The Dominant (16 page)

She was headed toward the library. I was willing to bet anything. For four seconds, I contemplated staying in my room, but
I couldn’t. I knew I had to join her. Just to see. To see if I would find her curled up asleep on a leather couch or standing
in the poetry section with my John Boyle O’Reilly volume open in her hand.

If she found the poem, she would find the rose petal. I’d stuck it inside, marking the exact page, on Wednesday night.

Would I see confusion or longing in her eyes?

I stood by the door and took a deep breath.

Right before I left my room, I stuck a condom in my pocket. It never hurt to be prepared, I decided, remembering the last
time Abby and I were in a library.

I walked down the stairs slowly. Taking my time and trying to decide what I’d do and say once I entered the library.

But that was silly, wasn’t it? What I did would depend upon what Abby was doing. So I decided that for once, I’d go with the
flow. Fly by the seat of my pants.

Hope and pray I didn’t crash and burn.

My eyes went directly to the poetry section when I walked into the library.

And there she was.

She stood in front of a window, and I saw every curve of her body
through the sheer material of her gown. She might as well have been cloaked in moonlight, for nothing was hidden from me—not
the dusky hue of her nipples, nor the faint flush of her cheeks.

Not the wondrous amazement covering her face.

She knew.

My heart gave an unsteady thump.

I turned on the small lamp by a corner table. “Abigail.”

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Okay, she didn’t want me to know she knew.

“Decided poetry would knock you right out?” I asked and then, in the next minute, I decided to try something new. “Let’s play
a game, shall we?

I gave her a sly smile. “Name the poet.”

She tilted her head and crossed her arms. “Lord Byron. Your turn.

She thought of me. She dreamed of me. She wanted me.

Though the hour was late, those thoughts made my body buzz as if I’d consumed a pot of coffee. Unfortunately, I had no idea
who the poet was and, judging by her self-assured expression, Abby knew it. “I should have known better than to suggest such
a
contest with a librarian and English major,” I admitted. “I don’t know that one.”

“John Clare. One point for me.”

I closed my eyes and tried to think of a poem, any poem, and grinned when one came to mind. “Try this one,” I said.

Give me time, Abby. I want to try, but I’m so scared I’ll screw us up. I don’t know what I’d do if I screwed us up
.

She narrowed her eyes, and looked . . . worried?

“John Donne,” she said.

“Your turn,” I said with a nod.

She quoted a John Boyle O’Reilly poem. I recognized it from my Wednesday-night reading.

Her eyes were soft and filled with longing. And I was done for. In that minute, I knew. Whatever happened next. Whatever I
did or we did or whatever I screwed up, I was gone. I was hers and hers alone. It scared the shit out of me.

I would have to take it slow. We would take it slow. I had no experience here and didn’t know what to expect, or what to do.
But we had time, right? We had all the time in the world. Surely we could figure it out.

“John Boyle O’Reilly,” I said. “I give myself a point for knowing the next line:

Thank goodness she stood across the room. Maybe from there she couldn’t see my heart beat. I should have put a shirt on. At
least tried to cover myself.

“A tie, then.” She walked around behind the couch, slow and calculating, trailing a finger along its leather back. “So, why
are
you visiting my library this time of the morning?”

I came to see you. Just like Wednesday. It’s you. It’s always you
.

“I came to play,” I said, nodding toward the piano. I would play, try to calm myself down, make sense of the situation with
music.

She sat on the couch. “May I listen?”

“Of course.” I walked to the piano bench and took a seat. Closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Abby’s song. It was the only
tune I could hear, the only tune I could play. The only thing that made sense in that crazy, confusing, what-the-hell-do-I-do-now
moment.

As always, I got caught up in the notes, focusing on expressing my feelings. I thought about the softness of Abby’s skin,
the sweetness of her personality, the delicate gracefulness of her body, the haunting ache she left in my heart—and let it
all come pouring out. I knew I’d never be able to put into words what I could say through music, so I let the piano speak
for me.

While I played, the clear-cut lines of black-and-white that had always dictated my world started to melt and blend, becoming
the most alluring and beautiful shade of gray. For the duration of the song, gray was exquisite. Gray was two people from
different worlds coming together unexpectedly and creating something new. Gray took the best parts of us both and fit them
together into something larger than we were apart.

The music ended and I sat silently. This was her room. I’d told
her to be herself here. I would do no less. In this room, I’d give myself free rein and damn the consequences.

“Come to me,” I whispered.

She stood up and walked toward me. “It’s my library.”

“It’s my piano,” I said, for we were both giving something up in that moment. Both letting the other see inside the deep secret
places of our souls.

My arms slipped around her when she stood before me, and I pulled her into my lap. She felt so delicate and small. I touched
her hair, caressed her shoulders, dipped my hands to rest along the curve of her waist. I sighed and dropped my head to her
chest, inhaling the delicious scent of her.

She dug her fingers into my hair and, for the smallest second, tried to pull my head up. I wanted nothing more than to lift
my head and crush my lips to hers. No, not crush—to savor. To taste her mouth and explore her lips.

But I’d made that rule and I wasn’t ready to break it. Too much was on the line to do so. Instead, I turned my head and drew
her nipple into my mouth, running my tongue over the gauzy nightgown.

I pulled back and looked into her eyes. “I want you. I want you here. On my piano. In the middle of your library.”

Right now, Abby. It’s the only way I know to express these feelings I don’t understand. And right here, in the one room where
we can both be ourselves.

“Yes,” she whispered with her eyes closed.

It was the only word I needed. I helped her to her feet and drew the nightgown over her head. Her hands ran down my chest
and she untied my pants.

“My pocket,” I whispered before she could take them off.

“Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?” She took the package and ripped it open.

No, I’m not. I used to be sure of myself, but now I’m not. When I’m with you, I’m not sure of anything anymore
.

She rolled the condom onto me, her hands confident as they squeezed the base of my cock, right near my balls. I sat us down
at the piano bench and she faced me, wrapping her legs around me.

“Play for me,” she said as her arms came around me.

Her room. Her desires.

The melody that flowed from my fingers to the keyboard was new—teasing and sensuous, just like Abby in her library. Any other
night, I would have pulled paper from the notebook in my bench and written down the notes, but with Abby in my lap, all I
could do was play.

In one slow motion, she took my cock inside her.

“Keep going,” she said, as my fingers threatened to stop. She rode me slowly, taking me deeper with each pass of her hips.
Drawing me farther into the gray that we were becoming.

She nibbled my ear. Her hot breath sent shock waves throughout my body, and then she whispered, “I love the way you feel inside
me.”

Holy fucking shit. She was talking dirty.

“During the week, I fantasize about your cock—how it tastes.” She thrust downward, squeezing her inner muscles around me.
I moaned.

She thought about me during the week.

Just your cock
, I told myself.
Not you
.

“How it feels,” she continued, and it took all my strength to hold on to her. “I count the hours until I see you. Until I
can be with you like this.”

Forget playing. The music stopped as I wrapped my arms around her, wanting nothing more than to touch her.

She held still. “Keep playing.”

I restarted the song. Faster. Desperate.

“I’ve never felt this way before,” she said. “Only you. Only you can do this to me.”

It was too much. I couldn’t do it anymore. Could no longer deny myself. No longer deny us. No longer wanted to.

I’ve never felt this way before, she’d said.

She was confused too. This was new to her.

Of course.

My hands dropped from the keyboard and I finally,
finally
, had her in my arms.

“You think it’s different for me?” I asked. How was it she didn’t know what she did to me? I slipped my arms up to hook them
around her shoulders and thrust upward with all my might. “What makes you think it’s different for me?”

I count the hours until the weekend. I think about you during the week. It’s the exact same for me. I’ve never felt this way
before either
.

Stay with me, Abby. Bear with me while I sort this all out
.

Please
.

She moved faster and my body took over, meeting her downward thrust by lifting my hips to her. Wanting. Needing. She tightened
around me, and I slipped a hand between our bodies to bring her the climax she craved. Her hands grabbed and pulled at my
hair.

I rubbed her clit faster, desperate to feel her release around me. She lifted her hips, and when I thrust up to meet her,
I felt her climax shake her body. I buried myself as deeply as possible and held still as I came hard into the condom.

We didn’t move. Reality crashed down on me as my heart slowed.

What had we done? What had I done? Where did our actions leave us? And how did we move forward? A bigger man would have talked
about it with her.

I was not a bigger man. And I didn’t want to talk just yet. We had plenty of time, I reasoned. I would think about us, about
this, later. Later in the week when she wasn’t right before me. But for now, I had to get us back on track. Get us ready for
the remainder of the weekend.

“Breakfast at eight in the dining room, Abigail,” I said, setting her on her feet. I wasn’t ready to eat at the kitchen table
with her again. Not until I had time to process what had just happened.

“French toast?” she asked, pulling her arms through the gown.

“Whatever you prefer.” I discarded the condom and watched as she left the library for her room.

I spent the next hour in my bedroom, pacing. Again. Whatever had just happened, whatever had just passed between Abby and
me needed to be set aside and explored later. After I was better able to wrap my mind around it.

For now, we had the weekend to get through and I had the Super Bowl to plan for. Those plans required I get myself back into
the proper mind-set.

More important, Abby needed to get back into the proper mind-set. Eating breakfast in the dining room would be one step toward
ensuring that happened. I had changed breakfast time to eight o’clock instead of our normal seven. Had she noticed I wanted
her to sleep later than she normally did? To make up for our late night?

I probably should have said something about it. Made it clear what I was doing.

Probably should have said a lot of things.

I wondered, not for the first time, how Paul and Christine did this. How they went from dominant and submissive to . . .
more
. Was it confusing? How did they mesh the two together?

I knew married dominant and submissive couples, of course, but had never questioned the hows and whys before.

Not tonight, I told myself. Later. You have plenty of time.

Proper mind-set.

We both needed a reminder.

Our current relationship had to be the focus at the moment.

I set a pillow on the floor and a tube of lube on my dresser before crawling into bed.

She walked proudly into the dining room the next morning, carrying a plate of her delicious French toast. Still wanting to
serve and please me.

I smiled at the thought.

“Make a plate and join me.” I ate a piece of sauce-covered toast while waiting for her to return.

Proper mind-set. Get there.

Get her there.

“Last night doesn’t change anything,” I said once she sat down. “I am your dom and you are my sub.”

I kept my voice even and calm. I was a master of control, and this was no different from anything else.

“I do care for you,” I said. An utter and complete understatement. “It is not unheard of. It’s to be expected, actually.”

I had, after all, cared for my previous collared subs. Hell, I’d even cared for Melanie, but what I felt for Abby was . .
. intense. Too intense. But I couldn’t tell her that at the moment. It was too much, too soon, too overwhelming, and too damn
confusing.

“But sex is not the same thing as love.” Love? The thought shocked me. Is that what I felt? “Although I suppose many people
confuse the two.”

As planned, she didn’t say a word during breakfast. She sat quietly at the table and ate. I could tell her mind was elsewhere.
I felt better about the pillow waiting in my bedroom. Best to remind her of her reason for being here and to do it quickly.

I watched as she finished her breakfast.

“Clear the table and go up to my bedroom,” I told her. “I’ll join you soon.”

She carried our plates into the kitchen. When I heard water running, I took Apollo outside.

My phone rang and I looked at the display. Kyle.

“Good morning,” I said.

“Nathaniel,” Kyle’s mother said. “I’m so sorry to bother you, but I wanted to let you know that Kyle has been running a fever
for the last few days. I’m not sure the doctors will let him go to the game this weekend.”

My stomach clenched. He’d been looking forward to the Super Bowl all season.

“I’m so sorry to hear that, but let’s not do anything hasty. We have tickets in the box, and if he’s able to go, your family
is more than welcome to fly with me on the jet.”

“Thank you. I’ll keep you posted.”

“You do that.” I motioned to Apollo, and we walked back inside. “Tell him I’ve got tickets to the Yankees headed his way.”

“You’re too good to him, Nathaniel,” she said with a sniffle. “Thank you.”

Once inside and up the stairs, I left Apollo outside the bedroom door. Abby knelt on the pillow, watching me.

Yes, last night had been strange, but we were still here. We could still do this. She still wanted this.

The rest would follow in time, perhaps.

I walked to stand before her. “Very nice, Abigail. It pleases me that you anticipate my needs.”

I took my pants down and let my erection spring free. With no hesitation, she leaned forward and took me in her mouth.

I slipped my fingers into her hair and slowly worked her mouth. Taking my time. Wanting to get us both back to where we needed
to be.

She moved her head in time with my thrusts, matching me as I pulled on her hair. I hit the back of her throat and felt her
relax around me, taking me deeper. A tentative hand reached up to cup and stroke my balls.

She felt so good. I knew I didn’t deserve her. Didn’t deserve the gift of her submission.

But I was a greedy bastard and I was going to take it anyway. Take it for as long as she allowed me to have it.

I moved faster, hitting her throat, and my lips parted in pleasure. It surprised me that I’d been clenching my teeth.

Her tongue slipped around me as I thrust into her mouth. My hands tightened in her hair and I drove faster toward my climax.

I wouldn’t warn her of my impending release. I’d wait and see how she reacted, if she picked up on my body’s clues. I thrust
deeply, ejaculating down her throat.

She didn’t miss a drop.

I loosened my grip on her hair and sighed. Yes, this was good. We were still good.

I reached a hand down to help her up, wondering if she’d noticed the lube when she entered the room. Did she have any idea
what I would do next?

I unbuttoned her shirt, throwing it to the ground. Her pants went next, and she gracefully stepped out of them. Her eyes darted
around the room and her body tensed when her gaze fell on the lube.

“Look at me, Abigail,” I said calmly, running my hands down her arms to take her hands. “I want you to answer my questions.”

It would help her to answer out loud. I pushed her back toward the bed and grabbed the lube from the dresser. “Where are we?”

She scrambled up onto the bed, looking at me with her deep brown eyes. Wanting so much to trust me. “Your room.”

I joined her on the bed. “Where in my room?”

“Your bed.” She sat down on her heels.

I grew hard again, but I ignored my erection. This was about her. Relaxing her. Preparing her. My desires would have to wait.

“What happens in my bed?” I trailed a hand down her side, watching as her skin broke out in gooseflesh.

Her eyelids drooped in anticipation. “Pleasure.”

“Yes.” I took her in my arms and gently lowered her onto her back.
Yes. Only pleasure in my bed. Nothing else. Ever
.

I bent my head, nibbling along her neck, while my hands paid homage to her breasts. I gently cupped them and brought my hands
up, barely applying friction to her nipples. Her back arched upward.

I moved my lips lower, swirling my tongue into the hollow of her throat, nipping gently. She drew a hasty breath.

“Just feel, Abigail,” I whispered. I ran my hand back over her chest and felt her heart racing. Yes. It was working.

I brushed my fingers lower, slipping into her folds, testing her readiness.

More. She needed more.

I slid down her body, my lips moving effortlessly across the smooth skin of her belly. Her hands ran nervously across the
bedspread, and I licked her belly button.

So sweet. Every part of her was sweet.

I traced the line of her abdomen, dipping my fingers lower to flit gently over her swollen flesh. Slowly, I pushed a finger
inside her; she rocked against my palm.

“Yes,” I said, against the expanse of her belly. “Just feel.”

I settled myself between her legs and pushed her knees up and out, opening her to me. Her hips bucked off the bed in anticipation.

“Wait,” I said, placing kisses up her thigh, making my way to where she wanted me the most. She groaned. “Wait.”

I pushed my tongue inside her and licked. I brought my hands
under her legs and slid underneath, so her knees rested on my shoulders.

She whimpered.

Oh, yes.

I went back to licking her, tasting the delicious evidence of her arousal while my finger circled her clit. I glanced up.
Her hands fisted the bedspread and her body arched as she tried to get closer to me.

I grabbed the lube from beside us. I licked around her clit, almost touching, while squeezing lubricant on two fingers.

This was new, and she had been uneasy every time I’d brought it up. I wanted to make the experience as pleasurable as possible
for her. Show her just how much pleasure I could bring her when she trusted me.

I went back to nibbling her pussy. Slowly, I brought my fingers to her lower opening, just enough for her to realize they
were there. Stroked her. I took a long lick at her clit, finally giving her the friction she craved while at the same time
I pushed a fingertip inside her anus.

She gasped.

“Pleasure, Abigail. Just pleasure,” I reminded her. My fingertip moved slowly in and out, going deeper with each push.

I matched my finger to my tongue, working her two ways. My teeth nipped a bit harder, and once more, her body climbed near
release. I heard her choppy breathing and saw her legs tremble.

“Relax,” I whispered, because what came next would hurt a bit. I gently slipped a second finger inside, making sure never
to stop with my tongue.

“Oh.” Her body tensed.

I lightly drew my teeth over her clit, and she rocked her hips in to me. Both my fingers moved inside her now, gently going
deeper, gently stretching.

“Oh, ah,” she panted.

“That’s it, Abigail,” I encouraged. “Let it go. Let me make it good.”

Trust me.

She wouldn’t last much longer. Her entire body trembled. Just another pass or two, I decided, licking her clit. On my next
lick, I pulled my lips back and grazed her with my teeth, pushed my fingers inside as far as I could.

She gave a startled yelp as she climaxed around me.

I gently placed her body on the bed and watched in satisfaction as the aftershocks of orgasm rippled through her.

I’d done that.

I’d brought her that pleasure.

Me.

Her eyes slowly opened and she gazed at me in wonder.

“Are you okay?” I asked. Of course, she didn’t need to answer; it was obvious just how okay she was.

“
Mmmmm
,” she mumbled, rolling onto her side.

I gathered her to me. “Can I take that as a yes?”

She gave a weak nod and tucked her head into my chest.

Something I’d never experienced swept over me, and I pulled her tightly to me. I never wanted to let her go.