AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Yeah,” he says again, then disconnects the line.
I dig my heels into my eyes until I’m sure they’re as dry as barren land, then pull open the office door.
Deb finally left the entryway. I find her in the kitchen with Mrs. Jones, milking a cup of coffee.
“Here,” I tell her, handing her the phone back. “I can’t be here for this. I leave you in the capable hands of Mrs. Jones.”
I grab my jacket and my keys, pocket my cell phone and wallet, then make my way to the diner to wait as Remi scrubs himself from our life.
SIX
JULIA
I don’t know what wakes me up. It could be the nightmare clawing at my throat, suffocating me from the inside out. It could be the tears dripping down my face, drowning me from the outside. Or it could be Justin, rubbing soothingly across my cheeks, trying to settle me back into a peaceful rest without waking me up.
Either way, I’m gasping for air when I finally pull free of the night terrors that have returned after years of being free of them.
“Shhhh, baby girl.”
Despite the lights being off, our bedroom is illuminated by the glow of New York filtering in from the window. Justin left the curtains wide open and the opaqueness of the glass at almost zero percent. It’s beautiful and nearly haunting—the way lights from nearby buildings and billboards long ago turned digital stream into our bedroom.
When my vision finally clears and I take in the man beside me, I’m not surprised to find his sleep pants on but his chest bare. Near naked is his natural state, after all. It’s obvious he hasn’t been to sleep yet, either.
Depression has sent us in opposite directions. Justin’s pension for insomnia has gone to dangerous levels, leaving him with little more than an hour or two of sleep for days at a time. I, on the other hand, have taken to sleeping for huge chunks at a time. I come home from work and slip into bed by seven, only to rouse when my alarm goes off the following day.
Or when a nightmare forces me awake.
It’s like we’re grieving, though the person we’re mourning is still alive. We’re grieving the future that was stolen from us—and maybe, trying to figure out how to go back to being us withouthim.
My body is aching, and it’s not the lingering aftereffects of the bad dream. My fingertips are tingling, and I can feel Justin’s hand trailing over my sex, even though his hands are nowhere near that portion of my anatomy.
We haven’t made love since Remi left. At first, neither of us wanted to, I think. I was too wrapped up in my own pain, and Justin was too busy ensuring that I didn’t drown in it.
But tonight…
I need him. More than that, I want him. I feel empty and desperate. I want to be his again. I want to be bound and loved and float above my body. If I’m going to hurt, it’ll be a pain of my own making. A pain that brings me pleasure and love.
“Please, Master.”
Justin startles, his eyes going wide. The blue pools of color that circle his pupils darken into seething want. I see my own need reflected at me, amplified a hundred, thousand, million times over.
I push the blankets down as far as they’ll go, then kick them the rest of the way off. Justin moves back, scooting until he’s at the corner of the bed, and watches with wide eyes and a heaving chest as I climb to my knees, then reach between the bed and the headboard for the cuffs that are hidden there. I have to dig more than I ever have in the past. It’s been so long since they’ve been used.
Justin watches with an impassive face when I move them to the configuration I want. I slip from the bed, pull my top from over my head, and slide my panties from my hips to pool on the floor.
Without waiting to be prompted, I grab a hair tie from my side table and crudely braid my hair back so it hangs away from my face and down the center of my back. I walk around the bed until I’m in front of where Justin sits, still watching me with a calm expression and hungry eyes.
Then I fold my body upon itself as I slide to the floor. My legs bend at the knees, my bum sits back on my feet; hands open and relaxed, palm up on my thighs, and head bowed in supplication to my master. My Dominant. My lover.
“Are you sure?” he asks with a strained voice. His hand cups my face and tilts it to meet his, his eyes flittering back and forth between mine, trying to gauge my commitment to the offer I’ve laid before him.
“Please,” I whine as I surge up to catch his lips with mine. His tongue thrusts into my mouth, and he moans against my lips. It sends a surge of lust and need through my body, my desire pooling between my legs. Color swirls around Justin when he breaks the kiss, a kaleidoscope of emotions bringing purples and blues and pinks and reds to twist about him like he’s locked in a rainbow.
It should be beautiful, and it is—but I know the reason his aura is swirling is because inside, he’s a jumbled mess, and it reflects in the way I see him.
I hope he can see I’m a solid red, ready and willing and frantic to be under him again.
“On the bed,” he instructs me, rising to his full height, and I scamper to obey. I’m already huffing, excited, and eager to be free; coiling in my stomach like a spring ready to pop.
