Chapter 43
Isabelle
I roll over, my arm naturally reaching for James’ solid chest, craving the warmth of his skin against mine, but instead, I find cool cotton sheets.
And no James.
He must have got up a while ago. I slip out of bed, tying my dressing gown around me against the chill of the morning, and go downstairs. His kitchen is empty, and his shoes are missing from the porch, his keys gone from the hallway table. Concerned, I grab my phone and send him a text.
An hour goes by with no reply from him, and I start to worry.
Anxiety claws at me. What if he’s been in an accident?
What if the pressure became too much for him?
The fact we’ve only been together for a few weeks weighs heavily on me, and the realisation that maybe I don’t know him well enough to know how his mental health would be affected.
Alexandra Ravensbrook
I turn the phone over in my hand as I will it to make any kind of sound.
Finally, I decided to send another text.
Isabelle: James, please reply. At least let me know you’re okay? I’m worried about you.
Two blue ticks appear next to the message. He’s read it. What the hell?
No reply comes back. A mix of fear but also annoyance flares through me. He’s left me on read. His Domme. His queen. That is unacceptable, and I'll need to remind him of that.
Isabelle: James, have you forgotten who you belong to? You’re mine, and I expect you to answer me when I ask you a question. Let me know you’re ok, or I WILL make you suffer the consequences.
Two blue ticks appear, as well as the three dots of his typing.
James: I’m sorry, just in the middle of something. I needed a walk. I’m all good, and I promise I will make it up to you for ignoring your message. X
Hmm… A thought comes to mind for this evening’s entertainment. James seems to have forgotten the rules we set down. I am his Domme, and I expect him to show me the respect due, to listen to me and answer me. This
Yes, Miss
whole situation has muddied the waters somewhat, but it is time to wrest it back and re-establish the ground rules.
My phone pings again, and a photo comes through.
It’s James, takeaway coffee in hand, sitting near the lake at the park.
He looks happy, his smile beautiful—the little crinkles by his eyes, the stubble on his jaw, his hair windswept over his brow.
His deep, dark eyes sparkle in the autumn light, and some text appears under the photo.
James: Love you, baby. I’ll do anything for my queen. I’ll do everything in my power to protect you and honour you. With you by my side, we will never fail. X X
Maybe I won’t be too tough on him, but it’s time for some serious playtime and to test these boundaries.
Right after another day at school, without James, waiting for the council’s decision.
I step out of my car, hoisting my bag out of the front seat, looking towards the front of James’ house.
The lights are on, and it strikes me just how natural it feels to be coming home to his house.
I barely spend an evening at my own place anymore, not that I miss that nosy cow next door, and Vic has begun staying more often to enjoy the club.
There’s a particular gentleman who’s apparently caught her eye, and her happy humming in the morning hasn’t gone unnoticed.
Alexandra Ravensbrook
As I approach the door, the low hum of nineties indie music drifts out, and the smell of gorgeous tomatoes and herbs wafts through the air as I open the door, making my stomach growl.
I put down my bag and hang up my jacket, walking into the kitchen, drooling over something else entirely at the sight of James in black combat pants, slung low on his hips, and a tight grey t-shirt that hugs every inch of his solid, stocky torso.
His hair is wet and swept back off his face, with just one rogue strand over his eye. He turns and smiles at me, raising a glass of red in my direction.
“Hey, baby, I poured you a glass ready. Tea will be twenty minutes,” he says, walking slowly over to me, holding my gaze.
My eyes travel over his body, appreciating every part, watching as his strong, thick torso ripples under his shirt, his frame imposing but a shelter of safety and comfort for me.
His warm citrus scent washes over me, and all thoughts of the day disappear like a feather caught in the wind.
His hand comes up to my chin, tilting my head to look him in the eye as he smiles down at me, his lips brushing against mine in a soft kiss, a promise of more to come. My attention snags on his grazed hand.
“What’s this?” I ask, my fingers stroking over his knuckles, some swelling noticeable around the grazes.
Yes, Miss
“It’s fine, just caught it today whilst I was out,” he says as his eyes dart away from mine. He’s hiding something, but I’ll get it out of him eventually. “Go get showered and relax. I’ll shout you when it’s ready.” He turns and walks back to the stovetop, his fine ass keeping me staring.
That ass is mine tonight. He doesn’t know it yet, but it is.
The steam of the shower wraps around me as I wash the day away, the music still playing downstairs, the sound of dishes clinking adding its own percussion.
The hot water runs down my body, rinsing away the bubbles of my soap, when a sudden cool breeze hits me as the bathroom door opens. My gorgeous man walks in and leans against the bathroom countertop.
“Can I help you?” I laugh, wiping away the steam on the shower door.
“Dinner’s ready. But you look like the perfect appetiser.” He winks, sending shivers down my skin. Good God, this man makes me feral.
“Best get your ass in here and eat up, big boy,” I purr, wanting him between my thighs and on his knees, giving me that amazing tongue of his.
He strips off quickly and steps in, shutting the glass door behind him. His wide, strong frame forces me against the wall, the cold tiles pressing against my back as he
Alexandra Ravensbrook
looks down at me, the water running in rivulets down his shoulders, little drops catching on his chest hair. I trail my fingers over his shoulder and pec muscles, tracing the outline of the forest he has inked there.
His hands roam in light swirls up my inner thigh, my whole body lighting up, ready for his mouth. I push his shoulder down, and he lowers to his knees, his eyes never leaving mine. Kneeling there in the shower, his hair soaked and his skin glistening, I’ve never seen a more stunning sight.
I lift my leg up and rest it on his shoulder, his hands gripping me tight around my hips as he pushes his tongue between my labia.
I sigh like I’ve been waiting for this moment all day.
Water slides down my stomach, glistening between my folds, and then he leans in.
The first tender flick of his tongue against my sensitive flesh makes my hips roll forward with a helpless little grind.
“That’s it, baby. So good for me,” I moan, my voice raspy and thick with desire for my man. Threading my fingers through his damp locks, he looks up at me as his tongue starts to draw long, slow, lazy circles over my throbbing clit.
“Oh, yes,” I breathe, fingers tightening slightly in his hair. “Slow circles, just like I love. Feel how wet I am for you?” He answers with another soft stroke, and I moan at the sensation, the perfect balance of pressure and
Yes, Miss
devotion. This isn’t just him on his knees worshipping me or my pussy; it’s intimacy painted in heat and water.
His tongue traces a hot path from my clit to my entrance, slow and deliberate.
I arch into it, whispering, “Good boy. You know exactly how to make me melt.” He hums against me, never taking his mouth from my pussy, and the vibration shivers through my core, making my thighs tremble.
I run my hand down his back, feeling the water ripple over his skin.
“You were made for this, weren’t you? For me. So eager. Such a perfect boy.”
He slides his hands around my hips, holding me steady as I grind down onto his mouth.
Each movement is a slow, luxurious glide, like feeling soft silk sheets against bare skin, his tongue swirling, pressing, tasting every pulse of arousal I give him.
He curls the very tip of his tongue inside me, and I gasp. “Yes. Just like that.”
His tongue moves again to my clit as the sudden pressure of two fingers pushes inside me, filling me completely.
My voice drops to a husky whisper as I feel my release coiling inside me.
“Keep going… just there. I’m so close.” His mouth becomes rhythmic, a perfect pattern of sucking, flicking, circling, and I feel every sensation deep in my bones.
I whisper praise between breaths. “You always take such good care of me. Work your tongue for your queen, that’s it… ”
Alexandra Ravensbrook
My pleasure crests like a wave, and when I come, it’s with a low, shuddering moan, my body trembling around the continued assault of his mouth. He doesn’t pull away, not even when my thighs lock and my fingers grip his shoulders. He stays, licking me through it, gentle and tender and so damn good.
When the last ripple of pleasure finally fades, I lower my leg and sink to my knees in front of him, water streaming between us.
I cradle his face in both hands, my thumbs brushing his wet cheeks.
“You were perfect,” I murmur, pressing my lips to his, tasting myself on him.
“My sweet man… You always know how to make your queen feel loved.”
We sit at the table as he serves up a beautiful lasagne and side salad. Topping our glasses off with wine, I ask, “So, what happened to your hand today?”
His injured hand freezes momentarily, holding the serving spoon.
I swirl my glass and sit back, watching him, looking for any signs of him hiding information from me as his face runs through a series of emotions. This man has no idea that he lays out every feeling on his face.