Domesticated Read online

  I snapped my eyes to him, ready to be defensive, assure him that I did no such thing. Then I remembered, I did. I just didn’t talk about it. “No wine? That is ridiculous. I like my wine.”

  “I know. How much does that Challis-North stuff cost a bottle?”

  “I don’t know. Three hundred or so. I can afford it.”

  “No, you can’t. As long as we’re together, there will be no three hundred dollar bottles of wine. You can have a long neck bottle of Bud, just like me.”

  “Bud?”

  “Beer.”

  “Oh, hell no. I’m not drinking beer.”

  “Why? You think beer is beneath you?”

  “I know it’s beneath me. You drink your nasty beer. I’ll drink my wine.”

  “No deal.”

  “This is ridiculous, Sam. This has nothing to do with anything. You’re going to shut it down because I won’t drink beer?”

  “Yup.”

  “Fine. I’ll drink beer, but I’m not doing this. You can forget it. You have to let me negotiate, too.”

  “No, I don’t. This is what I want. You want me to rub your pussy, you have to go by my rules.”

  Well, damn. Maybe Sam did have it in him. The way he just said pussy, speaking of my sex, made me even wetter. I would have agreed to anything after that comment. “Whatever, where’s a pen?”

  Sam held a pen firmly in his hand when I tried to take it. “You’re sure you want to do this?”

  Jerking the pen from his hand, I signed it. “I’m sure. When can we start?”

  “Make us some eggs and toast. I’ll head us out to sea,” Sam said, standing. He leaned in and kissed my cheek before leaving. Oh, hell no!

  “That’s not necessary, either,” I disputed.

  “Yes it is. See?” he pointed halfway down the sheet and left me alone.

  I agree to let Sam be as intimate as he wants when we’re not role playing behind closed doors. Fuck. What the hell was this shit? What did he think was going to happen after summer break? He knew I was married. What was the point in pretending to be a couple? This made no sense. Once I was finished reading through the ludicrousness, I opened the apartment-sized refrigerator.

  “Make me breakfast,” I mocked out loud to the empty room in a whiny tone. I complained about it, but if I’m being honest, I sort of enjoyed it. Yeah, eggs weren’t rocket science, but I felt useful cracking eggs into the pan.

  I was very proud of my little pile of eggs and wheat toast. With two plates in hand, I carried them to where Sam was programming a route into the sophisticated navigation unit. He smiled at me when he saw me. As dumb and cliché as it sounds, it made me feel kind of warm and fuzzy inside.

  “Looks amazing. You didn’t poison mine, did you?” he teased, taking his plate from me.

  “No way. You owe me.”

  “And you’re going to get it. Sit with me.”

  The thought of it made my clitoris throb like mad. I hoped he was going to take care of that soon. I should have done it myself. It wasn’t like I couldn’t do it again, and again, and again. I sat next to Sam in the caramel colored leather seat. They reminded me of our theater room seats back home, big and comfortable. That was the first time I had ever ventured to the captain’s bridge. It was actually pretty cool.

  “Let’s talk while we eat,” Sam suggested. Great, number nine. I agree to answer Sam’s questions about my life.

  “Let’s have an orgasm first,” I countered and he laughed. It wasn’t meant to be a joke.

  “Where do you live?”

  “Hartford Connecticut. I was being serious,” I advised, taking a bite of my eggs. They were very good. I was proud.

  “Do you do that often?”

  “Do what?”

  “You know what. Have an orgasm?”

  I moved my eyes from his to the narrow windows. Liquid diamonds slid down the panes. I followed two drops, side by side, racing to the window trim. The one on the left won by a half a drop. “It depends,” I explained, continuing to stare out at the massive ocean and gray sky.

  “On what?”

  “How well I can control it. It’s the first thing I do when I wake up, and the last thing I do before I sleep.”

  “Is that normal?”

  “I’m sure it’s not.”

  “And your husband keeps up okay?”

  “He doesn’t know. I keep my addiction hidden. I do it alone.”

  “Why? Is the man crazy?”

  “He is very conservative,” I explained, sitting my plate on the table in front of us.

  Sam picked it up and handed it back. “You barely touched that. It’s very good. Eat it. What does that mean? Conservative?”

  “He’s not really into kink. He would never do what I am asking you to do. He would have me seeing a shrink tomorrow if I ever suggested anything like this to him.”

  “Is he good to you?”

  “Outside of bed or in bed? Are we still talking about sex?” I countered. I knew what he was asking. I just wasn’t comfortable talking about this with him.

  “I’m talking about in everyday life. I want to know how he treats you.”

  “He treats me fine. He just bought me a Porsche for my birthday.”

  “Yeah, and he buys you expensive yachts, extravagant beach houses, and pays for someone else to do your work for you. I’m not asking about his money. It’s obvious you’re a kept woman. I want to know how he treats you.”

  I took a deep breath and shook my head. If my pussy weren’t going crazy wanting to be touched, I would have told him to go to hell. I couldn’t. Just the thought of his fingers touching me there were causing outlandish sensations that I couldn’t control. “He doesn’t really treat me any way, Sam. We just do our own thing. He’s busy. He’s working on a big oil case and he’s really into buying and trading stocks right now.”

  “What do you do together?”

  “Things. Company dinners, holiday parties, stuff like that.”

  “So you’re just eye candy for your rich husband.”

  “I’m going to take that as a compliment. I don’t want the rest of this. I’m full,” I addressed, placing my plate back on the empty table. I almost finished it.

  “I feel sorry for you.”

  I chuckled. “I have more money than you’ll ever make in five lives, and you feel sorry for me?” I questioned, spinning in the luxury seat.

  “Money doesn’t make you rich.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. Money makes the world go round. Money will buy anything, including people,” I pointed out the fact.

  “You didn’t buy me.”

  “That’s exactly what I did. Tell me you don’t need the five grand a month for the next three months—fifteen thousand dollars. Tell me you can turn it down.”

  “It’s not fifteen thousand. I’m giving you half, remember?”

  “I don’t want it back. I want you to touch me. I want you to make me come,” I whispered with narrowed eyes, letting my tone match the somber weather. Dark and despairing.

  “Let me see it.”

  YES! THANK YOU JESUS! FINALLY…

  I don’t know why Sam was so easy to be me around. I guess because I knew he was going back to wherever he lived, and I would go back to Garrison. I would never have to see him again. I turned my chair to face him and slowly raised my dress. Teasing myself as much as him, I slipped off my sandals and propped both feet on his jean-covered knees. Sam surprised me again, sending shocks of electricity up both my legs when he placed his hands around my ankles.

  I stopped, leaving my skirt high on my legs but covering my saturated pussy. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” I negotiated. Sam’s eyes left my skirt covered pussy to stare into my eyes. Time stood still while our eyes held a gaze, briefly.

  “You’ll see that when I say. Keep going,” he ordered. I liked him ordering me. I liked that he wanted to look at my pussy. Holding his stare, I lifted my skirt and let him see. I swear I had never seen the hu
ngry look in his eyes in Garrison’s before. He wanted me. Really wanted me.

  “It doesn’t look how I expected.”

  “What the fuck does that mean?” I snapped, trying to hide myself with my skirt, feeling suddenly stupid and embarrassed.

  He moved it back, sliding both hands up my legs. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant I was expecting a smooth, rich girl with a Brazilian wax, or maybe laser removed.”

  I relaxed and let him push my knees out. “I told you, Garrison wouldn’t understand that. He wouldn’t like it, and truthfully, I don’t want to look like a four-year-old.”

  “You don’t have to. I love it.”

  That made me smile even more. I kept myself very well trimmed, and I looked at it daily. I thought it was sexy as hell without it being naked. “Touch me,” I whispered, slumping in my chair.

  “You know once I do that, there’s no going back. You’re committing adultery.”

  “So are you. I won’t tell if you don’t.”

  I expected Sam to just touch me, play with me, and make me come. He didn’t quite do it the way I planned. He moved to his knees between my legs and kissed me with that anti-gravity kiss, the one that made me feel like I was floating. His fingers covered my pussy and he dragged them slowly from the back to my throbbing nub. I squirmed in my seat, holding my breath while his fingers created magic.

  “Jesus, you’re so fucking wet,” he whispered to my lips. I only moaned in his mouth. He didn’t give me time to reply before his tongue was halfway down my throat again. Sam inserted what I thought was two fingers, thrust them in and out of me slowly, and then faster. Letting his thumb circle heavy pressure on my clit. That was over way too fast. I grabbed my armrest and pulled away from his mouth when I felt the first wave of ecstasy take over.

  I don’t think I had ever been that aroused when I watched him spread my lips with his thumb and forefinger. He used three fingers and rubbed me like he was scrubbing a stain. I watched his eyes, staring at my wet pussy as he brought me to gratifying bliss. Inserting his two fingers again, my orgasm contracted.

  “Fuck me, Sam,” I begged, moving my own fingers to my happy clitoris. I wanted more. A lot more.

  “Not yet.”

  Oh My God! I was going to kill him.

  “Yes. I’m paying you. You have to. Please,” I pleaded. I wanted to be fucked so bad I could taste it. I would taste it if he would only put his dick in me. He didn’t. He moved my fingers with his and rubbed me a couple more times while kissing me.

  “I’m in control. Not you. You wanted me to dominate you. I’m doing my job. You’re not allowed to touch yourself. I’m the only one allowed to do that. You got it?” Sam asked, pulling away, looking sternly into my eyes. I loved it. I totally loved him telling me that I wasn’t allowed to touch myself. He could touch it. No problem.

  “When?”

  “When what?”

  “When can we do more?”

  “When I say so,” Sam ordered, breaking the contact from his fingers and my still-eager sex. I didn’t want him to stop. This was it? This was his idea of being dominating? Sam sucked at this. I should have ran an ad, found someone on Craigslist, sold myself on eBay, anything. Sam sucked.

  “Let’s go sit under the awning and watch it rain,” he suggested, covering my still zealous sex.

  What?!

  I was left slouched in my chair, speechless. I should have come up with the contract.

  I did as my rookie Dom wanted and sat beside him watching raindrops splatter to the ocean, answering stupid questions about my life that had nothing to do with anything.

  “Do you have friends?”

  “I have acquaintances. They’ll be here for the Fourth of July weekend, but I am going to make sure you don’t meet them.”

  “Why will they be here?”

  “Garrison always invites a bunch of colleagues and their wives out here for the Fourth. We take the yacht out and watch the show of fireworks.”

  “The show is on Sunday this year,” Sam informed me.

  That was good news. Maybe they would leave before then. One could hope anyway.

  “When will Garrison be joining you? I can’t wait to meet him.”

  “No way. I can’t be around you and Garrison at the same time.”

  “I’m sure if your stuck-up husband is around, I’ll be in the control room. I’m sure he doesn’t have relationships with the help. Do you?” Sam asked, taking my hand. I looked at my dainty hand in his larger one, so close to his cock.

  “We’re going to hold hands? Are you serious?”

  “Does this bother you? Do you hold hands with Garrison?”

  “Never.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know, Sam. We don’t have that kind of relationship. What about you? Why don’t you have a girlfriend, or better yet a wife?”

  “I had one once. We divorced two years ago. Why don’t you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “Divorce Garrison,” he clarified.

  I looked over at our hands. His thumb brushed back and forth on the back of mine while I tried to figure out what the hell he was doing. “People in my class don’t really do that.”

  “Why? You’re not happy.”

  “You don’t know that,” I assured him, moving my fingers. I hate to say it, but I liked feeling the way my hand felt in his.

  “Do you love him?”

  “Love doesn’t really have anything to do with the way our class marries. We’re bred to seek higher educations, where we find eligible husbands.”

  “So you go to some fancy college and hook a rich guy to support you?”

  “Sort of, I guess. Most of us already come from money. I mean we’re supposed to have babies, and play the alpha mom, raising successful, well-bred children.”

  “Why don’t you have kids?”

  “Sam.”

  “Just answer that last question then I’ll stop for now.”

  “I can’t have babies.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No, it’s not like that. I don’t want them. I am actually supposed to see a fertility specialist here in Malibu tomorrow. I’ve been pretending to see them for years.”

  “Why can’t you have a baby? I don’t get it.”

  “You said that was the last question.”

  “Okay, okay. You want to catch a shark?”

  “Noooooo,” I overdramatically guaranteed Sam.

  He laughed. “Come on. You’ll love it,” Sam said, forcing me up.

  “It’s raining,” I protested, letting him pull me to my feet.

  “You won’t melt.”

  I can’t say I loved shark fishing. It was exciting, especially getting the thing to the boat. Shark fishing was hard work. It took almost two hours to get it in. The part that I can say I loved was the way Sam was so playful with me, the way we laughed, and the way he stood close behind me, making me reel in the shark.

  We didn’t keep the shark and we didn’t catch another one. I was drenched, shivering from the dreary day and the rain. That was enough fishing for me. I had enough.

  “Let’s go take a hot shower,” Sam suggested. I looked at him, taken aback. I had never taken a shower with Garrison. How did I feel about that?

  “Together?” I questioned.

  “Is that okay?”

  “Yeah,” I answered with a little too much excitement. Dammit. He was going to think I was desperate. He chuckled and led me to the master suite, the one Garrison and I used a hand full of times. I didn’t know how I felt about that, either.

  Sam turned the small heater on, hanging on the wall. I didn’t need it. I wasn’t cold anymore. The thought of being naked with a man other than Garrison warmed me right up. I looked up to Sam when he lifted both arms out from his sides. My eyes scanned his muscular build, briefly landing on a bulge.

  “What?” I asked looking back to his eyes. I loved that lustful, stone-cold glare. It was stern, mysterious, and dominating.
r />   “Undress me.”

  I swallowed the lump in my throat and took a step to him. My fingers clumsily fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. This was a first for me, too. I actually fantasized about doing this very thing to him earlier in the day. My eyes shifted with my fingers all the way to the last button, hanging just in front of his crotch. I purposely touched his erection with the back of my hand before sliding the shirt over his shoulders.

  Sam’s shoulders didn’t feel like Garrison’s either. They were stronger, broader, and manlier than Garrison’s smaller framed physique. I couldn’t help but run my hands down his powerful pecs.

  “I didn’t say touch me. I said undress me,” he quietly, but sternly told me, removing my hands by grasping my wrists.

  My lips parted when I looked up, a little bemused. This was so foreign to me. I was so far out of my realm that I couldn’t breathe.

  “My jeans,” he ordered with firm eyes.

  I wanted to run my hand along the cock that I was sure was also a lot more superior to Garrison’s six-inch pencil dick. Afraid to follow my instincts, I unbuttoned the snap instead. My pussy had never been so anxious in all my existence. Damn. Why didn’t I tell him I get to call the shots? I wanted to stroke his massive erection so badly I could barely stand it. Letting down the zipper, I folded the flap over his hardness first, and then the other.

  Sam helped me slide his jeans over his hips and I swear, there was nothing sexier alive. The way his jeans draped over his hips, his shirt hanging off his shoulders, and the tight white boxer briefs were magazine worthy. Oh, sweet mother of pearl.

  “You have to ask.”

  “Ask?”

  “Ask to touch me.”

  I bit my bottom lip, trying not to grin in amusement. Sam was taking his job very seriously. I loved it. “Can I touch you?” I obeyed.

  “Kiss me first.”

  No problem. I stood on the tips of my toes and parted his lips with my tongue. Sam responded by pulling me to him, holding me with one hand around my waist and the back of my neck with the other. Sam was fighting his desire as much as I was. I knew that by the urgency in his kiss, his touch, the sizzling tension between us, and the way he kept pulling away to look at me.