Thirty-One
“ I assume you heard the news from Jeremiah.”
“Oh, most definitely,” Jaz answers after a laugh. “He told me everything in very enthusiastic detail.”
“I bet he did,” I reply just as I turn my car into Rome’s stone driveway and come to a stop.
Jaz lets out a long sigh, and although I can't see her face through the speakers of my car, I imagine she has her eyebrows raised as high as the top of the roof in front of me.
“So, you're doing this, huh?” she asks. “Even after the mind games he was playing with you before? You're sure?”
I smile as I look up at Rome’s house, remembering what is down in the basement and how we used it together. Memories work like caffeine making my heart race and I know that there is no turning back now. We’ve started, and there isn't a hair on my head that wants to stop.
“Yeah, we’re doing this,” I reply. “Rome and I have talked and he explained a lot. There’s a bunch of stuff attached to him that I didn't know before, and now that I know more I feel better. I understand his reasoning.”
“He has a bunch of stuff attached to him? You mean baggage?”
“Well, I wouldn't say baggage,” I say, trying to correct myself before Jaz can pick up a negative theory about Rome and run with it. “He has been through some really traumatic stuff that has led him to be the man he is. I'm just saying that I know what that stuff is, and it makes sense. He wasn't playing mind games with me, I promise you that. You already know I've been through enough bullshit, and there's no way I would just sit back and let another man shit all over me just because the sex is good.”
Jaz scoffs. “First of all, good sex will make you do a lot of crazy things. Secondly, I don't want you to think that I'm hating on your new boo. I just want you to be cautious of the way he was acting in the beginning. I want to see you happy, and I’ll definitely set something of his on fire if he strips you of that happiness. You've been hunting for a good man for a long time, and I just don't want you to be blinded by the idea of having finally found one.”
“Blinded? You think I want to be with Rome because I'm desperate?”
“What? Of course not,” Jaz answers quickly. “I know you're not desperate, but you have been searching for a long time while having some pretty tragic results. Going through that could make you eager to attach yourself to something. That’s all I'm saying. I just want you to be careful.”
Wrinkles as deep as ravines scatter across my forehead as I shut off the ignition to my car. Maybe I'm crazy, but it sounded like Jazmine just called me desperate in the nicest way possible. I finally find someone who is exactly what I've been looking for, and now I'm being judged by my best friend for it.
“I'm being careful,” I snip. “And I'm not eager to attach myself to something either. Rome and I like each other, and we've taken the time to talk and work things out. He explained his issues, and now that I know more about who he is and what he has been through, I’m good. There's a lot that you don't know. But don't get it twisted—I'm not with him because I'm desperate. I'm with him because I want to be.”
“I know … I … I know,” Jaz replies, her tone shrouded in sympathy and regret as she senses my attitude through the phone and tries to keep the conversation upright, but it teeters with my growing sense of feeling judged. “Again, I'm not saying you're desperate. I know you're not. Look, get yours, Nia. You're a grown woman and you know what you want. You always have, and I'm so glad that you've found what you've been looking for. Just … this is the last thing I’ll say about it … now that you have the thing you've always wanted, be careful not to get lost in it. Alright? That’s it, I’m done. Go have fun, girl, and don't forget to tell me all of the details. I love you, Nia.”
A pregnant pause sits between us while I try to force myself to respond. What am I hearing? On one hand, I know that Jaz is concerned for me. We’ve been best friends our entire lives, and I know she would gladly sneak into Rome’s house and murder him in his sleep if he hurt me. But on the other hand … could it be that she is so used to watching me flail about, constantly complaining about being single that she's uncomfortable now that I'm not? I've been the butt of their jokes for so long. Maybe they thought I'd always be the one they could look at with sympathetic faces while laughing at the joke that was my love life. I don't know for sure, but I’ll definitely be tuned in from now on, making sure that my friends are actually happy for me.
“I love you, too, Jaz,” I reply joylessly. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
“Okay. Bye.”
When the call ends, I'm not sure how to feel. I don't want to be one of those people who sinks so far into a new relationship that they can no longer see the rest of the world, their vision clouded by their inability to see past their new sense of happiness. But Rome and I are brand new. I should be allowed to go all-out right now, to announce at the top of my lungs that there is hope for people like me, especially after the shitty relationships I've been through. I'm thirty years old. Haven't I earned the right to cheer for myself when I find success and happiness? I've spent countless nights jotting down my frustrations in my diary, writing it all with so much passion and detail that any random sub could find it and use it as a guide for themselves. I've been in the trenches taking grenades for so long that I don't care what anybody else thinks anymore. I earned this moment, and I'm going to embrace it. Fuck what anybody else thinks.
I have to push my annoyance aside as I step out of the car, but once I'm out, it falls off of me like shedded skin. I refuse to be bogged down by the implications of desperation or worry. I'm standing in front of Rome’s house. He's my Dom, and there is a whole new world of excitement waiting for me inside.
When I ring the doorbell, Rome rounds a corner down the hall and approaches the door wearing nothing but a black robe and a villainous smirk. We lock eyes through the glass as he comes forward, and I'm already anxious to be on the other side with him. After our little text exchange at the office, all I've been able to think about is the next time I’ll have his hands on me, his fingers pressing into my skin and the warmth of his breath in my neck. I've been craving him, dying to repeat what we did in the video he made me touch myself to. Now that I'm here, I'm not even interested in dinner. I don't need to be wined and dined right now. I simply want to be used by him.
The door unlocks and swings open, and the second that there is enough space, Rome’s hand comes flying out. He grabs me by the throat and pulls me inside, slamming the door shut and pushing my back against the glass. I struggle to breathe beneath his grip as he squeezes and forces his mouth against mine, lustful passion flowing through us like electrical currents. I melt in his hands, softening and submitting in an instant. Just like that, my guard is down and the rest of the world no longer exists. There is only him.
Rome slowly pulls his mouth away from me, his jaw tight as he stares at me with his predatory gaze. I don't speak. I simply swallow hard and wait for my Dom to command me.
“I've been waiting for this all day,” he says in a voice so low it’s more like a growl. “That video you sent of your pussy was so unbelievable—it made me so hard I could barely stand it. I fucking loved it … however, I didn't ask you to send it. I told you to go into the bathroom and use our video to make yourself come. I never said to send me proof.” Rome’s fingers tighten like a vice. “When I give you instructions, you follow them to a T. You don't deviate or add to them to satisfy yourself. Do you understand?”
I want to smile, but something tells me it wouldn't be a good idea. I'm not upset that he’s pressing me about the video. I know he loved it because he said so, but he's also establishing a rule that I must obey as his submissive. When he wants something from me, he’ll ask for it. My job is only to do what he says, and I fucking love that he’s setting this boundary. Most people don't know it, but this is what BDSM is all about.
Rome loosens his grip on my throat enough for me to answer, “Yes, Sir.”
“Good,” he says. “Now tell me—who is in charge?”
I smirk at the memory of the first time he asked me this question in my office. It sent fire through my veins then and heats me up even more now that we’re together.
“You are, Sir,” I answer.
“Say it again,” he orders as his fingers slide up my leg and graze my pussy.
I quiver with anticipation. “You're in charge, Sir.”
“Good girl,” he says before biting his plump lower lip. “Now get down into the playroom. I have big plans for you, my little goddess.”