tagBDSMRaw Ch. 05

Raw Ch. 05

bysecretsxywriter©

I hadn't thrown a temper-tantrum in over thirty years. Yet one little word had sparked that rebellious nature I was sure I had outgrown.

"I'm sorry, Becca. It's just not possible. That's the last I'm going to say about this."

I opened my mouth but clamped it shut again when Malcolm tilted his head down and shook it once. I wanted to whine, "But why?" And he knew it. Damn him.

I returned to the yellow pad of paper on which I was trying to finish my rough draft of Chapter One. But I couldn't concentrate. I kept thinking about last night at the restaurant, at the private club, and about this morning. How he could lift me up so high, and with one word, "No," I could tumble so far.

My heart felt deflated. I pretended to write even though I was mulling over my disappointment. In my head, I had my arms crossed and my bottom lip stuck out as I glared at the "adult" in the room who had denied me what I wanted.

When I heard the rustle of the newspaper, I peeked up to see him carefully fold it and set it aside before he got up to refill his coffee mug. I was admiring his ass in his jeans while sticking my tongue out at his back when a stampede of elephants and monkeys came barreling down the stairs and into the kitchen. Well, it sounded like one, even though it was just Drake chasing Daphne.

"Good morning," Daphne said breathlessly as she danced around one end of the island. Drake paced around the other: the lion hunting the gazelle. She squealed when he outsmarted her and grabbed her around the waist, nuzzling her neck.

"Get a room," I mumbled.

"Been there, done that," Drake grinned.

I tried to ignore them as I sipped my milk-and-sugar doctored cup of caffeine. But they continued to horse around and eventually bumped into my chair. I saved the legal pad before the hot liquid sloshed over the side of my cup and onto the table.

When Drake plopped down into the chair next to me, Daphne perched herself on his knee. "I wish it were Labor Day already. I can't wait two weeks. Can you imagine? Three whole days of being your slave?"

"The opportunities are endless," Drake said, adding a feisty growl.

I jabbed my pencil at the paper and broke the lead. "Oh, fuck it." With a grunt, I shoved my chair back and stomped to the foyer.

"What's with her?" I heard Drake ask. I didn't hear Malcolm's response.

Upstairs, I grabbed my laptop, notes, and my everyday-purse after transferring the essentials from the clutch I'd used last night. I paused when I pulled my thong out, feeling tears in my eyes. I swallowed a lump in my throat and tossed the barely-there panties aside. I was heading back down when I noticed Malcolm leaning against the wall at the foot of the stairs.

"Going somewhere?" He stood up straighter, as if to block me if necessary.

"To my office, where it's quiet and free from distractions." I stopped two steps above him and adjusted the straps of my laptop bag and purse on my shoulder.

"Is this because I won't go away with you for the Labor Day Weekend?"

"See, you said 'wont,' not 'can't.' You don't really—"

"Stop it. You're acting childish. It's not becoming."

I rolled my eyes at him. "I'm sure you'd like to take me across your knee right now."

He ascended one step so we were nose-to-nose. "Becca! I told you, school starts next Monday. I always use that long weekend to adjust my lesson plans after the first two weeks of classes. It's important. You're welcome down to come to my house, I just can't go out of town for that long."

"Understood." I pushed by him and retrieved my keys from the hall table. "Stay as long as you like. Drake knows how to lock up."

"Come on, Becca." Malcolm grabbed my wrist as I reached for the door handle. I froze, and he must've realized what he'd done—what that action meant to me—because he let go as if my skin were on fire. "I'm sorry. Please. Don't go."

"I have a deadline. I have work to do. I'm sure you can understand that."

He let me leave. But as the front door shut behind me, I felt a pang in my chest. I had never been mean to him before. I started to turn around and apologize, but I heard everyone laughing inside. I knew they weren't laughing at me, but I still was hurt. As if I were back on the outside of the group again...and whatever I had said or done to him mattered so little that he could move on that quickly to something humorous. I prayed he would open the door and come after me, but it remained closed.

All the way into the office, I wondered if the past few weeks had just been a crazy, kinky fling. Were we merely playing roles? And now, when reality—disguised as our jobs—came knocking, we went our separate ways?

Although my schedule as a writer was flexible, his as a teacher wasn't most of the year. He couldn't take off on a weekend getaway at will. He had priorities that trumped time with me.

I knew that. I understood. I just didn't like it.

Was I so selfish that I wouldn't allow myself to adapt? To compromise? To fully submit? And would my resistance be my own demise?

###

I was depressed. And when I was depressed, my characters were depressed.

They reflected my moods, and sometimes my own life. Which resulted in some interesting dialogue and scenes. Today, though, it wasn't for the good. And it was frustrating me.

After revising the same scene ten times and then deleting it, I wandered from my home office to my bedroom across the hall. I leaned against the doorjamb and took in the windows flanking the headboard where a cool, night breeze fluttered the curtains and made the Roman shades tap lightly against the frame. On my bed, the duvet was partially on the floor; the top sheet was balled in one corner; and the two feather pillows were piled in another.

I hadn't slept well last night. Or the night before. Truth be told, I hadn't slept well since our fight.

The first time Malcolm had made love to me was on that bed. I'd been mortified that someone would be able to hear us with the windows open. Then I had thrown caution to the wind and embraced whatever he'd told me to do.

I tried to remember the last time Malcolm and I had been in here.

I'd had sex with Brian in mid-July; met Malcolm two days later; and had sex with him for the first time the following weekend. He'd taken me to the private, kinky nightclub a couple of weeks before Labor Day. It had to have been eight weeks since he'd been to Chicago...since I'd digressed to be six instead of thirty-six.

School had started again for him in August. I had gone to visit him for a couple of weekends in September, but both times there had been a lot of tension between us. I just hadn't been into the scenes. I'd almost used the safeword just to end it the last time. We continued to talk on the phone, but every time he suggested getting together again, I had given him the same excuse: I was too busy writing to go visit.

While I had been busy—I'd gotten ten chapters written in those same eight weeks—it wasn't to the point that I couldn't have made time for him. I was still holding a grudge that we hadn't gone away for the extended Labor Day Weekend. I couldn't remember ever having been so...stubborn.

He was never able to come to see me. I had to go there if we wanted to get together. I wasn't really down for the idea of trying to fit in sex between lesson plans and grading papers. So I guess I'd made myself unavailable to spite him.

But as I stared at my bed—as I tried to imagine him lying there—my chest tightened. I longed to sleep beside him again. To wake up naked with his arms around me. To feel his hands, and lips, and cock on my skin.

I ached for him to be buried so deep within me I felt as if we were one. We hadn't talked in a week, and I hadn't seen him in three. I tried to remember his voice. His touch. His scent.

I slid to the floor, crying. I missed him. Terribly.

It had been all about me and not about him. I wasn't taking his life—his feelings—into consideration. I had expected him to drop everything for me. It's how I'd lived my life up until recently, and it had worked. Well, sort of.

But Malcolm? He wasn't my normal kind of guy to date. He wasn't my normal anything. And that's what made him so special. I had ruined it, though. Was there any way to repair what had been done?

The doorbell rang, and I scrambled to my feet, wiping my tears away. I almost fell down the stairs in my haste to get to the front door. When I finally grasped the handle, the door didn't budge. I cursed, turned the deadbolt, and tried the handle again.

"Malc—"

"Well, hello sunshine." Daphne's grin faltered for a moment as she pushed past me into the foyer.

"Uh, hi." I stepped outside and looked around.

"It's just me."

I blinked and came back inside, closing the door. I checked my watch. Six o'clock. "Not to seem inhospitable, but why? I mean, why are you are here?"

"Because you, my dear, need a break," Daphne said, dropping a bulging backpack on the floor and heading up the stairs. "Drake suggested we have a little impromptu vaca together. Just you and I."

"Where are we—I mean you—going?"

"To pack you a bag." She disappeared from my sight, but I heard her singsong voice floating from the direction of my bedroom. "You better come along or you won't have a choice about what you're going to wear."

"Shit." I tripped up the stairs and found her in my closet pushing hangers around. "Let me do that. Give me a clue where going?"

"You'll need pants. Maybe shorts. Definitely a sweater." She paused to turn around and look at my legs. "Have you shaved recently?"

I blushed as I glanced down and shook my head. I'd had no reason to shave. Not since September 21st.

I remembered that day clearly. I'd gotten up early, taken a long bath and shaved—everything—hoping that it would make me feel more sexy. I'd had high-hopes all the way to Wheaton. But a smooth pussy and legs hadn't helped because I was still carrying that grudge. I'd resisted every command he'd given me to the point that he had finally ended the scene prematurely...before either of us had climaxed. I'd left that night and driven back to the city feeling even more frustrated.

Now, looking back, I knew it was all my fault. Dammit. When would I learn?

"Jump in the shower, Becca. Trust me with your clothes."

I glanced between my closet and the bathroom. "But—"

"Go. Or I'm not packing any underwear."

"Geesh." I yanked off my shirt and finished stripping once I'd turned on the water.

Twenty minutes later, I actually felt better than I had in days. And I had smoother legs. I ran a comb through my hair to remove any tangles, then I braided it in one long plait down my back. It would dry faster that way, and it would make my hair nice and bouncy for later. Whatever and wherever 'later' was.

When I came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, Daphne was reclining in the oversized chair I kept in the corner by the window. The floor lamp behind the chair cast a yellow glow over her tanned skin. My no-bigger-than-a-large-purse duffel bag that I used when I went to the gym—which hadn't been in quite a long time—was seated at her feet.

"That's all I'm taking?" I bent to unzip it to see what she had packed, but she gently kicked her sandaled foot at my hand.

"Uh, uh." She swiped her finger across the screen of her iPhone, her eyes on the phone as well. "I laid an outfit for you on the bed. Bring me all of your toiletries then get dressed."

I raised an eyebrow. "And here I thought you were a submissive."

"Only in the bedroom, darling." She glanced up with a wink. "Well, usually only in the bedroom."

I shook my head and obeyed, merely out of curiosity. I gathered hair products and cosmetics, tossed them on the bed, then snagged the articles she'd selected for me to wear. Five minutes later, I re-emerged from the bathroom in jeans and a blouse, thankfully with panties and bra underneath.

We were in a taxi on the way to O'Hare Airport when I ventured to inquire about our travels again. But her phone rang, cutting my attempt short. So I turned my attention out the window and watched the buildings and people zip by under the city lights while she listened to a mostly one-sided conversation.

She didn't shut off her phone until the taxi stopped to let us out.

I grabbed my bag and purse and slid out after Daphne. However, once I was on the curb, I refused to budge until I had more answers.

Daphne continued on, not realizing I wasn't behind her until she'd gone several feet inside the door. I watched her stop, look around, and then realize I was still outside. With a grimace, she huffed back through the automatic sliding door. I wondered if my brother would punish her if I told him she had basically kidnapped me. That made me grin.

"Wipe that smirk off your face," Daphne said with a deep sigh once we were face-to-face again. "We're going to miss our flight."

"I'm not moving until I know where we're going."

"You know, you're horrible with surprises. Just trust me."

"Sorry, I only trust three people in my life right now. Sue, my agent and editor. Drake, my brother and confidant. And Malcolm, my boyfriend and lover."

I frowned after naming the last one. Just saying his name sent tiny shudders through my nether region. God, I missed Malcolm. I should be on my way to see him to apologize for my selfishness. But no, I was standing in an airport with a bag that could barely hold enough clothes for one night much less any extended stay that required an airplane to get me there.

"Becca? Just do it. You won't regret it."

I wanted to stomp my foot and pout. But her glare made me flinch, and I wondered if she ever switched with Drake. A woman topping my hard-headed, dominant brother? Now that would be interesting to see, even if we were related.

I sucked it up and followed her inside. When I started toward the ticket line, she grabbed my arm and tugged me in the other direction. "Don't we need our tickets?"

"I have our boarding passes printed already. We just have to get through security."

"Oh, okay. That's being efficient."

We were only in line for five minutes when I glanced at Daphne and noticed her grimacing again.

"What now? I'm doing what you told me to. I haven't asked where we're going. I'm trying to trust you—"

"I don't feel so good."

"Oh, God, no." I looked for the nearest restroom and started to leave the line.

"No, keep our place! I'll be right back." Daphne glanced at the woman behind us who nodded with a sympathetic smile as assurance that she would let Daphne jump back in line. "Take your boarding pass. Worst case, I'll meet you on the other side, okay?"

I bit my lower lip. It wasn't right to get separated, especially under these circumstances. "Daphne, really. I'll go with you."

"No!" Daphne's eyes widened and she shook her head. "I won't be long. I swear."

"Um, okay. You have my cell. If you're really sick, you call me, okay? We can cancel the trip."

"Just stay in line, okay?"

I nodded. "Call me?"

"Will do."

I watched with a heavy heart as she walked away. I prayed she'd be fine on her own.

The line moved quicker than I was used to seeing, or maybe that was just because I was nervous. I clutched my boarding pass and driver's license in one hand and my phone in the other. As the line grew shorter, I shuffled my duffle bag forward with my feet, glancing between the restrooms and the male security officers who were on my side of the metal detector gate and wore constant frowns.

I was getting worried when there were only five people ahead of me and Daphne still hadn't returned. I was still trying to decide if I should step out of line when I was up next.

"All belongings in the bin, ma'am," one of the officers said with his hand out.

I gave him my paperwork and ID, deposited my bag and phone in the black plastic bin, and stepped forward to go through the body scanner. Until I ran into his thick arm.

"Remove your shoes, ma'am."

I tried not to roll my eyes as I toed off my sandals and set them on the conveyer belt. While my shoes had been quite pricey, there wasn't that much material to them that would allow one to hide any weapons. But I would humor him.

Barefoot and feeling a bit sick to my own stomach now on the whereabouts of my traveling companion, I passed through the scanner without issue. It took only a minute to get my shoes back on and my duffle bag and purse slung over my shoulder.

The lady who had been behind me the whole time patted me on my shoulder as she grabbed her belongings. "Good luck. I hope your friend is okay."

I thanked her and stared at my blank phone. I almost got ran over by a family of four as I tried to get back to the bullet-proof glass partitions and conglomerate of electronic security machines separating the waiting passengers from those who had already passed the checkpoint. I could see the waiting line, and Daphne wasn't in it.

"Pick up, pick up, pick up," I mumbled after dialing her number.

It rang four times then went to voicemail. I cursed under my breath and dialed again. I'd never hated voicemail more than I did right now. I had just punched the button to end the call and start again when I looked up from the phone and saw Daphne running up to the partition on the other side. Her phone was in her raised hand and she was shaking her head. Great. Her phone had died.

Before she could reach me, two male security officers waylaid her. If the situation wasn't so dire, I would have laughed. She was the farthest thing from a terrorist. Dressed in a tight T-shirt, even tighter jeans, and carrying a backpack, she was a kinky one at best...who would submit to your every wish. It brought a whole new meaning to 'put your hands on your head and spread your legs.'

It felt like I was in a dream. I couldn't reach Daphne, I couldn't talk to her, and I couldn't hear her. She was waving a piece of paper in the air while pointing at me with her other hand. The officers' backs were to me, so I couldn't read their expression, but the way Daphne kept pointing at me told me she wasn't giving up.

Whatever she was telling them seemed to finally sink in as one of the men turned and stared at me. He said something to her, nodded, and took something from her. As he walked in my direction, I could see Daphne behind him. She raised her hands in the air and flung her head back. International lingo for "Good grief!"

I forced myself not to cross my arms and tap my toe as I waited. Could he move any slower? He even managed to get in a little chit-chat with a female officer before he reached me.

He handed me a piece of paper. "That lady with the phone wanted me to give this to you."

I waited for him to say more, but he walked away. I looked at the paper.

"Phone died. Go to Terminal. Hold plane."

Seriously? I was supposed to make the plane wait if she wasn't there in time?

I had no idea when we were taking off, anyway. Daphne was still standing on the other side of the partition, but now she was waving her hand at me. The people in line on her side were staring between her and I. It wasn't until she lifted her other wrist and pointed to her watch that I realized she was wanting me to get going. So I went.

Five minutes later, I was standing still again, this time trying to figure out which hallway to go down. I didn't know what terminal our plane was departing from. Hell, I didn't even know where I was flying to. It probably would have helped to look at my boarding pass, but I'd been so worried about Daphne that I had completely forgotten to check it.

I stepped out of the flow of traffic and tried to decipher the codes sprinkled all over the printed sheet Daphne had handed me. Then I realized it was upside down. Right-side up now, I blinked as I saw the destination: Baltimore, Maryland.

That couldn't be right, but there was my name down at the bottom of the page. What the hell was in Baltimore? If I was going somewhere against my will, why couldn't it be Hawaii or another country?

Report Story

bysecretsxywriter© 27 comments/ 97691 views/ 91 favorites

Share the love

Report a Bug

Next
6 Pages:123

Forgot your password?

Please wait

Change picture

Your current user avatar, all sizes:

Default size User Picture  Medium size User Picture  Small size User Picture  Tiny size User Picture

You have a new user avatar waiting for moderation.

Select new user avatar:

   Cancel