18. Arabella
18
Arabella
I wake to the feeling of the sun on my face, yet again and I can already smell Ryker cooking breakfast. Groaning, I turn over and throw my forearm over my eyes, because I’m not ready to open them yet. I was awake until five am researching all things kink and BDSM. I do have questions, but I found myself imagining what it’d be like if I was his submissive. I’d be lying if I said the thought didn’t turn me on. It may have even resulted in a self-induced orgasm or two throughout the night, which is saying something, because that has been particularly difficult lately. I’ll have to remember to thank Wrinley for forcing me to stash that mini vibe in my purse.
Orgasms aside, I may now know why I’ve been searching for something like this, all these years. I learned it’s not uncommon for women that have a lot of responsibility in their day to day lives to want to give up control to another person. Some say it’s like a weight is lifted when the Dominant takes some of the pressure off. Granted, I’ve not been looking for anything outside of the bedroom, but I’m intrigued at the thought of it now.
I’m exhausted, but my mouth is watering at the smell of whatever he’s cooking out there, so I pull on an oversized t-shirt and trudge my way out of the room. I’m suddenly accosted by the sunlight bouncing off bare skin. Jesus, this man needs to put on a fucking shirt. It may be inappropriate, but those traps are calling to me and for a brief moment, I imagine jumping onto his back like a spider monkey and licking them. Jesus. What is it with me and licking lately? But I can’t lick him. He’s already rejected me. Maybe someone could tell my vagina, because she has not gotten the memo.
“Is there anything you can’t do?” I ask him.
The fucker actually chuckles. “There’s lots I can’t do, actually. Are you hungry?”
“Yes, please. I’ll just have some scrambled eggs and fruit.”
Turning to face me, his eyes look like the literal ocean in the light of the morning sun and it takes my breath away. He slides a plate in front of me with eggs, fruit, sausage and toast. I’m feeling bold, so I slide the plate back towards him.
“Something wrong?” he quirks a brow.
“I said just eggs and fruit please.” We stare each other down and I can feel my cheeks heat under his gaze.
“I heard you. Eat,” he commands.
“No,” I insist, refusing to give in.
He slowly crosses his arms over his broad chest and I catch his jaw tick. Apparently, he’s not going to give in either. He proves me wrong when he relaxes and gestures to the couch. “We should talk.”
Moving from the barstool, I pull at the hem of my shirt as I tuck my legs underneath my butt to sit on the couch. He sits in the leather chair to the right of me and lets out a heavy sigh. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“I’m just not that hungry. I don’t need all that food.”
“That’s not what I mean, and you know it. You’re upset about last night. I’m sorry if I hurt you, but it’s really not a good idea.” Okay. He’s going there.
What he doesn’t know is with all the research I did last night, I know what I want now. “It’s fine. I understand. I did what you asked last night. I researched practically all night and I know that I want to learn and try this now. I’ll go elsewhere, if I have to. I’m sure I can find someone at the club willing to teach me. Maybe I can ask Hayes. He seems nice.”
I risk a glance at him and his pupils are blown wide. So wide, I can hardly see the crystal blue of his irises. There’s now also a bulging vein in his forehead that I hadn’t noticed before. Yikes .