The Submissive
Page 21
The seconds ticked down on the field clock. Ten, nine, eight—Nathaniel came and stood behind me—five, four, three—the people around us stood—one. Everyone cheered as the players ran off the field.
Nathaniel wrapped another blanket around us. We were just any other couple snuggling. Nothing different going on. Except I could feel the difference pressed hot and hard against me.
Below us, men worked frantically to set up the stage. Nathaniel’s hand shimmied its way up my shirt. I gasped as he rolled my nipple between his fingers.
“You have to be quiet,” he warned.
He worked me into a frenzy underneath the blankets, his slow hands roaming under my shirt and his erection, hard as nails, behind me. And the entire time he was murmuring in my ear, telling me how good I would feel, how he could barely wait, how hard I made him.
I knew what it was. It was payback for our tryst in the library when I made him play as I rode him. It was payback, and payback was hell. And heaven. It was hell and heaven pressed down, rolled together, and so intertwined you couldn’t tell the difference between them anymore.
The lights dropped suddenly in the stadium. Nathaniel took a slight step backward and I felt his hands undoing his pants.
“Lean over the rail just a little.” He stepped closer.
I glanced to my right. Another couple was standing there at the rail, side by side. They weren’t paying us any attention.
“No one knows,” Nathaniel said, lifting the hem of my skirt up under the blankets. “People are so caught up in their own little worlds they don’t notice what’s going on around them. The most life-altering event could be happening right next to them and they’d miss it entirely.” He slipped a finger inside me. “Of course, in this case, it’s a good thing.”
Someone appeared on stage and the crowd erupted in a thunder of noise and applause. Nathaniel thrust into me. My little shriek was drowned by the shouts of the audience.
Nathaniel moved in time with the music. We could have been dancing. I take that back—we were dancing. A slow, sultry, erotic dance. He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close as he thrust inside again. I moved my legs apart further and he slipped even deeper with his next thrust.
“All these people,” he whispered in my ear, “and no one knows what we’re doing.” He went even deeper. “You could probably scream.” He twisted a nipple and I bit my lip.
The song changed and Nathaniel slowed down, taking his time, moving inconspicuously. But we were still connected and the feel of him inside me was divine. He slowed further, but it was enough. His speed didn’t matter, what mattered was that he was still there. Still claiming me.
The next song was even slower. Again he was slow, but again he was there and that was his point. He could be slow or he could be fast. He could take me against the door or in a stadium filled with thousands of people. Whatever he decided, he would do, but he was still there.
Finally the music picked up. Nathaniel dropped a hand and started circling my clit, his touch growing rougher with each pass. I feared for a second I’d fall over the rail. Or collapse in an incoherent blob. Around us, people swayed to the music, and under our blankets, his hand and body kept us dancing to our own beat.
I pushed back as he thrust forward and he let out a small grunt. Faster and faster he worked me, thrusting and circling as the song reached its end. Lights flashed before me or it may have been fireworks. Hard call. Seven strong staccato beats played out punctuated by Nathaniel’s deep thrusts.
“Come with me,” he whispered as he thrust one last time and we peaked together while the crowd roared with approval for the artist on stage.
We stayed there, against the rails, while the people around us calmed down. While our hearts calmed down. He stayed pressed against me, as he never had before, and I felt his heartbeat against my back. Felt it racing.
“Now that,” he said against my neck, “was an amazing half-time show.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
I sat on Nathaniel’s lap for the entire third quarter. We just sat there, watching the game, wrapped in blankets. Occasionally, he’d run his fingers through my hair or trace the outline of my ear.
“We should head back to the box,” he said as the quarter drew to a close.
Right, the game.
Who was winning?
I went to get up, but his arms wouldn’t let me go.
“Do you know why we had to wait?” he asked.
Because you like me sitting on your lap.
Because you want to hold me.
Because you are fascinated by the tiny little details of my ear.
Because, as much as you try to deny it, you’re feeling something.
Because, maybe, you love me.
“Because your face shows absolutely everything,” he said. “You’re an open book.”
I laughed. Okay, that too.
We stood up. I still had a blanket wrapped around me.
“You better change,” he said. “Felicia will have my head if she sees you in that skirt.”
I had a feeling Felicia was going to have both of our heads anyway, but that hardly mattered at the moment.
After I changed, we walked back to the box. I overheard several ladies in the bathroom while I was changing—the Giants were winning. Good to know, since I’d be spending the rest of the game with people who’d probably watched the last quarter.
Felicia came right up to me as we re-entered the box and drew me to the side. “Where have you been?” she asked quietly.
“We were busy.” I tried to say it with a straight face, but apparently my expression gave me away.
“Damn, Abby. At the Super Bowl? Isn’t that illegal?”
“Felicia,” I said, putting a hand on her shoulder, “it should be illegal not to do what I’ve been up to.”
“You are so going to get arrested one day.”
“Prude.”
“Perv.”
The Giants won. After the clock wound down, Jackson ran to the middle of the field and looked up at our box. He blew a kiss in our direction. Everyone oohed and ahhed.
Everyone except Nathaniel. He just shook his head and mumbled again about how much his cousin owed him. But I could tell he was happy for Jackson. Just the same way I was happy for Felicia.
We left the stadium after the trophy presentation. Nathaniel and Todd gave each other wary glances, but they finally came together in a friendly hug.
“Three weeks,” I thought I heard Nathaniel whisper, but couldn’t be sure.
Elaina pulled me into her arms. “If I find anything out, I’ll call you.”
Felicia was staying in Tampa with Jackson, but Nathaniel had to fly back so I headed to the airport with him. The flight back home was much more subdued than our trip to Tampa. We spent our time in the leather captain’s chairs.
“Did you make me an appointment for Wednesday?” Nathaniel asked. “Or were you just saying that to Linda?”
“I was hoping you would want to stop by,” I said. Didn’t he know by now I’d never lie to him?
“Wednesday, then.” He smiled. “Research?”
“You do need help with your literature. If you try really hard, I’m sure you can do better than Mark Twain and Jane Austen next time.”
“Really? Who would you suggest?”
“Shakespeare,” I said, leaning back and closing my eyes.
I called and set up an appointment for waxing on Wednesday afternoon after work. I could have made it earlier, but I wanted to see if Nathaniel would say anything else about it when he showed up at one o’clock on Wednesday.
He didn’t.
And let me say one word about being waxed.
Ohmygodithurtsofuckingbad.
But afterward—way, way, way afterward—I decided I rather liked it. It was neat, clean, and I could only imagine how sex would feel. It might actually make sex better, if such a thing were possible.
I also decided to give some thought to Nathaniel’s idea of getting a car. On my own, of course. I talked Felicia into letting me borrow hers for the weekend. She rarely used it anyway.
Six o’clock Friday evening found me in the foyer of Nathaniel’s house.
He pointed to my clothes. “Take them off. You’ll get them back on Sunday.”
I took my time undressing. I’d thought about the weekend all week, just as Nathaniel planned, I’m sure. Wondered how I’d feel walking around completely naked. Crazy Abby was all for it and promised to keep Rational Abby occupied with new tax regulations or some such nonsense.
I hadn’t forgotten what he’d said about Friday night, and when I stepped out of my pants—look, Nathaniel, no panties—the look in his eyes told me he wasn’t joking about the Friday-night fiver. Matter of fact, he took me the first time right in the foyer.
And, uh, yeah. Sex was better.
I felt self-conscious at first, walking around without clothes, especially when doing something mundane like cooking. But as the weekend went on, I found myself growing confident. The way Nathaniel looked at me, the way his eyes followed my movements, it made me feel powerful. Again, probably his plan the entire time.
He was sitting at the kitchen table when I came down to cook breakfast Sunday.
“Go upstairs and put some clothes on,” he said, very no-nonsense.
What was going on? I was so flustered, I didn’t ask. I left the kitchen and went back to my room, where I fumbled my way into some jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt before making my way back down the stairs.
“Have a seat,” he said.
“Is everything okay?” I sat down, trying to figure out what would put such a…guilty look on his face.
“I’m sorry,” he said, looking at me finally. His eyes were troubled. “I should have done a better job. Paid more attention.”
“You’re scaring me. What’s wrong?”
He waved toward the window.
Shit.
Snow reached halfway up the glass pane, about four feet, and was still falling.
“I should have listened to the weather,” he said. “Watched the news. Something.”
“So what’s the verdict?” I asked, still watching the snow. “How bad is it?”
He shook his head. “No one knows with any certainty. It could be days before you’re able to leave. I’m sorry. I should have sent you home yesterday.”
So I was stuck with Nathaniel for a few extra days. It beat being stuck inside the apartment—
“Felicia,” I whispered. I had her car!
“She’s with Jackson,” Nathaniel said. “I talked with him not long ago—he picked her up yesterday. She’ll be okay.”
I nodded. Felicia was perfectly fine with Jackson, and I liked the idea of her being with him instead of holed up at the apartment.
“We need to discuss guidelines for the week,” Nathaniel said. “I thought it would be easier to talk if you had clothes on.”
That explained the kitchen table—he wanted my opinion.
“I thought we could split the meals up, I’ll take one, you take the next.” He looked at me and I nodded. “I’ll be working most of the time, so I want you to make yourself at home. The house is open to you except for my two rooms.”
Guess that meant I wouldn’t be sleeping in his bed.
“My rules stand,” he continued. “You can use the gym and yoga DVDs. I expect you to call me ‘sir’, but I don’t expect anything from you sexually. I don’t believe sleep will be an issue. You’ll get your eight hours.”
Snowed in with Nathaniel. Crazy Abby was turning cartwheels. Rational Abby had a nagging suspicion it might not be such a good idea.
“Do you have any questions?” he asked.
“Yes. You don’t expect anything sexual, but you didn’t say no sex. Does that mean there’s a possibility of sex?”
Nathaniel wrapped another blanket around us. We were just any other couple snuggling. Nothing different going on. Except I could feel the difference pressed hot and hard against me.
Below us, men worked frantically to set up the stage. Nathaniel’s hand shimmied its way up my shirt. I gasped as he rolled my nipple between his fingers.
“You have to be quiet,” he warned.
He worked me into a frenzy underneath the blankets, his slow hands roaming under my shirt and his erection, hard as nails, behind me. And the entire time he was murmuring in my ear, telling me how good I would feel, how he could barely wait, how hard I made him.
I knew what it was. It was payback for our tryst in the library when I made him play as I rode him. It was payback, and payback was hell. And heaven. It was hell and heaven pressed down, rolled together, and so intertwined you couldn’t tell the difference between them anymore.
The lights dropped suddenly in the stadium. Nathaniel took a slight step backward and I felt his hands undoing his pants.
“Lean over the rail just a little.” He stepped closer.
I glanced to my right. Another couple was standing there at the rail, side by side. They weren’t paying us any attention.
“No one knows,” Nathaniel said, lifting the hem of my skirt up under the blankets. “People are so caught up in their own little worlds they don’t notice what’s going on around them. The most life-altering event could be happening right next to them and they’d miss it entirely.” He slipped a finger inside me. “Of course, in this case, it’s a good thing.”
Someone appeared on stage and the crowd erupted in a thunder of noise and applause. Nathaniel thrust into me. My little shriek was drowned by the shouts of the audience.
Nathaniel moved in time with the music. We could have been dancing. I take that back—we were dancing. A slow, sultry, erotic dance. He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close as he thrust inside again. I moved my legs apart further and he slipped even deeper with his next thrust.
“All these people,” he whispered in my ear, “and no one knows what we’re doing.” He went even deeper. “You could probably scream.” He twisted a nipple and I bit my lip.
The song changed and Nathaniel slowed down, taking his time, moving inconspicuously. But we were still connected and the feel of him inside me was divine. He slowed further, but it was enough. His speed didn’t matter, what mattered was that he was still there. Still claiming me.
The next song was even slower. Again he was slow, but again he was there and that was his point. He could be slow or he could be fast. He could take me against the door or in a stadium filled with thousands of people. Whatever he decided, he would do, but he was still there.
Finally the music picked up. Nathaniel dropped a hand and started circling my clit, his touch growing rougher with each pass. I feared for a second I’d fall over the rail. Or collapse in an incoherent blob. Around us, people swayed to the music, and under our blankets, his hand and body kept us dancing to our own beat.
I pushed back as he thrust forward and he let out a small grunt. Faster and faster he worked me, thrusting and circling as the song reached its end. Lights flashed before me or it may have been fireworks. Hard call. Seven strong staccato beats played out punctuated by Nathaniel’s deep thrusts.
“Come with me,” he whispered as he thrust one last time and we peaked together while the crowd roared with approval for the artist on stage.
We stayed there, against the rails, while the people around us calmed down. While our hearts calmed down. He stayed pressed against me, as he never had before, and I felt his heartbeat against my back. Felt it racing.
“Now that,” he said against my neck, “was an amazing half-time show.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
I sat on Nathaniel’s lap for the entire third quarter. We just sat there, watching the game, wrapped in blankets. Occasionally, he’d run his fingers through my hair or trace the outline of my ear.
“We should head back to the box,” he said as the quarter drew to a close.
Right, the game.
Who was winning?
I went to get up, but his arms wouldn’t let me go.
“Do you know why we had to wait?” he asked.
Because you like me sitting on your lap.
Because you want to hold me.
Because you are fascinated by the tiny little details of my ear.
Because, as much as you try to deny it, you’re feeling something.
Because, maybe, you love me.
“Because your face shows absolutely everything,” he said. “You’re an open book.”
I laughed. Okay, that too.
We stood up. I still had a blanket wrapped around me.
“You better change,” he said. “Felicia will have my head if she sees you in that skirt.”
I had a feeling Felicia was going to have both of our heads anyway, but that hardly mattered at the moment.
After I changed, we walked back to the box. I overheard several ladies in the bathroom while I was changing—the Giants were winning. Good to know, since I’d be spending the rest of the game with people who’d probably watched the last quarter.
Felicia came right up to me as we re-entered the box and drew me to the side. “Where have you been?” she asked quietly.
“We were busy.” I tried to say it with a straight face, but apparently my expression gave me away.
“Damn, Abby. At the Super Bowl? Isn’t that illegal?”
“Felicia,” I said, putting a hand on her shoulder, “it should be illegal not to do what I’ve been up to.”
“You are so going to get arrested one day.”
“Prude.”
“Perv.”
The Giants won. After the clock wound down, Jackson ran to the middle of the field and looked up at our box. He blew a kiss in our direction. Everyone oohed and ahhed.
Everyone except Nathaniel. He just shook his head and mumbled again about how much his cousin owed him. But I could tell he was happy for Jackson. Just the same way I was happy for Felicia.
We left the stadium after the trophy presentation. Nathaniel and Todd gave each other wary glances, but they finally came together in a friendly hug.
“Three weeks,” I thought I heard Nathaniel whisper, but couldn’t be sure.
Elaina pulled me into her arms. “If I find anything out, I’ll call you.”
Felicia was staying in Tampa with Jackson, but Nathaniel had to fly back so I headed to the airport with him. The flight back home was much more subdued than our trip to Tampa. We spent our time in the leather captain’s chairs.
“Did you make me an appointment for Wednesday?” Nathaniel asked. “Or were you just saying that to Linda?”
“I was hoping you would want to stop by,” I said. Didn’t he know by now I’d never lie to him?
“Wednesday, then.” He smiled. “Research?”
“You do need help with your literature. If you try really hard, I’m sure you can do better than Mark Twain and Jane Austen next time.”
“Really? Who would you suggest?”
“Shakespeare,” I said, leaning back and closing my eyes.
I called and set up an appointment for waxing on Wednesday afternoon after work. I could have made it earlier, but I wanted to see if Nathaniel would say anything else about it when he showed up at one o’clock on Wednesday.
He didn’t.
And let me say one word about being waxed.
Ohmygodithurtsofuckingbad.
But afterward—way, way, way afterward—I decided I rather liked it. It was neat, clean, and I could only imagine how sex would feel. It might actually make sex better, if such a thing were possible.
I also decided to give some thought to Nathaniel’s idea of getting a car. On my own, of course. I talked Felicia into letting me borrow hers for the weekend. She rarely used it anyway.
Six o’clock Friday evening found me in the foyer of Nathaniel’s house.
He pointed to my clothes. “Take them off. You’ll get them back on Sunday.”
I took my time undressing. I’d thought about the weekend all week, just as Nathaniel planned, I’m sure. Wondered how I’d feel walking around completely naked. Crazy Abby was all for it and promised to keep Rational Abby occupied with new tax regulations or some such nonsense.
I hadn’t forgotten what he’d said about Friday night, and when I stepped out of my pants—look, Nathaniel, no panties—the look in his eyes told me he wasn’t joking about the Friday-night fiver. Matter of fact, he took me the first time right in the foyer.
And, uh, yeah. Sex was better.
I felt self-conscious at first, walking around without clothes, especially when doing something mundane like cooking. But as the weekend went on, I found myself growing confident. The way Nathaniel looked at me, the way his eyes followed my movements, it made me feel powerful. Again, probably his plan the entire time.
He was sitting at the kitchen table when I came down to cook breakfast Sunday.
“Go upstairs and put some clothes on,” he said, very no-nonsense.
What was going on? I was so flustered, I didn’t ask. I left the kitchen and went back to my room, where I fumbled my way into some jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt before making my way back down the stairs.
“Have a seat,” he said.
“Is everything okay?” I sat down, trying to figure out what would put such a…guilty look on his face.
“I’m sorry,” he said, looking at me finally. His eyes were troubled. “I should have done a better job. Paid more attention.”
“You’re scaring me. What’s wrong?”
He waved toward the window.
Shit.
Snow reached halfway up the glass pane, about four feet, and was still falling.
“I should have listened to the weather,” he said. “Watched the news. Something.”
“So what’s the verdict?” I asked, still watching the snow. “How bad is it?”
He shook his head. “No one knows with any certainty. It could be days before you’re able to leave. I’m sorry. I should have sent you home yesterday.”
So I was stuck with Nathaniel for a few extra days. It beat being stuck inside the apartment—
“Felicia,” I whispered. I had her car!
“She’s with Jackson,” Nathaniel said. “I talked with him not long ago—he picked her up yesterday. She’ll be okay.”
I nodded. Felicia was perfectly fine with Jackson, and I liked the idea of her being with him instead of holed up at the apartment.
“We need to discuss guidelines for the week,” Nathaniel said. “I thought it would be easier to talk if you had clothes on.”
That explained the kitchen table—he wanted my opinion.
“I thought we could split the meals up, I’ll take one, you take the next.” He looked at me and I nodded. “I’ll be working most of the time, so I want you to make yourself at home. The house is open to you except for my two rooms.”
Guess that meant I wouldn’t be sleeping in his bed.
“My rules stand,” he continued. “You can use the gym and yoga DVDs. I expect you to call me ‘sir’, but I don’t expect anything from you sexually. I don’t believe sleep will be an issue. You’ll get your eight hours.”
Snowed in with Nathaniel. Crazy Abby was turning cartwheels. Rational Abby had a nagging suspicion it might not be such a good idea.
“Do you have any questions?” he asked.
“Yes. You don’t expect anything sexual, but you didn’t say no sex. Does that mean there’s a possibility of sex?”
