Chapter 32
GRACE
In the weeks after the wedding, I write like a madwoman, spending days at my laptop, spilling my guts onto the page. It’s a lot of sex, and deep down, there’s a part of me that feels ashamed, wondering if I’ll ever get a publishing deal if this is what I’m writing.
But another part of me has been freed. Unleashed from whatever cage was trapping me, and it feels cathartic to get the words out.
Kacey joins me at the coffee shop, peeking over my shoulder and giggling like a schoolgirl when she reads the dirty scenes.
“Gracie Morgan.” She smiles. “I knew you’d love being a sub!”
And she was right.
Submission suits me.
And like every day, I make sure I’m home before Asher. I dress in pretty lingerie and kneel in the foyer to wait for him. Afternoon light streams through the penthouse windows and the marble is cool against my knees. I adjust my position, straightening my spine the way Asher taught me.
I hear the elevator before the doors open. My pulse kicks up, anticipation flooding through me like it does every single time.
Asher steps out, still in his suit from work, briefcase in hand. Those steel eyes find me immediately, and something shifts in his expression. Something dark and hungry that makes my breath catch.
"Good girl." The words are quiet, almost reverent. No matter how many times he comes home to find me here, he still greets me the same.
He sets down his briefcase with deliberate care. Shrugs out of his jacket. Loosens his tie with slow, measured movements that feel like foreplay.
When he reaches me, his hand slides into my hair, tilting my face up to meet his gaze.
“How was your day?” he asks, and though I’ve come to learn he wants to know if I met my promised word count, I’ve also started to realize that he genuinely wants to hear about my day.
“Good. 2,459 words.” I grin. “I met Kacey for coffee, and we worked together.”
Asher gives me his hand, pulling me to stand and kissing my forehead. The action sends butterflies through me every time. “And what is dear Kacey up to?” he asks, looping an arm around my waist and leading me to the kitchen.
Since we started this routine of me waiting for him on my knees in nothing but a bra and panties, Asher has Lisette go home before dinner.
At first, she was concerned about who was going to feed us, but then she quickly caught on that it meant sex and that woman is desperately hoping for me to have a baby.
Which is absolutely never going to happen, but neither of us is about to break her heart.
“She was editing a video on different kinds of Dominant types.”
“Yeah?” He seats me at the kitchen island as he makes work of warming up the pre-made dinner Lisette left us. “And what type am I?”
I blush. One of the benefits of co-working with Kacey during the day is getting to watch whatever videos she’s working on. It’s mutually beneficial. I can give her feedback, and it helps me write my book more accurately.
“Well…she went over seven types, and I’m not sure you fall into just one.”
“Mm.” He stirs the mashed potatoes, something that shouldn’t be sexy. “Go on.”
I think through all the types Kacey listed in her video. I was relating them to Asher as I listened, and then promptly proceeded to write about them, having my heroine assess which ones applied to her Dom in the book.
“Well, there’s the caregiver. She talked a lot about this one in terms of DDLG.”
Asher eyes me when I say the acronym.
“You’re learning quite a bit of kink, huh?”
I nod, feeling warm all over. “Yes, Sir. But it doesn’t just apply to DDLG.”
“And am I a caregiver, Sugar?”
I look at the dinner he’s heated and is arranging on plates. “Yes.”
He chuckles. “Go on.”
“There’s also the hedonist. Which I think is kind of you, but you’re really a manager.”
At that, Asher barks out a laugh. “Not sure I’ve ever heard that one before.”
“The manager is all about training and service. And that’s what you’ve been doing, right? Training me to serve you? Also, the motivator!” I add, almost forgetting that one. “The motivator is all about setting goals and rewards that benefit both parties.”
Like setting a writing goal every day and making sure I take care of myself.
Asher smiles, sliding my plate in front of me. “Eat,” he orders. “And then I’ll manage you all night.”