Alex and Emma

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PART 9: BLURRED LINES

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We spent most of Sunday in his office, not even breaking for lunch. I just let him work. And he just let me be by his side, whether kneeling or sitting when my knees grew tired. I even took a cat nap curled up at his feet. I woke up to find a blanket over me and throw pillow between my head and his bare foot.

By mid-afternoon, my stomach was growling...as were lower parts of my body. Now that Alex had awakened the dragon after her long slumber, she wasn't about to be put back in her cage for too long. At least not so easily. She'd gotten a taste of his flesh, and she wanted more. A lot more.

I moved from the floor, stretching to get the kinks out. Which made me pause and giggle. Could a kinky person ever become un-kinky again?

"Working, here," Alex mumbled.

I rolled my eyes at him and reclined on the couch by his desk. I still only wore his black-and-white striped dress shirt, the cuffs still rolled up once to my wrists from his earlier bondage. And I'd left it open after our long session. So now, stretched out on my left side facing him, my breasts were bared—as was my pussy—while I read a magazine I'd found on the bookshelf.

There was a soft groan and then, "Button that."

Smirking, I did one button just below my breasts that brought them together and pushed them up. Then I lay back and returned to the magazine, lifting it so it covered only my face.

"Vixen."

I smiled wider. Especially when I heard the squeak of leather from his chair. I peaked around the edge of my magazine and saw him adjusting his crotch.

He lasted another couple of minutes before I heard him sigh deeply.

"What's wrong?" I bit back another giggle.

"I'm almost finished with this, but there's a huge distraction that is making it difficult to focus."

I frowned as I sat up. "I'm sorry. I'll stop bothering you. I was just teasing."

"I know. I'm sorry, too. I told you to come over this weekend, but I've got—"

"Don't finish that thought. We both agreed that your classes and my job take precedence." I stood and stepped behind his chair so he couldn't see me. "I'm going to go."

His chair spun around, and he caught my hips in his hands, whispering, "Please don't."

I put my hands on his head when he rested it against my belly. Ran my fingers through his hair, to which he sighed. I said softly, "It's for the best. You've made good progress today, it seems. I don't want to be the one to derail a speeding train."

"Maybe just for another hour? I'm almost done."

I was going to insist I head home, but he chose that moment to tilt his head and look up at me. If his hands hadn't been holding me, I would have fallen to the floor. As it was, I staggered a little and gasped.

In his blue depths, I saw a storm of both control and submission. Vulnerability yet strength. And ultimately, desire. It was all so fucking sexy it made my whole body hurt. I wanted to ease the ache and answer the silent plea that I could see calling to me in his.

Was that how I looked to him in that position? How could he stand the intensity of it? It rocked me to my core, and not just physically.

His fingers tightened, bringing my focus back to him. He stared unblinking at me. Patiently waiting.

I knew I couldn't resist him. Deny him. So I brushed his hair back from his forehead and smiled. "Okay. I'll come get you at five to eat dinner."

The grin that lit up his face shone bright in his eyes. Briefly lighting up the depths, which made me want to explore them all the more.

He blinked slowly. "But put something more on. You're too tantalizing walking around like that. I'll want to be able to eat my food."

I laughed fully now and leaned down, kissing the top of his head.

He released me after another brief squeeze on my hips. And then he smacked my ass as I turned away.

"Cheeky!" I cried, hurrying out of his office.

###

I used his shower to get cleaned up then left to go to the market. As much as I liked what we'd had so far to eat, we needed some real sustenance. Or at least I did.

When I returned, I switched back into his dress shirt just to tease him then set about preparing dinner for the two of us.

The chicken breasts were already in the oven to bake, and I had started on a salad when I heard the deep clearing of a throat behind me over the music on my iPhone that I'd set to keep me company. I smiled, wondering how long he had been standing there.

"I thought I told you to put something more on."

I set down the knife from chopping vegetables and flipped up the back of the shirt's hem. "I put on a thong. I wasn't wearing any panties before."

A growl met my ears just before Alex's hands slid around my waist and pulled me backwards. He nuzzled my neck, holding my ass against his groin, grinding a little. Letting me know he was getting hard.

"You are such a fucking tease, Emma."

"I'm your fucking tease, Alex." I sighed at the admission. I'd used his name barely a handful of times since we'd met. It sounded nice on my lips. Though I was still partial to referring to him as Sir.

"Mmm. Yes, you are." He kissed my jaw. "Keep working."

I resumed chopping a cucumber and moved on to peppers with amazingly steady hands. I had just wedged a tomato and set the knife down again when the song changed to Ed Sheeran's "Make It Rain."

Alex's hands slid up and captured my breasts, making me gasp and rock back a little. Gently but subtly, his thumbs and forefingers closed in on my nipples, stroking and pinching through the fabric of the shirt. "Mmm. No bra. Naughty girl. Did you go out to the market like this?"

"No, Sir," I breathed, my hands fisting on the countertop. My eyes clenched at the rush of arousal shooting to my core.

When he started moving his hands in slow motion, matching the music, I leaned my head back against his shoulder and closed my eyes. His fingers spread out, his palms sliding over top of my breasts now, making the fabric rub against my tight and sensitive nipples. Cupping, squeezing, teasing.

I bit my lip, feeling my pussy clench and get wet. I fucking loved it.

As the song went on, so did his hands. Slowly lowering, caressing my belly. First on top of the shirt then underneath after he unbuttoned it, punctuating each button release with a kiss on my neck that was in time with each delayed and pronounced guitar stroke marking the beat. Back up to my breasts again, now that they were free. Rolling, pinching, worshipping.

I got so lost in the music that I didn't realize he had put a hand down the front of my thong before he'd slipped a finger through my pussy and had already removed it.

He took advantage of my gasp by slipping his middle finger into my mouth.

I sucked by instinct, tasting my own arousal. Moaning, I rubbed my ass against him, feeling that his bulge had grown.

The song ended and switched to something much faster. I figured his little dance of kitchen seduction was over as well. I should have known better.

"How long until dinner's ready?" he whispered in my ear, still holding me to him, his finger gently sliding back and forth between my lips.

I managed to crack an eye at the clock on the stove and mumbled, "Fifteen minutes."

"Perfect." He removed his right hand, but his left one still covered and squeezed my breast.

I glanced down to see him playing with my phone just before the current song cut out and changed to "It's No Good" by Depeche Mode. My groan of delight was low, accentuated by a grind of my ass against him. It was a good fucking song. Literally.

Today was a day of testing my expectations. Instead of cupping and fingering my pussy—or thrusting his cock into me from behind—his right hand closed around my throat. He held my head to his shoulder, his thumb stroking the skin beneath it. His left released my breast only to rub across my bared belly. My hip. My thigh. Back up to my breast.

As the song played out, he slowly set me on fire without ever touching me where I was burning most.

I thought maybe he'd finally give me some relief as the second song came to a close, but he kept up the torment when "Chainsmoking" by Jacob Banks blared out of the phone's speakers. If anything, he upped the arousal by cupping my chin with his right hand and thrusting his thumb into my mouth. Keeping it open while he pressed against my tongue and his erection rubbed against my ass, which was now trapped against him and the counter.

My mind was lost to the music. My body was strummed so easily by his hands that I would have done anything he asked to keep it singing. The only thing that seemed to stop Alex from doing just that was the timer going off.

I whimpered at his sudden release. Shrieked when I felt him drop down behind me and bite my right ass cheek. I was rocking forward when he smacked me on the left cheek and picked up a piece of red sweet pepper off the cutting board.

"Don't burn my dinner."

Over my shoulder, I saw him backing away, the vegetable at his mouth. He bit off half, pointed the rest at me, and raised an eyebrow. I nodded my understanding.

"And put on some real pants before you come to the dinner table." Then he was gone.

Somehow, I managed to get the chicken out of the oven without dropping the pan. It took at least two minutes to collect myself, eyes closed while I concentrated on breathing slower, deeper. I put the salad together, plated up the two servings of chicken Kiev, and set everything on the table. Back in his bedroom, I got dressed in the second set of clothes I'd packed...including a bra. It was a safe bet that it would get us through dinner. Though I had visions of the outfit ending up on the floor before he took me on the table.

I knocked on the closed door to the bathroom—where I assumed he'd disappeared to since the office was empty—and called that dinner was ready before pouring us both a glass of the wine I'd bought. Then I sat at the table in the same chair I'd used Friday night. My back to the bedroom hallway, I waited with my hands folded on my lap.

With no music in the background, his footfalls gave away his approach a minute later. He put his hands on my shoulders and kissed the top of my head. "This smells delicious."

"Thank you." I waited until he sat to take some of the salad then offered him the bowl.

Alex was silent as he dished up some for himself, his eyes on me. He frowned at one point, but then he had no expression at all.

I cut into my chicken and watched the butter sauce ooze out onto the plate. "Did you get a lot done?"

"Yes."

"That's good." I swallowed a piece of meat and sighed softly. It was one of my favorite meals, despite the prep work needed. I speared a tomato with a forkful of lettuce and lifted it to my mouth. "Do you have a busy schedule this week?"

"Yes."

It was after my second bite of chicken when I was reaching for my glass of wine that I glanced up to see him pushing a pile of salad from one side to the other and back again on his plate. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes."

With a shaky hand, I set the glass down. "Alex?"

He finally ate a bite of salad, chewing slowly.

"Tell me." When he still didn't look up or speak, I took that sip of wine and decided I wouldn't push it.

We ate the rest of dinner in absolute silence. It was a bit disconcerting, to say the least, given the mood he'd been in not ten minutes ago. And he'd seemed fine when he came to the table. Something had changed, though, once he sat down.

Did he not like what I'd made? Had I not done something he wanted? Because, I hadn't said enough to give cause that I'd messed up that way.

As concerning as the quiet was, it also allowed me time to think. To consider that as much as I'd enjoyed my weekend with him, maybe Alex was just too young for me. He was at the age where school still required most of his time. I could go a little bit older and still have a younger partner, like only five to ten years my senior instead of almost twenty.

Then there was the question of his possible immaturity...evidenced by this most recent mood swing that seemed to be related to me somehow. It was the only thing that made sense. But he refused to talk about it. Which infuriated me. Children pouted. Adults discussed the problem to find a resolution.

But being older didn't necessarily make one more mature. I'd learned that before with one potential Dom my same age. Which is why he had not actually become my Dominant partner.

I finished my food and sighed. I'd chalk up the weekend as a learning experience. A very satisfying one sexually speaking, but otherwise disappointing. Primarily because I still wasn't sure about dominating him. Better to leave now than get too emotionally involved and make it harder to walk away later.

I was at the sink washing dishes when he finally decided to say more than the same word over and over. When he gave me a clue about what had flipped his mental switch.

"You changed your clothes."

The hot water pelted the back of my hand, the sponge going still against the drying butter residue on my plate. I wanted to look back, but I didn't think I could bear to see the forlorn look in his eyes that would match the same emotion I could hear in his voice. With a deep sigh, I returned to scrubbing.

"You told me to put real pants on. So I did."

"But you took off my shirt."

"Yes, I did." Just barely stopping myself from slamming the plate on the floor, I rinsed it off and set it in the drying rack. But I did twist the life out of the sponge, gritting my teeth. He was pouting because I'd changed my fucking clothes?

"You said you'd stay."

That was it! I tossed the sponge into the dirty dish water and turned to him, hands fisted.

"I'm still here, aren't I?" I pointed at the table where half of his meal still sat, now cold. "I stayed...gave you more than the hour you requested. Not to mention, I just cooked you a damn dinner that you've all but ignored."

He glanced down then back up at me. "I'm sorry. Thank you for cooking."

"Damnit, Alex! I'm not looking for thanks."

"Then what—"

"You! Exclusive, intimate time with you. It's all I've wanted since you contacted me on Wednesday. And I got the clear impression that you wanted it, too. That you were available."

"I do." His forehead creased while he shook his head slightly. "I am."

"No, you're not. I've been patient. Probably more than I should be."

"I don't understand."

Somehow, I refrained from rolling my eyes. "You said you were going to be here all weekend, and you were hoping I'd come over...stay with you. So I did. But you checked out on me both yesterday morning and most of today."

"I had to finish—"

"Yes, I know. You have work for...well, work. And school. I get it. But if you need to focus on that and not me, just say so. Because I'm not going to be your housekeeper. They've got apps to find someone for that. And I've done the whole live-in sex partner thing. It's not my style. I don't fancy lying around half-naked waiting for my partner to come use me when it fits his will or time schedule."

"I didn't say you had to."

"You didn't have to. It's been obvious by your actions. And then there's whatever this is." I waved my hand between the two of us. "Sinking into depression because I took your shirt off? Come on, Alex."

He sat up. "What are you saying?"

Seriously? I grunted and walked out of the room. I'd already decided that I was leaving after dinner, hence dressing in my own clothes. I just hadn't expected it to be this soon...in this manner...or to be a permanent departure. We'd make out. Maybe play a little. And then I'd insist he get some real sleep because he probably had classes tomorrow. He'd kiss me again, beg me not to leave, and I'd... I don't know what I would have done at that point. My daydreaming hadn't gotten that far yet.

And it would have to stay a daydream because I needed more than what he was he was able to give me right now. It was a rash decision based on a single, silly mood change, but it was enough for me after what I'd been through with other Dominants. I was already getting too attached...

He was still sitting in his chair when I returned a minute later with my bag. Though he stood when I scooped up my laptop off the coffee table. "Where are you going?"

Turning with a deep sigh, I laid it out there so there was no more confusion. "Home, Alex. This is goodbye. I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm not. I had a great time, what time we've actually spent together. But you're not ready for the commitment this lifestyle requires. I just think..."

His face seemed to harden with darkened eyes and clenched jaw. "What, Emma? You're on a roll."

I almost told him I was too old for him, but honestly, age had nothing to do with it. I sighed again and shrugged my shoulders.

"Our needs are too different. Our current lives. You're a great person. Really. You just can't have two priorities. You said it yourself. College is more important than having a sex partner. Not in those exact words, but it was what you'd meant. And you're right. So focus on that." I opened the door and took a final glance back. "You're almost at the finish line. After that, revisit Domination when you're able to set a schedule that will allow you to dedicate appropriate time to your partner. Even if all you do is lie around the house together."

"Stop, Lit—"

I closed the door behind me and hurried out the building's rear door to my car before he could catch me. Before I changed my mind.

Even with the heat turned all of the way up in the car, I couldn't shake the chills that settled in the moment I pulled out of the lot. Thankfully, traffic was light, and I got home in record time.

Stripping, I took the hottest shower I could tolerate just to feel warm. Then I took two OTC sleep-aid pills, knowing I never dreamed with them in my system, and crawled beneath the blankets of my bed.

###

Monday morning, I was tempted to stay home. Especially, since every muscle and joint ached. Like my jaw. And knees. But I knew going to the office would help keep my mind on other things.

So I popped some ibuprofen, turned the stereo up, and drowned myself in editing until six. Not coming up even for lunch. I grabbed fast food for dinner then crashed shortly after arriving home and taking more sleep-aids.

Tuesday was the same. Wake. Work. Eat. Pop two. Sleep.

Except that I did a lot more moping because it was fucking Valentine's Day. I'd always hated the holiday. Although I'd not even thought about it in regards to Alex and I, I couldn't help but wonder now what could have been if we'd stayed together. Other than seeing him performing tonight at his slam poetry event, that is.

I felt much better the next morning. Surprisingly, this regimen was working. I knew that in no time, I'd have him out of my system. Like overcoming a hangover. The drinking had been great, but the aftereffects? Not so much. I just had to be...patient. I was starting to hate that word.

By Thursday morning, though, I was feeling less confident about this new way to get over a guy. Despite the lack of dreams or awake time where I could ruminate in my memories before I drifted off, little things during the day still reminded me of him. Like noticing the placement of my hands while innocently showering. The smell of the shirt I'd worn to his place that had somehow absorbed some of his cologne while tangled up together with his clothes on the floor. The lyrics to music on my iPod. Or things I read in a story I was editing.

I had refused to work on my personal writing lest that actually remind me of whom I'd been discussing it with. But when I was cleaning out my Email, I choked up at seeing the message to Alex in my Sent box with a snippet of said story. I couldn't help opening it...reading it...feeling aroused by the contents. Imagining Alex was the male character doing those things to me. And I couldn't forget what he'd said about those parts I'd shared.