All her life, Abigail thought squirting was a mythical occurrence that only happened in pornographic films. There was no way in hell a woman could ejaculate that amount of…whatever it was that came out of her. The producers had to angle the camera in such a way that it looked like water came out of a woman’s vagina when in reality it was the male peeing inside her.
She didn’t even want to think of the precautionary measures that went into such an act. Was it even safe to pee inside a woman?
But then it happened to her, and it hadn’t been pee.
She didn’t know how to stop it from happening. It was a wave that hit her off balance and drowned her in a sea of pleasure.
It did feel like she had to rush to the bathroom, though. He kept hitting her right there, stimulating that spot with his pierced penis until she couldn’t hold it any longer and she let go. She stopped fighting. She came all over him, literally.
She bit her lip, trying to contain her lewd smile as she walked past the restroom hallway and entered the loud club. She looked around for Master Trice, hoping to see him in the shadows watching her from afar but didn’t find him.
Guess he was outside waiting for her. How had he been able to find her, anyway? It turned out she had two stalkers to worry about now. She wasn’t worried, a little annoyed he’d ignored their agreement but not scared. Another woman might have been. Good thing Abigail wasn’t another woman because said woman would’ve chased Preston away with a restraining order and would’ve never come as hard as she did.
She loved the attention he gave her. She loved how she had the power to drive him mad to the point where he took her from behind against the vanity of a public restroom where anyone could’ve interrupted them at any moment.
But if Master Trice thought he could rule her world outside the bedroom he had another thing coming. She was more than fine with being submissive in bed, in a dungeon behind closed doors, but she’d never be submissive in life. Not after past generations fought for those rights.
Abigail let Master Trice do what he did because she wanted to, not the other way around. Yet, something else she needed to add to the section of additional comments/questions of their weekly “discussions.”
A shiver shook her body.
Had he really sent women to the hospital because he’d taken it too far?
No. He wouldn’t do that. He was a composed man. A man his age, with experience in the BDSM lifestyle knew when enough was enough. He had to know how far to take acts, right?
Abigail felt a hand on her forearm as it pulled her to the side. For a second, she thought it was Master Trice, but the hold was soft and not threatening.
“Abbs! I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Where were you?”
“I had to pee.” She blushed. God, she was a treacherous liar and Mike knew it. But he had other things to worry about, so he ignored her pink cheeks.
“Well, I need your help. Mom and Dad just got here. They’re talking to Niall.”
“Shit! Sorry. Sorry.”
“Yeah. I don’t know what to do. Mom’s being her usual annoying self. Should’ve pepper-sprayed her mouth instead.”
Abigail let out a giggle. “Dad?”
“Drinking,” they both said in unison. He enjoyed his nightly glass of bourbon, especially on cold nights.
“You’ve got to help me.”
She looked at her phone.
Not only did Abigail note five minutes had passed since Master Trice’s departure, but today was officially Friday, not Thursday.
“Hmm. These shoes are killing me, Mike. I think I’m going to head home.”
“What?” His eyes almost left their sockets.
It pained her to see Mike freaking out on such a special night. It really did. After all, it had been her idea to invite their parents. But she was going to get it from Master Trice if she didn’t get her butt in the SUV waiting outside for her.
Then again, it was technically Friday morning, not evening. She didn’t have to obey his rules. Man was it fun to tell him she’d gone there to be fucked. She giggled at her silliness.
“What are you laughing about? Are you going to help me or what? Please say yes.”
She gave in. “Fine. I’ll hang out with Mom and Dad but only for a few minutes. You know, break the ice for Niall, but then I’m going.”
“I fucking love you!” He hugged her. “You smell like sex.” She bit her lip, secretively. “Holy fuck! Who did you fuck?”
“No one.” She walked toward the bar and turned her attention to her parents. “Mom, Dad, you made it!”
“Of course, we did,” Mr. Bennett said as he kissed both his daughter’s cheeks. Hopefully, he didn’t smell the sex on her. That’d be awkward.
Abigail spent more than necessary chatting with her parents and Niall while Mike practically shit his pants in the corner, leaving Niall and Abigail to fend for themselves.
Niall wasn’t that bad. He wasn’t bad at all, actually.
He made Mike happy and that was all that mattered. It was exactly what Mike needed. They were similar, not just in stature but in their interests. Both were free-spirited and had a passion for fitness, sports, and tattoos. Abigail was sure they shared one in common. But she kept the knowledge to herself. There was no need to rile her mother more than she already was. She’d wait for Mike to confirm it when he was ready. That’s how Mike’s and Abigail’s relationship was. Even if they knew the other was lying, or omitting information, they never pushed. They waited until the other was ready to chat.
Niall was perfect for Mike in her eyes, and she’d hate for it not to work out. She’d hate for her brother to get hurt, to get his heart broken like it had many times before. Now she understood her mother’s hesitation. But wasn’t it through broken hearts one found the person willing to mend it?
Seeing her father bond with Niall over their enthusiasm for the Giants, Abigail saw her escape.
“He’s got my seal of approval. I have to go now. Be nice,” she whispered into her mother’s ear as she said her goodbyes.
She slipped her coat back on and rushed through the crowds of people trying to get inside as she tried her best to get outside. She had a desire to shout in their face a very loud move but held it back in time for her heels to touch the sidewalk.
Master Trice was going to have her head. She was sure to enjoy his punishment.
Abigail walked to the SUV parked on the curb and opened the door. It was locked. She tried again and the door didn’t budge. She knocked on the window only to see it lower.
Master Trice didn’t look at her as he said, “You’re thirty minutes late. What makes you think you’re allowed inside?”
Although she feared him sometimes, his crudeness always had a tendency to make her smile. She knew her master wouldn’t like that as it would look like she was making fun of him, so she tried to hide her smile.
“I know you don’t care but my parents got here, and I couldn’t leave Mike alone. He needed me.” She didn’t say who Mike was. She had a feeling Master Trice already knew. She had a feeling he knew more about her than he led her to believe.
He gazed up from his phone and looked at her. His eyes looked distant like he was going through intense pain. Him? She internally laughed. This man didn’t receive pain. He gave it.
He unlocked the door and let her in.
“Thank you.”
“Drive,” he cut her off.
Abigail hadn’t closed the door and the car was already joining city traffic.
“When I say you’ve got five minutes, I mean you’ve got five minutes. Not a minute longer and definitely not thirty minutes longer. Next time, tell your brother’s gay ass to grow a pair and face his parents on his own.”
Abigail saw red. Her hand came up and made contact with his cheek. Her eyes watered. Her body shook. She couldn’t believe what she’d done. She couldn’t believe what he’d said. The car ride was silent. The sound of her hand smacking against his face blanketed them. Their eyes locked. His thinning. Hers were wide and runny.
“Don’t ever talk about my brother like that again.”
He could say whatever he wanted to her, about her. He could hit her and humiliate her in front of whoever he wanted.
Family was everything in the world. Talk shit about hers, her brother, and everything changed.
Mike had it bad his entire life for being gay. Just now he’d gotten to the point where other’s opinions didn’t matter because those close to him, his family and friends, accepted him unconditionally.
Abigail wasn’t going to let a bad-tempered thirty-four-year-old man diminish her brother for being gay, especially on his night. And she definitely wasn’t going to sleep with him.
“I don’t want to be here anymore. Please, stop the car,” she said to Kenneth who ignored her blatantly. “Stop the fucking car. Preston!”
He met eyes with Kenneth in the rear-view mirror and gave a subtle nod.
As soon as they pulled up, Abigail got out of the car and breathed in the infected air of the streets. Seriously, this city needed to do something about its waste management.
She looked around to get a sense of where she was and how she’d get home from there.
Lexington Avenue.
That’s a thirty-minute walk to her apartment. She started walking.
“What are you doing, Abigail?” She heard an exasperated voice behind her.
“I’m going home. I don’t want to be near you right now.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want to fuck a homophobe!”
He grabbed her arm, twisting her to him. “I’m not a homophobe.”
“No? What you said sure as hell sounded like it.”
“What I said was taken the wrong way.”
“No, Preston, it wasn’t. You want to hurt me, and I get that. I’m more than fine with that, otherwise, I wouldn’t have agreed to this. But hurt me, not my family, and definitely not my brother who’s fought his entire life to be accepted by society.”
“Let Kenneth take you home. I’ll walk.”
She scoffed. “That’s not necessary. I’ll walk.”
“Abigail,” he warned.
“Look, I don’t know you. I don’t know how you found out where I was today, and that’s kind of freaky. But as I said, it’s not Friday evening. I’m not going to do as you say and if you don’t want to be with me because of that then so be it. Honestly, I’m not sure I want to be with you at the moment.”
She kept walking, hearing his steps behind her as Kenneth followed on the road. Her heels were murdering her pinky toe. She could feel a blister forming on the side. As she often did, she turned the discomfort into pleasure.
“What is it you want to know?” Preston asked, his voice smooth and calm, losing the commanding tone Master Trice carried.
“What?”
“You said you didn’t know me. I’m asking, what is it you want to know?”
So many things but she started with the basics.
“How did you find me tonight?”
“I came here with a friend.”
“A friend?” she enquired, doubtful. “A gay friend?”
He waved his hand in the air. “I’m not sure what Elliott identifies as.”
“What do you do for a living?”
“I’m an architect and an engineer. I own my own architectural company. I’m half owner of the club you went to.”
“Woah! That’s cool. Really?”
He gave a shrug. “You?”
She arched an eyebrow. “Don’t you already know?”
“Let’s pretend I don’t.”
“My mom owns a publishing company. I’m an editor there.”
“You like to read.”
Reading was her life. “Like? I love to read. It was actually how I got into the whole BDSM thing.”
His curiosity was piqued. “How so?”
“I read a lot of erotic novels, not that those are published by Sinclair Press. I doubt my mom would ever publish something like that. Anyway, I didn’t know such a life existed until then. I was curious about the lifestyle, and I did my research and learned so much more than what was said in the books.”
“Erotic novels? Those exist?” he joked. He had to be joking, right?
“Yes, they do. You’ve never read any?”
“No. I’ve been busy building an empire.” There was Master Trice’s cocky self. She wanted Preston back, if just for a minute longer. She loved her master, but she wanted to inquire Preston a while longer.
“I’ll lend you a copy sometime.” They were quiet for a while longer until she said, “I’m twenty-four.”
“I know.”
“Does it bother you?”
“Does it bother you?”
“A little.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. It’s sort of creepy.”
“I don’t see how.”
“When I was six you were sixteen,” she pointed out.
Was that a smile she saw on his face? “You’ve managed to make it creepy now.”
In their leisure walk, she’d forgotten all about the blisters forming on her feet. The distance from earlier slowly vanished as they moved closer. His arm touched her arm. Abigail had an urge to wrap her fingers around his, show the entire city who owned her, but she held back. They weren’t boyfriend and girlfriend.
“Are you Greek?”
“What gave it away?”
“You’re into Greek mythology and you listen to their music.”
“Hmm. My father was Greek.”
“Was?”
“He died a few years back.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“It’s part of life.” He shrugged in an uncaring way that showed just how much he cared. Just how deep and alive that wound was.
Preston followed her up the stairs to her townhome. She wasn’t upset anymore, but she wouldn’t invite him in. Her house was her sanctuary. She did anything she wanted and didn’t get reprimanded for it because she made the rules.
“You scare me sometimes,” she confessed. “How I haven’t met Lauren because you hurt her. How you know so much about me…”
“I know things about you because of who your mother is. It’s called Google search. That’s public knowledge. That’s not stalking. That’s not controlling your life.”
It did not go past Abigail how Preston ignored her Lauren comment. “You controlled it tonight.”
“I don’t see how. And even if I was trying to control your life outside of our arrangement, it’s not as if you wouldn’t like it. I know the thought of me going crazy to the point of physically hurting you outside of your limits, makes you wet. That’s why you haven’t set them. I haven’t lied to you. You’ve known from the start who I was as I’ve known you’re a masochist, not just a submissive.”
“And you’re a sadist, not just a dominant.”
“Some might say that’s the perfect relationship.”
“Some? What would you say?”
He stepped closer to her. His breath touched her face as he said, “I would say it’s the most profound relationship. I would say we should run from each other because surely one will end up dead. I’m hoping it’s not me,” he whispered the last part.
She raised her chin. She wanted to kiss him. She wanted him to hurt her, really hurt her. She wanted to bleed.
Preston leaned forward and pecked her lips with a quick kiss. “I’ll see you soon. Goodnight, Abigail.”
“Goodnight, Preston.”
