The Dommes

Chapter 50

Kathleen

Sometimes a girl has to wrap herself up in bed for a day and hope the world doesn’t bother her. I’m not even answering my door, and I think I’ve missed a package or two. Who cares? I’ve got better things to do, like watch TV from my bed and feel sorry for myself.

Stupid. I was so stupid to entertain the idea that Ira cares more about me than what she could get from my cunt. I bet she enjoyed taking someone like me and turning her into a sub for a round or two. Not many women get to say they tamed a Domme.

Blah. Kill me.

The only person to see me in this state today is Annie, who has a key and comes and goes with food. What else is she supposed to do? I had errands to run and it’s not a scheduled day off for her. Might as well keep her busy while I waste away like a mob of heartbroken…

Ah, fuck no! I refuse to label myself as heartbroken!

“The doorman signed for these and asked that I bring them up to you.” Annie shuffles into my room and leaves two small packages on my dresser. I see cat food in her hand… almost forgot about the kitten sleeping in the other room. Would be nice if Sinéad joined me in my bed, but I doubt that’s going to happen. “Is there anything else you need from me? It’s almost dinner. I could get you take-out.”

I wave a lazy hand at her. “I’ve got leftovers. Pizza. Half a carton of Chinese food. I haven’t been in the mood to cook lately.”

Annie nods but does not hurry to leave. It’s not only curiosity on her face. It’s genuine concern. That would be sweet, except I’m not in the mood to deal with someone’s concern.

“Well, if that’s all you need…”

“Go home, Annie. If I suddenly decide I need something that badly, I have your number.” I won’t need something that badly.

She takes her leave with barely a goodbye. Suits me fine. I like Annie. She’s a good assistant, but I’ve never seen her as a friend. Our relationship is strictly professional.

Unlike my relationship with Ira.

Groaning, I hide beneath my covers and try not to think of her. I still can’t believe she said those awful things in front of our parents! Then she had the chutzpah to follow me out and ask why I was upset? Most of all, I can’t believe I told her that I’m falling in love – with her. Of all people.

She’s so fucking clueless. I was so fed up with her yesterday that I got a ride home with my dad. That was one silent, awkward drive back into the city, let me tell you.

Sometimes I wish my mother were better at being one. That she was here, or at least nearby, and available to help me through these issues. Sure, I could call her. Then we run into the problem of her being terrible at the advice and comfort thing. I got used to it long ago. Yet when shit like this happens I could use an experienced heart that is full of unconditional love.

I’m a billionaire, and I can’t even buy that.

Speaking of, don’t get me started on the presence of Hollywood starlet Stephanie. The only thing my father and I could talk about on the drive into town was Donovan Mathison waltzing in with not only a very young woman but a woman his kid had dated. I was hesitant to say that Ira and Stephanie had sex – so I heard through the grapevine, of course – but Dad eventually got it out of me. Once that tidbit hit his ears, he made a sour face that said Donovan thought more with his dick than his head.

“Man is a terrific businessman. Terrible husband. Father, too, apparently.”

I could tell you how much I wanted to laugh but couldn’t, but why bother?

“Kathleen.”

Here, beneath my covers, I’m convinced that I don’t hear a thing. I especially do not hear a voice. I don’t hear a voice that has no business being in my apartment that is locked to the outside world. And it’s not Ira, the one I want to see less than I want an infection.

Nevertheless, I lower my covers and see Ira standing in my bedroom doorway.

“How the hell did you get in here?”

“I caught your assistant on her way out. I convinced her to let me in.”

“She’s fired.”

“Katie.”

I toss back the cover and throw it to the other side of my bed. I look like hell, wearing nothing more than a pair of cotton shorts and a loose T-shirt. My hair is a mess. I haven’t brushed it since yesterday.

If I’m too grotesque for this world, Ira doesn’t let on.

“Don’t call me that,” I finally say. “The woman you call Katie isn’t here.”

She approaches my bed, dressed in her usual work clothes of crisp pants, a red tucked-in shirt, a black and red striped tie, and a heavy charcoal jacket that looks too warm for this summery weather. Her hair is ruffled from the breeze, giving her a hint of a disheveled bad girl look in her otherwise pristine outfit.

I hate that I want her in my arms.

“Are you sure?” Ira puts down her briefcase. “I’m looking at her right now.”

Our eyes meet, mine bloodshot and covered in goop. The hazel of her eyes is particularly sharp today. It’s like everything I find physically attractive about her has come out in full force. The only way this could be worse is if she takes off her clothes and shows me the physique she works hard in the gym to achieve.

I wonder how fucking sexy she is bench pressing and jogging on a treadmill while reading a book or watching the news, sweat seeping through her clothes.

“You can’t flatter me,” I say. “You need to leave. I’ll call security.”

“I can’t leave until we talk through this.”

“What the fuck, Ira? I said everything I already had to say. You’re the one creepily breaking into people’s houses and acting like you’re entitled to something.”

“I don’t think I’m entitled to anything. I would, however, like to talk.” She gestures to the foot of my bed. “Can I sit?”

“Oh, you’re asking me for permission? It must be my birthday.”

Like the entitled asshole she is, Ira sits on my bed, her hand dangerously close to the crease where my feet are.

“I’m sorry, Kathleen.”

I let the silence simmer around us. All you can hear in my bedroom is the ticking of a wiry clock and the slight hum of the air conditioner. My soundproofed windows keep out the street noises, but I imagine there are cop cars, kids laughing, and adults yelling at one another. Birds chirping. Dogs barking. Life.

In here, it’s two people awkwardly interacting.

“Sorry about what?” This should be good.

Ira rearranges herself so she’s facing me, her tie slapping against the bed and her shirt wrinkling to meet her poor posture. “I’m sorry about what happened yesterday. That was rude of me to say, and not even how I really feel.”

Not how she really feels? Then why the hell did she say them? For fun? I wouldn’t put it past her. “You embarrassed me in front of our families.” Granted, I hadn’t improved the situation with my further comments, but I’m leaving that out. I was pushed to say them, after all.

“I want you to know something.”

She waits for me to reply. “What? Make it good. I have no patience and you’re about five seconds away from getting the official boot.”

You’d never guess I said those words to her just now. She’s too complacent. “When you walked away from me yesterday, I worried that I wouldn’t see you again. Funny, isn’t it? I know I’ll have to see you for work, even if we’re too pissed to work closely together. Yet I had it in my head that you were going to become some enigma from my past. The kind of woman who haunts me when I’m trying to sleep.”

I can’t help but roll my eyes. Where did she learn this speech? Some how-to site? “Also the woman whose name you call during sex. Even if you’re not fucking her at the time.”

“That too.”

I settle into my pillow, staring at her through clouding eyes. If you walked into this room, you’d think I was the type of Sleeping Beauty who slept with her eyes open. Open and without any makeup. Shit, does that make Ira the Prince Charming come to wake me up from my slumber? Anything but, please.

I’d rather be awake for that.

“This is hard for me to say, let alone articulate…” Ira’s hand creeps dangerously close to my feet beneath the bed. “I like you. Very much.”

She’s kidding, right? “Like me. You like me.”

“Very much.”

“Boy, you weren’t kidding when you said you couldn’t articulate it well.”

“I’m serious, Katie. Don’t ask me to put better words to my feelings right now. Yet I definitely feel something for you. You’re more than a woman I casually hook up with. You’re even more than a friend. I’m not sure what you are. That’s the problem. I’ve never felt for someone what I feel for you, and that’s new for me. I need some time sorting it out.”

I sit up, the covers falling away from me. My back is hunched, my greasy hair falling into my lap, and my makeup-less face sending rockets into this woman’s skull.

“You need time. You. Need. Time.”

“Have I misinterpreted something? I was under no impression that we were on some specific timeline when it came to our relationship. Besides training you, anyway.”

She’s already bringing that up. Either Ira is a terrible liar, or she’s terrible at understanding me. Probably both. “No, we weren’t on any timeline. We were doing whatever felt fun. Yeah, I had a lot of fun with you.” I have to look away before her charisma breaks me. “Maybe too much fun. Like I told you, I’m getting in over my head. You’re an easy one to fall in love with, Ira Mathison, and I don’t want to fight you anymore.”

No surprise that she takes my hand, eyes staying locked on mine. “Then don’t fight me.”

“Don’t you get it? You’re one of the last people I should fall in love with. Where would a real relationship with you go? I don’t want to be your full-time sub.”

“I don’t want a full-time sub. Not from you or anyone else. That’s sex, not a lifestyle.”

“Even so, I can’t do that even half the time. It takes a lot out of me and asks me to look at who I really am. Meanwhile, you keep doing your own thing like whatever.”

“Katie… if this is about you Topping, I… don’t care if you take out your urges on others. Just casual, of course. Maybe if I’m there.”

All these stipulations. I could die from dizziness. “That’s not going to work for me. I’m a Domme. I don’t want someone looking over my shoulder and seeing what I do. For fuck’s sake, Ira, we would be miserable after a year. It wouldn’t work. We’d be forced to break up like your parents before we could even talk about marriage.”

My God, I just said the M-word.

Ira doesn’t flinch. “I think you’ve misunderstood me,” she says, steadily. “We don’t have to go from what we had to an engagement party. There are places in between. Like… agreeing to be exclusive while we test the waters out some more.”

“Why would you even want to bother with that? Do you want to waste your time when you could be looking for someone more suitable to your needs?”

“Did you not hear what I said?” Ira leans forward, face coming closer to mine. I resist flinging myself into her embrace now that I can smell her cologne so strongly. Her comfortable cologne that makes me think of gentle nights in bed, her body wrapped around mine and lips teasing every inch of my skin. “I just told you that you make me feel things that no other woman has in my thirty years. Why wouldn’t I want to follow that and see where it goes?”

“Because,” I take her hand, “I won’t be the last woman making you feel that way.”

Her gaze is unwavering. Intensifying, but she’s not going to look away anytime soon. “Why do you think so little of yourself?”

“Excuse me?”

The mood has changed. We’ve gone from Ira groveling for my attention to her looking as if she’d rather spit on my floor. I’ve never seen such disgust on her face. Disgust for me? No, Kathleen, don’t let her see how uncomfortable you are. It was one thing when she walked in here unannounced, it’s another for her to throw you off guard like this.

“You put up this fa?ade that tells the world you’re a hard bitch who doesn’t take shit from anyone, personally or professionally. I get it. You need that fa?ade because so many people have told you that you’re still nothing, even born into your father’s family. When that fa?ade comes away, though? You’re so insecure that I almost pity you. Almost. I know you have the strength to overcome whatever is holding you back.”

“What am I trying to achieve, huh?” I snatch my hand away from her.

“You need to let go. You can’t live the rest of your life trying to live up to some standard day-in and day-out. You’re going to burn in flames before you hit forty. Maybe sooner. I don’t want to see that happen. I want to give you at least one escape in your life where you can let go of all control in a safe environment with someone who fucking loves you.”

Tears threaten to burst from my eyes, but I hold them in…. because this arrogant jerk is not going to see me cry over this. She’s not going to see me remember every time I wished I could run to my father and have him fix all my problems. She’s not going to witness me come undone because a man tried to make me get his coffee even though I’m a project leader or even in charge of a whole company. I refuse to let Ira Mathison, the bane of my existence and quite possibly the love of my life, see me at my weakest like that.

She’s seen me vulnerable. She doesn’t need to see me weak.

Yet only those last words stay in my head. “You love me?”

“I told you earlier, darling, I’m heading that way. Fast.”

My hand searches for her again. When our fingers meet, it’s like being welcomed back to a place you left but have already forgotten. “What if it doesn’t work out? What if all this time has been wasted?” I bite my lip, fighting that solitary tear. “What if you break my heart?”

Somehow I’m lured into the grip of one arm. Ira’s arm. The one that’s so soft and strong that I can’t help but melt in it. My nose nuzzles against the place she rubbed her cologne as she strokes my tangled, greasy hair and whispers into my ear.

“If it doesn’t work out in the long run, then it doesn’t work out. But it wouldn’t have been a waste of time, and I would never break your heart. Not like that. The idea of you being heartbroken breaks my heart.”

My other hand strokes her red shirt and plays with the edge of her tie. “I can’t imagine someone like you being heartbroken. You’re the type to shake one woman off and go find yourself a new one. Or many ones. You were like that back in high school, too. Don’t you think I know I was one of those girls, even though I came on to you?”

“Katie.” Every time she says my name like that, I die. My heart stops beating, if only for an instant. It’s like those sound waves dive right into my ear and stop the blood flowing toward my chest. I don’t trust anyone who has so much power over me. What kind of power? Fuck, I don’t even know. “It was easy for me to go between those women because I didn’t feel anything more than lust and a passing fondness for them. You’re different. You’re completely different.” Her lips tickle my ear, and here I go, falling deep into that well I’ve plummeted into so many times now. “You’re the closest thing to a soul mate I’ve ever found, and I still don’t believe in such a thing.”

“Neither do I.” My arms encircle her. God, I don’t want to let her go ever again. That’s how much she’s destroying me. “I do, however, believe you’re changing something within me. Or maybe you’re not changing it. Maybe it’s always been there, and I was too stupid to acknowledge it.”

“You’re not stupid, my love.” A kiss tugs at my throat. “You’re scared. I’ll help you.”

I think of the collar she bought me. Until now, I thought those days were already behind me. No more wearing a collar for Ira Mathison, the only one I would let do that to me. “I am scared. I’m scared you’re going to leave my bedroom without making love to me, even though I’m a mess.”

“What?”

“Look at me, dumbass. I look like I’ve had the flu for a week.”

Ira laughs, the mirthful kind that fills me with a flash of adoration. “I didn’t even notice. I mean, I noticed, but I wasn’t put off. You look like you’re not wearing any makeup.”

I don’t want to say something like, “That doesn’t bother you?” because I know a decent person wouldn’t be mortified by how I look. Like Ira said, though, I’m still insecure at the end of the day, and that can translate to insecurity over my looks. I can’t help but smile into her shoulder as she tells me one more time that I’m beautiful.

No chance to tell her that I think she’s gorgeous. She’s kissing me before the chance.

Have you ever thought you weren’t going to kiss someone wonderful again? Then had the chance to relieve your heart and start all over, with new understanding and hope? That’s me. If you’ve never had that chance before, let me tell you… there’s nothing like a make-up kiss.

Or make-up sex.

All the urban legends regarding relationships are right. See, I’ve never had make-up sex before. So I don’t understand this flood of passion flowing through me as Ira gently lays me down against my pillow and gently kisses me over and over again.

I don’t care if she doesn’t love me yet. I don’t care if this ends in a sweeping blaze months, years from now. I don’t care. All I care about is how good it feels to make love to her and call her mine.

And now I’m hers.

She shows no apprehension holding me, even though she’s decked out in top-tier designers and I’m here in a T-shirt I got from the library I helped. She’s in cologne. I’m in body odor and sweat. She’s teasing my throat with her tongue, and I’m awkwardly reaching between us trying to find her zipper.

“Someone’s grabby,” she mutters against my lips.

I get the damn zipper down and go right for her thigh. “Can’t help it. I want to feel you.”

“Then feel me, darling. As long as you let me feel you too.”

As if she has to ask.

We undulate together, my hand exploring her and enamored with how simple she is today. I already knew just from looking at her. Is it weird that I can tell from the way she walks and carries herself if she’s packing or not? Maybe it’s not weird. Maybe that’s how well I know her now.

In turn, she cups my breasts through my shirt, kissing cotton and making my nipples peak beneath. My whimpers of desire are enough to convince her to reach into my cotton shorts and rub the folds surrounding my clit.

It’s so gentle. While not the first time we’ve gently made love, it is the first time it wasn’t preempted by the rough, passionate sex we’re more accustomed to. This is genuine. Not fueled by exhaustion and remaining desire. This is…

This is otherworldly.

Every time my name falls from her lips, I feel like I’m ascending a ladder toward Heaven. Her hand caresses me between the legs, urging me to get wet for her, while I help her get rid of some of her clothes. Neither effort takes very long.

It also doesn’t take us long to jump right to that event.

Funny, isn’t it? Just a few minutes ago I was hoping she would leave me alone. Now I can’t get enough of her. I can’t stop kissing her cheek and neck as she sits up and begins to undress. The tie lands on the bed. The jacket falls over the side. Her shirt unbuttons until it’s my turn to palm her unbound breasts.

My T-shirt comes up. Not over my head, but high enough for her to touch and lick my nipples. Teeth graze both as she shakes off her pants and boxers. She’s half-naked on top of me, and yet neither of us can bother to finish the chore by removing this shirt. It’s fine. I only want to be able to touch her.

Ira pulls down my shorts and underwear. “Have I told you that you’re beautiful yet?” she asks, slipping one finger into me. I gasp, delighted, happy to have her back in me so soon.

I missed her. I didn’t realize how much until now.

“Katie…” Her fingers thrust into me, making me wetter. Each fingertip curls and grazes my core, but I’m not allowed to taste ecstasy yet. That’s okay. I can wait for her.

She wants the same thing I do. Namely, she wants to make love.

I thought we had made love before. Those slow, sensual times in her bed. Now I’m not so sure. I think this may be it, because this time we’re coming together because of a burning need to express our most hidden emotions for each other.

Slowly, her sleeves come down her arms, and I feel her biceps, her shoulder blades appearing beneath my touch. The red shirt joins Ira’s jacket on the floor. She parts my legs around her waist and kisses me so deeply that I gradually forget the rest of the world exists.

Isn’t that what lovemaking is about? Becoming so involved in one another that nothing else matters anymore? Believe it or not, I stop caring about everything but the beating of her heart and the breath I feel on my throat and in my mouth. I don’t even care about her straddling my thigh, my folds parting more to welcome her leg against my slit. Gradually. Gently.

Magnificently.

Ira stays still against me, kissing my lips again and again, my nails tracing the outline of her muscles along her shoulder and arms. “How does it feel?” she asks, shifting slightly. “I can tell you how it feels on this end. Amazing.”

Not very descriptive, Ira, but as I said, I don’t care about that. “It feels amazing on this end too.” I tell her how even if we’re not inside one another, we’re one. Conjoined, unable to part. You hear those stories about someone who fits so perfectly within you that it’s fate. We both said we don’t believe in soul mates. Maybe not, but I believe in moments like these.

“I think I love you, Katie.”

Those are the last words Ira says before wrapping her arms beneath me, lifting my hips, and thrusting against me.

I think I love you.

I love you.

Rhythmic movements blissfully roll through me, but all I can think is that the one doing this – the one pushing my body to its limits and reaching for my heart – loves me.

Ira Mathison. The person I thought I disliked so much for so long. Over what? Her arrogance? A grudge from years ago? One so stupid and immature now? Shit, nothing like that is ever going to happen again with us. I feel like a fool for not going to her sooner.

Perhaps it was best we waited this long. Perhaps it’s a good thing I had my independent experiences, shaping me into the woman I am now in this moment. I’m still growing. I’m still changing. I’m still fighting the urge to meet my boundaries head-on and see how far I can push them toward the cliff of ultimate enlightenment.

Damn, this is pretty close.

“I love you too, Ira.” My voice is lost to the creak of my bed and the gasps in my throat. I’m opening up more, taking her deep within me and begging her to love me, love me some more. I want to feel every bit of her need for me. I want to capture her essence and hold onto it for the rest of my life. Even if we break up later… even if this really can’t be because of who we fundamentally are… that’s fine. That’s more than fine. I’ll always have this moment to comfort me on the nights I miss her the most.

My affirmation inspires Ira to thrust harder, faster, her love tearing me apart in an intoxicating way. If I thought it physically possible, I would want her to keep doing this, forever. I want this, forever.

I want her forever.

Her last kiss of the moment sends me over the edge. Between that, my legs spread around her, and her grunt of unfathomed love surrounding me, I break.

“Ira!” I claw her skin, my nails leaving their marks, in case some other woman has the immense privilege of seeing her without her shirt on someday. I want her to know that once upon a time, Ira Mathison made love to me. “I want you.”

She knows what that means.

Ira’s grunts turn into groans of yearning. My inner walls clench, urging me to come as I sit on the precipice of orgasm.

Just as I think there’s no hope of us coming together, she gasps, coming hard as immense pleasure hits my body and brain as well.

She holds herself so close to me that I feel every inch of her orgasm. We slow our movements until finally… finally, I relax into my pillow, this woman on top of me, kissing me.

I don’t want to let her go.

Except we can’t stay like this forever. Eventually, Ira has to roll over enough to keep me in her arms. My head rests against her chest. My thigh lays on her leg, my still spread limbs letting her sweat on my skin.

It’s a wonderful combination of feeling marked and in love. Ira isn’t my Domme right now. She’s… I don’t know what. My girlfriend. My lover.

“Have I told you that I’m sorry yet?” She kisses my forehead with the tenderness I crave.

I sigh against her skin. “I’d rather hear that other thing again.”

“What? That I think I love you?”

“Yeah. That one.”

She pushes against me, lips dancing on every part of who I am – physically, emotionally. “I want to fall in love with you, Katie, and I want you to fall in love with me.”

“But it’s so much more fun to fight you.”

“Only in games.”

I wrap my arms around her again, my T-shirt the only clothing still on either of our bodies. Maybe I should fix that.

“What happens now?”

Her kiss is unexpected at this moment, but I don’t push her away. How can I, when this is the most natural feeling in the world?

“Let’s play it by ear.”

“What about our families?”

“Fuck our families. It’s none of their business.”

I can’t help but agree. It’s none of their business. Not until we decide to take a more serious step beyond exclusivity. I don’t know when that will happen. Right now I only care about feeling her warmth around me, within me, and consuming every part of my consciousness.

“I love you,” I whisper, testing how she feels now that we’re no longer having sex.

To my surprise, she knocks me over onto the other side of my bed and looms over me. Am I scared? Enamored? I don’t know what this feeling is, only that I’m becoming addicted to it.

“Don’t say those words if you don’t mean them.”

“You said them first.”

“I didn’t say them without meaning them.”

“Neither am I.” I wrap my legs around her waist and feel her strong body pressed upon mine. Soon we’re back in that familiar embrace. “I love you. I just don’t know what to do.”

“For today, for this week, we’re not going to concern ourselves with it. We won’t address the future until we have to.”

As nice as that sentiment sounds, I can’t help but wonder if that future will come sooner rather than later. I also wonder if I will really care. Will I keep pushing back my identity in favor of a new one? Will I be happy?

Where will we be a year from now? Ten years from now?

Let me tell you. It doesn’t even matter. I’m taking things one day at a time.