Submitting to Her(36)

I even I wondered if our whole relationship, ever since that first Friday afternoon licking her boots in her office, had been one big long set-up, all leading up to this point where she could take real pleasure in twisting the knife in between my shoulder blades.

The only brightness I could muster was that this was some way of her dealing with our past, so our relationship could be placed on some kind of even keel, upon which we could build something more meaningful than just her crush and my fear of losing my job.

Or maybe I was reading too much into this. Maybe it was just a little teasing, a little psychological punishment. Make me jealous by spending a little more time out with her old flame, while I stewed back here in the hotel waiting for her.

But if it was just punishment, when would this punishment end? How far would she push it? In my research about the whole dominant female thing, I'd read of some truly frightening possibilities. Zoey hadn't appeared to be cruel before, but that last look we'd shared before I left for the hotel had sent shockwaves down by spine.

Perhaps she'd simply return home alone, laughing at the jealousy that had oozed out of my every pore. But I had to concede she did have some legitimate revenge issues to work through.

In the darkness, I also thought about how I felt about her - but did she feel the same way about me?

God, I felt like an angst-ridden teenager again.

I kept coming back to that amazing kiss of hers. While permission to go down on such a beautiful woman was wonderfully intimate and thrilling, it was her tender moments that really got to me. When she was in the mood to adore me as much as I adored her, rewarding me with a taste of near-equality, it made me think this was all real.

I tried to think positive thoughts through that long wait, but knowing how badly I'd treated her in the past, I knew I deserved something awful in return.

After such a long wait, when I heard the door unlock in the room next door, I think I came close to suffering a heart attack.





*





As I'd most feared, it was the two of them returning to Zoey's room that night. She had, as I had increasingly expected, brought the big blond Californian back with her, and I got the sense that I was not going to be in for any kind of easy let-off.

I heard their voices, and now suddenly found myself dreading the very worst.

Was she expecting me to stay here? Or was she assuming I'd see them arrive together, and either shut the door between our rooms or simply vacate the hotel altogether, her betrayal confirmed. I knew that closing the door would only lead to more punishment if I decided to stick with this relationship - and for all the poison that now raced around my veins, I did still crave Zoey like an addict craves his drug.

What surprised me as I watched them enter the room was the strange note of curiosity I now felt - a dark compulsion to see what happened, how far Zoey intended to take this. I had an almost scientific need to see what kind of pain she intended to dole out, now she'd decided to inflict it on me. I was like one of those people that slows to check out the scene of a car accident.

I suspect that shock had somehow numbed me to the horror, the adrenalin making me immune to the awful anguish.

I sat feeling like an explorer preparing to take on the Antarctic - I wanted to see what my body could take, what I could suffer before it all got too much. Hopefully I'd conquer it, I'd reach the South Pole, I'd come out the other side stronger, more ready than ever to be the partner worthy of Ms Zoey Schoenberg.

Maybe I'd come out the other side a wreck of a man - but it would be no less than I deserved.

"No, it's just another room," I heard Zoey say, no doubt in response to a question from her Tight End about the open door. "They only had suites available, you know? Since the company's paying..."

Were they going over towards the bed? I wondered if there was a place I could be from where I could watch without being detected. It would no doubt hurt more to see what was going on, but the force of my curiosity was irresistible.

I lodged myself in the shadows by the side of my bed, from which I could see in through the open door all the way to the side of Zoey's bed. I was pondering how not so long ago I had been lying on that mattress, satisfying her with my face wedged firmly between her thighs.

Now, that handsome idiot Brandon launched himself on to the bed, lying back against the headboard with a look of clear expectation.

Was it just me, or had someone sucked all the oxygen out of my room?

I could understand that Zoey might still have the hots for her old college boyfriend - he was quite a specimen, almost statuesque in his athletic masculinity. He lay there, back against the pillows now, not even bothering to remove his shoes. Even so, surely she'd get to a point where she'd decide I'd had punishment enough.