“You need to send her home.”
There’s a pause. “And why is that?”
“I just saw her in the break room. Go out and take one good look at her, man. She’s dead on her feet. She shouldn’t have come in. I don’t even think she’s safe to drive. There’s no way she can get any useful work done in her condition.”
There’s a shuffling sound as Declan stands and walks to his office door, then a moment of silence before he returns. “You’re right. She’ll probably be passed out at her desk before the end of the day. Any idea what’s up, though? You know my stance is that people who party too hard the night before don’t get a free pass.”
“You know her dad has cancer,” I reply, not wanting to give away too much. “And she doesn’t look hungover. My guess is family emergency, rather than a Monday night bender.”
“I’ll talk to her. But Axel, why do you care?”
I snort. “Look, man. I saw an employee who’s obviously not in a position to work today but came in anyway. I’d send anybody on my sales team home if they came in looking like that, and you know I’ve done it, too. She just happens to be in your department, so I’m referring it to you.”
Declan sighs. “Fine. She’s not on anything so time-critical that I can’t give her an extra day. But if I talk to her and she says she was partying, she’s staying.”
“Fair enough.”
Another text comes through just as I’m hanging up the phone.
I’ll manage.
A spark of disappointment curls through me. My submissive was given an order and refused. I’m trying to compose a reply when another comes through.
You talked to Declan?
Yes.
I should be mad, she replies. But…thank you. I really am in no condition to be here.
Do you need a ride home?
Traffic should be lighter now. I’ll be careful.
Text me when you get home. Then you are to sleep. Do you understand?
Yes, sir.
I lick my lips, relieved that she’s obeying again, especially about something as important as her health.
When you wake up, I want you to text me your plans for how you plan to relax tonight. You ARE to relax.
When she doesn’t reply immediately, I realize that she’s probably driving. It’s about fifteen minutes later when my phone chimes with a text.
Home. I’ll stay home tonight, call for some Chinese takeout, and binge-watch whatever crap catches my eye. Will that do?
Perfect. Text me when you wake up.
I will.
I still want to spend the evening with Harper, but instead of taking her to dinner and having her submit at the club, I’ll instead make sure that she spends the time recovering.
That afternoon, I knock on the apartment door, listening for sounds of movement. A moment later, it opens, and I see Harper looking sexy as fuck in a ratty t-shirt and sweats and with disheveled hair. Maybe it’s because every time I see her at work or in the club, she’s so put-together, but this Harper is incredibly appealing. Not vulnerable because she allows it, but because she’s in no condition to put up walls.
I hold up a takeout bag. “Your Chinese takeout. I didn’t know what you would want, but I got a selection to choose from.”
She gapes at me for a few seconds, then moves aside to allow me in. “If we don’t eat it, Lee will. That girl’s a vacuum when it comes to leftovers. Says the extra time in the fridge lets the flavors intensify.”
I smile. “I wanted to take you to dinner and to the club tonight, but you’re in no shape for that, so I’m going to stay here for a bit and take care of you.”
“You don’t need to,” she protests.
“No, I don’t,” I agree. “But I want to.”
She gives me a soft smile. “Yes, sir.”
I look around. “Where is your roommate? I don’t see her.”
Harper motions and leads me into a small but serviceable kitchen. She grabs a couple of plates from a cupboard and sets them on the table with a couple pairs of chopsticks.
“Lee is out of town on a work trip for a couple days. I don’t expect her back until Thursday night.”
“Then it’s especially good that I came over. You should have somebody nearby.”
Harper chuckles. “I’m not sick. I just had a rough night.”
“Either way, I’m glad you’re not alone.”
She pauses, an uncertain expression on her face. “Is this okay? Takeout and television binging are a far cry from dinner at a fancy restaurant and sex at the club.”
I stand, walk over, and pull her into my arms. “It’s okay because I say it’s okay. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
The vision of me holding an exhausted Harper in my arms later that night after she'd fallen asleep in the middle of a show played on repeat in my head for days. She regularly submits to me, taking my cock over and over until she screams from the pleasure of it, but somehow the trust, vulnerability, and intimacy of her being asleep against me was almost as powerful a feeling.
Unquestioned obedience is no longer enough. I need her to be happy.
Her smile when I can’t decide where to take her for dinner and ask her what she wants is brilliant. On the nights following a scare with her dad, she’ll tuck herself against me, and all thoughts of having my way with her are cast from my mind. Then, there are the nights that I plan to merely take her to dinner, but desperate kisses in the car lead to her begging me to take her to the club. Carefully laid plans change on a whim because she needs something different.
There’s a part of me that’s terrified. I’m a man who needs control over every aspect of his life, and I no longer have that where Harper is concerned. She is beautiful and obedient. She does as I demand, but I don’t have full control because her needs don’t always correspond to my desires.
It’s more than just sating my lust for her and seeing her innocence give way to the debauchery of my world. There was a time I thought that seeing her spread before me, wanton and willing, would cure me of this insatiable desire. Instead, I’ve learned that Harper Sullivan is like an addiction. I want more, more sex, more of her time, and more of her in the rest of my life.
The nights without her are long and empty, and my world only seems right again when I have her near. Her smile makes me smile, holding her in my arms gives me the sense that everything is right in the world. Plunging my cock into her willing body is more intoxicating than alcohol ever could be.
But it’s more than that. I’ve learned that being vulnerable around her is as powerful a feeling as seeing her bound before me. Discussions about her fears surrounding her father’s cancer turned to me sharing stories from my childhood, telling her about mine and Maddox’s parents and how they died from an overdose.
It’s the first time I’ve ever let somebody into those damaged parts of my heart, and instead of recoiling in horror, she reminds me of how I’ve worked to overcome it. I never expected conversations about my past to become precious, but as we spend more time together, I look forward to them almost as much as I look forward to the next time I take her willing body for my own pleasure.
I do still enjoy taking her to the club, though, almost as much as she seems to enjoy it. Tonight, Harper is on her knees, hands tied behind her back, desperate tears streaking down her face as I take her to the edge over and over but don’t let her come.