The Commitment(75)

I sighed. It was all about trust for Drake. Complete submission was complete trust. I trusted him not to hurt me even when I was totally under his control, tied up, bound, blindfolded, helpless. He trusted himself enough with me that he could tie me up and have me helpless, at his mercy and all that would happen was that I would experience pleasure I never believed I could feel in ways that I never imagined possible.

He kissed me then, deeply, passionately, his arms pulling me against him, squeezing me so tightly. When he pulled back, he held my face between his hands, his gaze moving over my face.

"Now you're mine – every part of you. Completely."

I was his completely – he'd claimed every inch of me as his own.

He was right. This was a barrier of mine he'd broken down, a line he'd been able to cross, to erase. One of the acts I'd been so reluctant to try again, one I said I'd never enjoy, I'd let him do it to me and I had enjoyed it. I was shocked at how much. It was at once carnal and pleasurable, forbidden and now, an act that had broken down even more firmly the last vestiges of the wall between our complete intimacy.

I was completely free of my fear of anal and it was only in being completely helpless, tied up, under his complete control, that I felt free.





CHAPTER TWENTY





The next morning, Drake woke up with a bad cold, his nose plugged and his throat sore. I was sore as well, from our previous night.

"I think I've come down with the flu," he said, pulling the covers around him even more tightly.

I felt his forehead. "You're hot. You have a fever. I'll get you some Tylenol," I said and left the bed. While I was in the kitchen, I checked my email. There was one from my father asking me to call him.

I picked up my phone and dialed his number.

"Hi, Daddy," I said when he answered, his usually gruff voice sounding strained, his nose stuffed up. "You wanted to talk to me?"

"Yes, sweetie. I'm under the weather and need you to go to a fundraiser, represent me there and provide a donation on my behalf. Do you think you and Drake can attend? It's tonight from 5:30 to 6:30 and there's a dinner afterward but you can duck out of it if you want. Usual rubber chicken event. Sorry for the short notice, but both Elaine and I have come down with a nasty virus. I thought I'd be better by now but I feel terrible."

"Oh, Daddy, I'm so sorry. Drake must have the same thing you and Elaine caught. He woke up with a fever so he won't be able to come with me. I'll go alone."

"Great. Heath is out of town and you know Christie. There should be some people you'll know from Doctors Without Borders, so it won't be all bad. Besides, Nigel will be there, so you won't be totally alone."

"No problem."

"I'll send the limo to pick up and give the driver the check as well as my comments for you to read out when you hand over the check. Thanks for this, sweetie."



I returned to the bedroom and gave Drake the glass of water and pills.

"I have to go to a fundraiser tonight for my dad," I said, watching him while he swallowed the pills, grimacing because his throat was sore. "Both he and Elaine are sick too and can't go. He was going to present a check and so he wants me to go on his behalf. Do you mind? It'll only be for an hour."

"No," Drake said, shaking his head. "By all means, go. I feel like total crap. I'll watch those funny home videos or something."

"Nigel will be there so I won't be totally alone. My dad said I could stay for the wine and cheese portion of the night, and skip the dinner."

"Stay with Nigel for the dinner if you want," Drake said. "But if you're bored, skip it by all means. Don't come back just because of me."

"I don't want to stay without you there," I said and stroked his forehead. "I want to come home and make dinner for you and then lie here and watch some old movie."

"Sounds like a date to me."



I went to the studio for only a couple of hours while Drake slept, doing some work on the second canvas. When I returned to the apartment in Chelsea, Drake was still on the couch watching television. I dressed quickly, and left him with a box of tissue on the coffee table, cough lozenges and hot tea with lemon and honey in a mug and went to the street to wait for my father's limo.

I looked forward to seeing Nigel again. I always enjoyed his company. He was so boisterous and jovial, always happy to see everyone and meet new people. When we were together at an event, he'd tell me snippets of gossip about everyone of any note who was in attendance and his observations about their character were hilarious. No wonder he had his own show on television.

The limo dropped me off at Zone, a bar and club on West 39th in the Empire district. It was sleek and high end, and hosted the Doctors Without Borders fundraiser. I entered the sparkling interior and made my way up to the second floor bar where the fundraiser was being held. There were already two dozen people there standing around in small groups, drinks in hand and a smartly-dressed waiter circulated with trays of appetizers. I saw Nigel's head high above the rest of the people and made my way to his side. When he saw me, he turned away from another guest and his face lit up.