

He laughed. “
Ask my therapist,” he quipped. “She’ll tell you that I’m a very flawed human being.”

If he had flaws, he was keeping them very, very hidden. “You have a therapist?” I asked curiously.

“Sure,” he said promptly. “Jackie’s helped me work through a ton of things.”

“Do you talk about me?” I asked, and then blushed as I realized how
self-involved I sounded. “Sorry, that’s a completely ridiculous and vain question. Please forget I said it.”

He chuckled and rolled over, pulling me into his arms so I was spooning him. “I haven’t seen her in a while, but I do need to make an appointment. And Lisa?” His
voice was amused. “You are a pretty important part of my life, so I’m sure you’ll come up.”

“Should I be reassured or threatened by that?” I asked, my tone light. I was only half-joking.

He leaned in and kissed my neck. “Didn’t you say you have an early morning meeting?” he chided. “Go to sleep, baby.”

Patrick:

I thought I’d been ready to date in the two years after my marriage to Andrea was officially over. Heck, I thought I’d been ready to date in the three years we were effectively separated. But, until Lisa, I’d never found anyone I wanted to be with. At this moment, I realized I probably had been far less prepared to date, far more wounded than I had realized.

Lisa and I, we were moving quickly. Today, I’d told her to leave some clothes at my place. I hadn’t told her that every night we spent apart seemed oddly incomplete in some way. I wanted her to move in, and only some external societal timetable about how soon you were supposed to ask had made me hold my tongue. That, and the fact that in a few weeks, she was going to supervise tearing my place apart as part of the renovation we had planned.

But given how quickly we were moving, I wanted to make sure that every single part of me wanted this. No subconscious reservations.
Add it to the list, Anderson,
I thought. I was amassing quite the list of topics to talk to Jackie about. My thinking of Lisa as the anti-Andrea. My inability to tell when I was ready to be in a relationship again. My ability to finally be able to trust again.

I’d been in love once, and I’d moved too quickly, and my marriage had ended in shambles. This time, I would do this right. This time, my head and my heart would be aligned. This time, my trust would not be betrayed.

Lisa:

What does a musician dress like?
I wondered, standing in front of my closet Saturday evening. I hadn’t played in front of an audience for so long. Finally, I reached towards a pair of matte black leather pants, a black shirt that was fairly transparent, with subtle sequins to add sheen, and a black tank-top for some modesty underneath. I piled on the eye-liner and the mascara, going for dramatic, and slid on a pair of silver hoops in my ears. A pair of black 4-inch heels completed the look.

Patrick had been lying on my bed, watching me dress with an amused look on his face. But he whistled softly when he saw the finished results. “So, tearing the clothes off you and fucking you hard, is that an option?” he asked. He was only half-joking.

I laughed. His reaction was flattering in the extreme.

“My clothes have to stay on,” I chided. “But I can reapply my lipstick, if you want a blow job.”

He grinned. “Don’t be starting something you can’t deliver on, baby,” he warned, his lips twitching. His cock had hardened in response to my suggestion; I could see the outline of it through his pants. “As tempted as I am to take you up on your offer, you can’t actually be late tonight. We do need to head out.”

I pouted, then winked at him. “Yes, Dr. Anderson,” I said meekly.

He just grinned at my tone. “Later, Lisa,” he promised.

***

My friends had all shown up to support the two of us. Ethan, Jason, Mandy and Monica were squeezed into a booth when we got there.

“Are we late?” I asked.

Mandy shook her head. “No, we got dinner first,” she replied. “I tried calling to see if you wanted to join us but you didn’t pick up.”

I blushed. I’d been taking a shower with Patrick. I wouldn’t have heard my phone; I was being very effectively distracted from my nerves about performing. Patrick snickered quietly next to me. “We ate already,” he replied politely to them. We sat down. “What time do you go on?”

“Nine,” Mandy replied. The butterflies in my stomach had resumed their crazy fluttering. Patrick took a look at my face, and got up to go over to the bar. In a minute, he was back, and he pushed a drink in front of me. “Drink up, baby,” he said. “Relax.”

“Easy for you to say,” I grumbled. I took a sip of the beer he had put in front of me. A nice, hoppy IPA. He knew my tastes in beer well. I was always quietly surprised at how observant he was.

“Hey,” a voice interrupted. “Can we join?”

I looked up and my mouth almost fell open with surprise. Natalie and Charles, and they were holding hands.

“Of course,” we all said, moving over. I was the only one with my mouth agape. The rest of my friends were just politely curious about who Natalie’s guy friend was.

“Everyone, this is Charles,” Natalie said, doing introductions quickly. When she got to Patrick, he smiled a slightly tense smile, and shook Charles’ hand. “We’ve met before,” he said.

Ah, I’d forgotten. Charles said his company had done some work for Patrick, and I’d meant to ask him about that. Tonight.

“Alright, Lisa, we go on in ten,” Mandy said cheerfully.

My nerves came roaring back. I must have looked freaked out, because Patrick squeezed my hand reassuringly. “You look a little scared, Lisa,” he said with a smile.

“I am a little,” I said. “It’s been so long since I’ve played in front of an audience. More than five years. I used to love doing this.”

He put his arm around my waist and kissed my cheek. “What can I do to help?” he asked softly.

I leaned into his side. “Nothing,” I replied. “Just what you did already. Listen.”

“Of course,” he replied.

My nerves were all for nothing. Playing for an audience was like riding a bicycle. It came back. It helped that most people were there to see
Mandy anyway, not me. From time to time, I’d glance over at our little table of friends. They all appeared to be having a wonderful time. The pitchers of beer in front of them were emptied at a steady pace, and they were both listening to the music and engaging in conversation.

I very seldom wanted to be the centre of attention. But tonight, my music helped enhance an already lovely evening, and that was the part about performing that I absolutely loved.

Jason called out a couple of requests, and Mandy laughed and launched into his favourites. My heart was bursting with pride as I listened to her. She sounded so good. So smooth and polished. It was a sad fact of the recording industry that if you hadn’t made it by the time you were twenty-five, you were unlikely to ever make it. There would likely never be a record company scout in Toronto, listening to my friend sing smooth jazz standards. That kind of music didn’t really have record deal written all over it. But it didn’t matter for Mandy. She sang because there was something elemental in her that lived when she was on stage. She didn’t care about the record deals or the contracts. She didn’t waste her life in bitterness of the things that weren’t to be. She just really enjoyed performing.

Finally, Mandy leaned into the mike. “We are just going to take a short break now, everyone,” she said into the mike, her voice laughing as
Jason wolf-whistled his appreciation. “Stick around, we’ll do the next set in about twenty minutes.”

I put down the guitar, and we headed to our table of friends. There weren’t any empty chairs, and Patrick pulled me into his lap. “You were amazing,” he said. “You are very talented.”

I smiled at him. “I do okay,” I admitted. “I really have missed this. Is it wrong for me to hope that Mandy’s regular bass player won’t be available more often?”

Mandy overheard what I was saying, and she laughed at me. “Say the word, and you are in,” she said. “Seriously. I haven’t asked because you’ve been so busy at work, but if you think things are settled down enough that you have the time to do this, I’d love to have you play regularly with me.”

I hesitated for an instant, thinking about my mom, and Liam, and everything else on my plate. But my mom was better every day, and Liam would be arrested eventually. I beamed at her. “Give me a couple of weeks to arrange stuff?” I asked her. “But yes please!” The last words came out in an excited squeak that had everyone at the table chuckling at me. But I was among friends; I didn’t care.

“Fuck,” Mandy had been laughing with the rest of us, but then she suddenly looked up and swore. “What is he doing here?”

I followed her gaze and I went completely, utterly still. My face must have paled dramatically, because Patrick’s grip around my waist tightened slightly. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

I looked at the utterly gorgeous guy who had just walked in. Slight grey in his hair, still an air of effortless command. “See that guy?” I said to Patrick, my voice shaking slightly. He looked up.

“That’s Nick O’Malley. My ex.”

***

When you spend twelve years of your life only half-living, stuck in a shell of fear of someone, it isn’t clear how you react to seeing them. I could have fallen apart. But I was at a bar, surrounded by my friends, sitting on my boyfriend’s lap, and I felt okay. I’m not saying seeing Nick didn’t have an impact, because I was shaken up, but I held it together, and there was no major trauma.

My friends had all stopped to give me worried looks when he had walked in, but I shook my head very slightly. “I’m okay,” I told them.
I wasn’t lying. I was okay.

As we went back on stage, I discreetly watched Nick and the girl he had come in with. She must have been in her late twenties.
Still not age-appropriate,
I thought snidely, given that Nick was in his early fifties. But I watched her, looking for the scared submissive I had been.

You know what? It wasn’t her. I assumed that she was submissive because that’s what Nick looked for, but she wasn’t scared or cowed. Rather, she looked happy. She kept sneaking sidelong looks at him, and he held her hand as they sat at the bar and had a drink, and when the bartender engaged them in conversation, they both talked to him.

As I watched them, it struck me, in much the same way I had realized earlier with Patrick, that at least a small part of my failure with Nick was my fault. I hadn’t advocated for myself, and I’d let Nick assume what I wanted. I wasn’t giving him a free pass; I had been very young and very inexperienced, and he had overwhelmed me. But I’d still been twenty-three. I held down a job; I’d lived by myself. I could have told Nick what I wanted and didn’t want. But I had been falling in love with him, and I had been afraid to jeopardize that. Some of the things that he made me do had made me feel like less of a person, and I’d been afraid that if I told him the truth, he would leave.

It was the same reason I never used my safe word. I had honestly believed that being a good submissive was to take everything Nick dished out. Using my safe word was a sign of failure.

Did some bit of that thinking carry over to that night that I didn’t use my safe word with Patrick?

The realizations started crashing down on me, and it was only long familiarity with the song I was playing that kept me going through the piece. Fuck. How fucked up was my head?

***

I was very quiet in the cab ride back, still lost in a sea of thought. Patrick sat next to me, his hand on mine, and he finally spoke up.

“Are you okay, Lisa?” he asked. I could hear the concern in his voice.

I nodded. “Yeah. Seeing Nick just made me realize something, and I’m trying to process it.”

“Can I do anything to help?”

I shook my head. “I just need to sort this out for myself,” I replied. This had nothing to do with Patrick, really. This was about me, and how insecure I’d been; so scarred
by my past that I was afraid to ask for what I wanted, for fear that I could lose the man I was with. Though flashes of that insecurity came rushing back from time to time, I honestly didn’t think I was that person any more. But I needed to make sure. Because part of being in an adult relationship was to act with honesty.

It occurred to me that telling Patrick about the time I didn’t use my safe word was more than just about getting rid of my guilt. In some way, if I did tell him, it would be genuine personal growth. I knew that I could lose his trust when I told him, but it was also the right thing to do. Was I willing to risk losing Patrick?

Not tonight. I kept silent, and leaned my head against his shoulder.

***

We headed back to my place.

“Hey,” I said as I undressed, turning to Patrick. “I was going to ask you. Charles said his firm did some work with yours.”

He shook his head. “Not my firm,” he replied. “My father’s firm. But we’ve met because I sit on the board.”

“You sit on the board though you are bored to tears by what your father’s firm does?”

He smiled. “It’s our compromise,” he replied. “Plus, I get to supervise where the company’s charitable contributions go, which I’m happy to be a part of. I grew up wealthy, and then, for a while, I lived among people that were dirt-poor. I’ve seen both the positive and negative things money can do.”

I eyed him thoughtfully. “You are being a lot more
talkative nowadays about yourself,” I commented.

He nodded. “I
tend to be quite reticent by default,” he said. “I’m working on it…”

I smiled. I was taking my clothes off, and it didn’t escape my attention that while he was talking to me, his eyes were following the movements of my hands, and he clearly enjoyed the
view of my body that he was getting. “Dr. Anderson,” I muttered. “Are you watching me take my clothes off?”

“Absolutely,” he said instantly, a twinkle in his eyes. Then his expression turned serious. “Are you up for any D/s play? After seeing your ex?”

I nodded. “All the more,” I replied. “It’s different with you. Way different. Way better.”

He smiled. “In that case,” he inclined his head towards the shower. “Why don’t you take a quick shower while I get things ready here?”

I eyed him with mild suspicion. “What things?” I asked.

He gave me an even look. “Do I have to repeat myself, Lisa?”

Aw fuck. Dominant Patrick. Hottest thing alive. I winked at him. “No, Dr. Anderson,” I said meekly, but with a thread of laughter running through my voice. “Shower. Got it.”

He laughed openly. “Go.”

***

He knocked on my bathroom door when I was about halfway through. I yelled at him to come in over the noise of the water. “Are you joining me?” I asked hopefully.

He smiled. “No,” he said. “I’ll shower after you. I’m leaving something for you to wear. When you are done, put it on and come to the bedroom.”

“Okay,” I replied.
I was tingling with anticipation at what he had planned. Because he’d definitely planned something. The fact that he’d laid out an outfit for me on the bathroom sink was proof.

When I was done, I looked at the black cardboard box. Lingerie. I opened it with trembling fingers, and I pulled out a corset made of emerald green silk and lace, with a matching thong. I stroked it a little reverently; the lace was not the slightest bit scratchy, and the silk was as soft as butter.