Thirty-Four Evelyn #3
"Nothing, Mommy," I tried the word again, loving it too—something about it was so temptingly different. Giggling, I watched her eyes narrow.
"I'm going to fuck that out of your vocabulary," she scoffed, unamused by my antics.
"Okay, Mo—"
"And teach you to think before you speak," she added.
"Whatever you say, Mistress," I fired back sarcastically.
"You're lucky I like the way that word sounds falling from these pretty lips," Vanessa whispered, trailing a finger over my mouth.
"Maybe I'll make you call me that from now on.
So you remember to ask before addressing me however you choose?
" she pondered aloud, resting the tip of her finger between my lips and chuckling as I parted them without prompting.
"That won't be necessary, Mistress," I flushed, finding the idea of being forced to use it a bit degrading.
"Unfortunately, you don't get a say in that. You really do need help remembering your place tonight, don't you?"
"So put me in my place, Mistress."
I had lost track of how long I’d been lying in her arms until my phone rang, forcing me to stir.
“Vanessa, can I answer it?” I asked, reluctantly lifting my head from her soft chest, where I’d been listening to her heartbeat.
“Baby, you don’t have to ask.”
“Right, Vanessa,” I replied, giving her hair a semi-rough tug as I reached for my phone.
“Hmm, well, if you’re going to speak to me like that, didn’t we address what you’re calling me from now on, darling? Or do you need another reminder to instill it more firmly in your mind?” She teased, playing with my choker.
“No thanks, Mistress,” I retorted sarcastically, glancing at my phone.
Seeing that it was my mother, I crawled toward the edge of the bed, about to slip into the en-suite bathroom. Vanessa didn’t need to hear how these calls usually went. She was protective and wouldn’t take kindly to the way my mother spoke to me.
Before I could hop off, Vanessa stopped me with a firm hand on my shoulder.
“Honey, I can leave if it’s personal,” she offered quickly.
“No, no, it’s alright. I should freshen up anyway,” I said, glancing down at my thighs, still marked with the evidence of our activities.
“Alright,” she agreed, pursing her lips, clearly not placing much faith in my ability to walk normally.
After hobbling across the room under her watchful gaze, I called my mother back, hoping the conversation would be brief.
“Why did I just find out you’re quitting your job from your dad?”
I rolled my eyes, remembering that I’d forgotten to share one crucial instruction with my dad—to keep this quiet for now. In my excitement about telling Vanessa, I hadn’t fully thought through my text to him.
“Because I’m switching career paths. I’m going to do something I’ll actually enjoy,” I replied, focusing instead on admiring Vanessa’s new hair products—ironically, many of which were suited for curlier hair like mine.
“So you don’t think to tell me? How am I supposed to talk you out of this nonsense if I don’t even know?”
I bit back a laugh at her seriousness. “I don’t need to be talked out of it. I’m perfectly capable of making this decision on my own.” With that, I ended the call and turned on the shower, the only thing on my mind being my need to feel clean before returning to Vanessa.
I closed my eyes as the warm water cascaded down my back, washing away sweat and the lingering traces of the last few glorious hours.
I waddled back into the bedroom with only a towel wrapped around my waist. Vanessa was propped up against the freshly changed bedding in a silk robe, reading with a glass of red wine in hand.
On my side of the bed sat a warm cup of tea and another soft robe she’d laid out in the few minutes I’d been gone.
She looked up, closed her book, set her wine on the nightstand, and patted the space beside her.
I nestled into the crook of her neck, leaving a soft kiss there.
She sighed, tilting her head to meet my lips.
When she pulled back, I ran my tongue over my tingling lips, still savoring the faint taste of red wine.
She untied my loosely knotted towel and replaced it with the fluffy robe, securing it much more firmly. After handing me the warm mug of tea, she reached for her wine and took a few slow sips.
To my surprise, when only a little remained, she handed the glass to me. “Go on. It’s obviously grown on you.”
I smiled and finished the glass.
“This one doesn’t taste as strong,” I observed thoughtfully.
“It’s the exact same one you tried at the restaurant months ago. You’re just not as bothered by the bitterness anymore.”
I hummed in agreement, leaning against her shoulder.
She looked down at me, her deep emerald eyes swirling with something unspoken.
“Nessa? What is it?” I asked softly, sensing she was considering something.
She traced her thumb along my chin, composed as ever. “Nothing. You’re just so precious,” she whispered, pressing a delicate kiss to my forehead.
Caught off guard by the tenderness, I didn’t press further. Instead, I curled closer into her, letting a wave of serenity settle over us both.