I met his concerned gaze squarely.
“There was pain,” I finally answered carefully. “But it was good. He was good. He’s incredible in bed. He does things…they aren’t necessarily normal things. Things that I love, though I’m not sure that I should.” I’d been deliberately vague, but I still somehow felt I’d shared too much, and I blushed, looking down.
He patted my hand. “There’s probably a reason you didn’t feel the need to be with a man until him. Maybe those things he does fulfill a need for you. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. We’re all shaped by our childhoods. Accepting your preferences is not the same thing as being a victim. As long as you like what he does, and it doesn’t harm you, I say let go and enjoy yourself. You deserve it.”
I rested my head on his shoulder.
“You always make me feel better,” I told him. I wondered, with a startling amount of panic, if I would even get the opportunity to enjoy myself in that way again.
“Ditto, Buttercup.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Mr. Desperate
We landed early. It seemed likely we would actually make it home on-time as the plane emptied.
My hopes were short lived, however, when we were informed that we were delayed for weather for at least an hour. Thunderstorms were blanketing our route home, though the weather in DC appeared nice and calm.
The main cabin flight attendants decided to venture out into the airport to kill time. We suddenly found ourselves with too much of it, whereas a minute ago we’d been in a rush.
I declined the invitation to join them, wanting to just sit down and check my phone in relative privacy. The pilots joined them. Stephan stayed on board with me, sitting in the first class seat next to the one I was lounging in.
I had my flight bag open on the ground in front of my feet. With trepidation, I dug my phone out, turning it on. I had one missed call, one voicemail, and two texts. I checked the voicemail first.
I had to force myself to keep breathing as James’s voice sounded in my ear.
“Hey,” he began. There was a long pause before he continued. “I don’t want you to think I’m a stalker or anything, but I’d like to hear your voice if you get some time to call me when you’re on the ground. I can’t stop thinking about you. I know you’re flying and your phone is off, but I still couldn’t seem to keep myself from calling.”
“I want to see you tonight. I’m sure your’e sore.” His voice thickened suddenly. “I need to kiss every part of your body that I left hurting today.” He cleared his throat. My hand was trembling. “I hope you think of me every time it hurts you to sit down. I miss you.” The message ended, and I lowered my phone shakily. Apparently he wasn’t done with me, after all.
My sudden and profound sense of relief was mortifying, but impossible to ignore.
Stephan was bent over writing next to me. He liked to be on top of his flight paperwork.
“Everything ok?” he asked me without looking up.
“Yeah.” I said, my voice small. I looked back at my phone to check my messages. They were from James, as well.
James: How are you? Did you like your gift?
James: Thinking of you. You were incredible last night. Absolutely perfect. I can’t stop thinking about it. I’m having a hard time getting any work done. I’ve never been this distracted in my life.
I was reading his second text for maybe the sixth time when my phone rang in my hand, startling me. When I saw that it was James, my hand went to my pounding heart. I answered after a moment of agonizing indecision.
“Hello,” I said, my voice breathless.
“Bianca,” James breathed, his deep voice sounding delighted. “I didn’t think I’d be able to reach you. How are you feeling?”
“Good,” I answered. I glanced at Stephan, then got up to pace to the back of the plane.
“Are you hurting?” he asked.
“I’m very sore,” I told him. I heard his breath catch.
“Can I come to your house tonight?”
I sighed regretfully. “We’re delayed in DC. There’s no telling what time I’ll get home, so tonight’s no good. I have to run some errands in the morning, but I should be free tomorrow night. We were going to pick up a turn tomorrow, but I guess that’s not happening with this delay.”
“Just call me when you’re back in Vegas. I can come over late.”
“I’ll be tired and cranky.”
“I’m coming over. Call me when you land in Vegas,” he said, his dom voice coming out, making it an order. “What errands do you need to run in the morning? Maybe I’ll tag along.”