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PART 10: THE BEST LAID PLANS
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Get in. Get out. Get on with my life.
I'd take a lunch break—for once this week—and check to see if his car was in his spot. If not...execute. If so, abort and mail the fucking key because then I'd have the street name.
It should have been that simple. That perfect.
Except life usually laughed at me when I had those thoughts. Because, well, nothing is ever simple for me. Nor perfect. And right now, the bitch was laughing her ass off, rolling around on the floor.
I stood outside Alex's door, key in hand, staring at said floor. At the lack of any space at all between the bottom of the door and the threshold. What the hell?
Even the door to my apartment had a slight gap. It let sounds and scents in all the time...as well as heat and air conditioning out. This was student apartments, and they were better made? Then again, mine was in an old part of the city. Hence the hefty price tag.
I sighed for about the tenth time. I'd already had to adjust because of a conference call with a new client that ran long over when I would normally take lunch. By the time we were done, I'd forgotten about my plan until it was almost time to call it a day. I thought I'd lucked out that the space for number four was empty outside. But now this?
One half of my brain said I should just leave and put the key in the mail. The other half said I was already here. Go in, put it on the counter, and then leave.
Sensibility said to choose option A. Logic picked B.
I didn't hesitate...until I was inside and staring at the kitchen counter. At the dishes in the drying rack. He'd not put them away. Strange, seeing how the rest of the place was so put together, minus the top of his desk in his office and his toy drawer.
Granted, he could have dirtied the dishes since Sunday. But I was siding with the probability that he'd not used two different plates, wine glasses, a salad bowl, and a baking dish himself in the past five days. Not when I'd seen what he made for his meals.
My eyes moved over to the other side of the sink where a cutting board sat with a knife on it. Exactly where I'd left them to dry, as well. I shut the door and wandered over, staring down at the two innocuous items that had no idea they were vessels for memories. Sexually frustrated ones at that.
I set the key down and ran my finger along the edge of the counter. Remembering. Biting my lip to stop my moan. Closing my eyes, though that only made the memories stronger.
My feet had a mind of their own, and I found myself walking down the hallway to the rooms at the back of the apartment. I lingered in the doorway to the bathroom. Where he'd brought me to prove I was or wasn't wearing underwear. Where I'd been punished, both by a spanking and orgasm denial.
That was exactly a week ago.
With a shaky sigh, I moved on to his bedroom. Stepping inside this time. Taking in the neatness of his made bed. The lack of clothes on the chair by the door where I had found his dress shirt last weekend. Then on to the dresser where I noticed the immaculate top void of any accessories. Pulling open the third drawer on the right, I slowly touched various items within. My fingertips shook when I grazed them over the falls of the suede flogger.
I quickly closed the drawer and meant to turn to leave. But the reflection in the mirror made me pause. It only revealed a fraction of the bed, yet it was enough.
Although I did eventually turn, it was only to lean back against the dresser, my arms crossed and my knees trembling. I could still picture him stretched and bound to the four corners. Blindfolded and waiting. His naked body calm except for his erect cock that occasionally twitched.
My nipples puckered the longer I thought about that image...about his cock. And then my pussy clenched at the memory of what I'd done to him to him on that bed. What he'd done to me.
I don't know how much time passed, but I eventually shook my head to clear my thoughts and left the room. But I paused in the hall outside of the other bedroom. His makeshift office.
That's where my breath hitched.
The top of his desk was cleared except for a closed laptop and a lamp. The stacks of books I'd been told not to knock over? The piles of what I supposed were assignments or manuscripts he was working on? All gone.
As I rounded the desk, I stroked the back of his leather chair. Remembering here, as well. I choked out a soft sob when I looked down. At my feet was one of the throw pillows from the couch. In the same spot that I'd knelt at his feet. That I'd felt the most relaxed.
I'd knelt at other Doms' feet many a time. But never had they made me feel...loved. Did that make sense? Was that even possible after knowing Alex after such a short time?
Something inside of me trembled. As it spread out, taking over my whole body, I pulled out his chair to sit down and leaned my head on my arms. Then I sobbed. Loudly. With sloppy tears. Cries full of anguish and frustration. Heart-wrenching groans that made me wrap my arms around myself to feel even the slightest bit of security.
I wished for his mess to be back on the glossy desktop so I could swipe it off and scream. I was an adult. Adults didn't act like this. Feel like this. He was a kid. A kid who had gotten under my skin, but a kid all the same. What I should do was get out of this chair and get out of this apartment.
Yet what I should do and what I needed to do—wanted to do—were not the same.
Drying my eyes with the back of my hand and a bit with the sleeve of my shirt, I stood and righted his chair. Then I proceeded to undress, neatly folding each piece and piling it on the desk opposite the computer and light.
When I was naked, I knelt on the pillow beside the desk chair. Bum on heels, palms flat on top of my thighs. I took a deep, cleansing breath...and waited.
I closed my eyes after about ten minutes. Felt my muscles relax. Until I heard the front door open.
Oh, fuck.
My heart beat faster with the sound of his shoes hitting the hardwood in the other room, and then footsteps that weren't as heavy because he'd probably toed off his shoes. There was a casualness about them, moving as though in no hurry to come down the hall. Intentionally making me wait.
Maybe he hadn't known if I'd actually come—possibly worried I wouldn't. But he would have gotten his answer the moment he got home. He would have seen my car in spot number eight because I'd foolishly parked there instead of up the street or around the block. Then again, I had expected to run in to return the key and leave.
I clenched my fists then slowly released them with a shaky exhale. I struggled with forcing my eyes open and keeping them closed. Both wanting and not wanting to see the expression on his face when he noticed me.
And he would notice me. At least my head. The desk blocked my body from the hallway. But he would know that I'd followed all of his orders by my clothes on the desk. That I was naked.
The moment he finally walked down the hallway, I held my breath. I managed to get and keep my eyes open, but I'd chickened out and dropped my chin before I could see him.
And then I gasped. Because he walked right past the office...and shut his bedroom door.
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Resolved that he was going to draw this out, I settled in for the long haul. It was several minutes before I heard his door open. His footfalls—now bare feet— slapping against the wood floor. My pulse picked up when they stopped outside the office door. Then they eventually whispered across the carpet and approached from the other side of the chair.
I held my breath when the chair was pulled out. While he sat down, the leather squeaking slightly under his weight. While he put his hand on my head, gently applying pressure until I rested my right cheek on his thigh.
That's when I let out a whimper, my exhale shaking my whole body.
"Shh, Little One."
For the longest time, he just stroked my hair. It was unexpected, but I wasn't complaining. Because it was incredibly relaxing, both physically and mentally. So much so that I didn't comprehend his words at first when he spoke again.
"I'm sorry for how I acted last weekend. You were absolutely right. About all of it. Especially with your decision to leave. I was inconsiderate in so many ways. You deserved to be treated better. With more respect. And I deserved to lose you."
I turned to look up at him, his hand falling to rest on my shoulder. Blinking, I replayed his words in my head...his apology. It was sincere. I saw it in his glossy eyes while he gazed down at me.
His voice choked up when he continued. "But I want to make it right. I need to make it right. Because I think there is so much promise with the two of us. The prospect of cultivating that...I admit, it makes my blood pump faster. My cock hard."
I sucked in my breath. And then I shivered when his fingers stroked slower, all along my neck.
"Please forgive me, Little One." His hand cupped my chin, his thumb stroking my bottom lip. "I want to believe that your presence here tonight...as you are...means you're giving me another chance. My previous actions don't warrant it. But I would be grateful if you did choose to grant me grace."
A stray tear trickled down my cheek when I blinked. Before he could move his hand to swipe it away, I captured his thumb between my teeth. Deep down, I guess I had hoped it would end like this. It's why I had convinced myself I should come inside. Why I had stripped and knelt in his office, per his request. Why I was staring up at him and sucking on his thumb, wishing it was his cock. That the firm thigh pressed against my breast was rubbing between my own legs.
The heat in Alex's gaze reflected the emotions I was sending his way. Then he licked his lips. Moved his thumb, simulating other actions.
I turned, keeping hold of his thumb still, and knelt facing him. My breasts on either side of his knee. My knees flanking his foot. Keeping my eyes on his, my hands behind my back now.
His breathing escalated. Slowly, he extracted his digit and scooted the chair back. Stood. Undressed. Dropping T-shirt, jeans, and boxers off to the side in succession. Then he picked up my clothes and dropped them indifferently on top of his pile.