I hear my mother suck in a breath, bringing me back to the present moment, followed by a long pause. “I don’t think Todd wants anyone else coming,” she finally admits.
I sit there numbly, letting her words sink in. Why am I not surprised? I should’ve known better than to ask a question like that. At least she told me ahead of time. For Thanksgiving she told me she was spending it with Todd only a few weeks in advance, too. But that’s Thanksgiving, not Christmas. There’s a big difference. At least to me there is.
“Oh, that’s okay,” I say evenly. I’m not going to break down over this. I’m not going to break down over this. I have to repeat it over and over in my head.
“I’m really sorry, honey.” Surprisingly, I detect faint emotion in her voice. I ignore it, along with my own emotions threatening to consume me.
“It’s okay, really. I understand.” My voice is even, practically robotic.
“I’ll talk to you soon, okay? I have a plane to catch.”
“Yeah.” Before I can get in another word I hear the line go dead.
Click.
I sit there for a moment, staring at my desk, feeling empty inside. If I could’ve gotten over leaving Lucian for a while, this would’ve been the perfect time for Mom and I to bond, for her to listen to me and give me advice on my problems. But that was a fool’s fantasy. She hasn’t been here for me for so long, and she’s not about to start now. I need to get over it and let her come to me when she’s ready.
For now, I’ll just stay at my apartment for Christmas.
Alone.
Gathering my things, I walk out of my office and head down to the first floor, feeling the unhappiest that I’ve felt in a while.
Chapter 23
Lucian
She’s late. I came in, and somehow I already knew. When I opened the door and saw the empty bed, my breathing slowed, my blood cooled. Anger wasn’t there, but fear was.
She’s left me. I’m still standing in the doorway, trying to convince myself that I’m wrong. I know I am. I paid for her. She can’t leave me. My heart thuds once. She doesn’t care about the money. She never has. Not once has she mentioned it. But still. She’s not leaving me. My own insecurities are creeping in, and I shove them away.
She’s mine. I can take care of her. I am taking care of her. I nod my head and turn from the room.
I let it resonate through me. She’s coming. She’ll be here. I calm my racing heart and slowly close the door with a gentle click. My palm presses against my pocket, but it’s empty. I clear my throat and make my way toward the stairs with a hard expression, devoid of all emotion. I left my phone on the foyer table, but I don’t need it. As I hit the last step, I hear the keypad rejecting an entry.
My treasure. I imagine she’s panicking in this moment. As I walk to the door, my phone goes off. I stare at it, my hand hovering on the doorknob, but it doesn’t matter what her excuse is. She’s late.
I open the door, my expression stern and her body jolts some. Her breathing is coming in quick as she takes a half step back.
“Lucian, I-”
“Sir,” I correct her with a hard voice. My grip on the door tightens as she stares back at me with her mouth slightly opened. The lines are blurred, and that’s obvious. But I’m still her Dom, and she’s late and she’s hesitating.
I open the door wider and she walks in quickly with her head down. “Thank you, sir,” she says uneasily.
I should take her upstairs, but I can’t wait. I need her now.
My fingers deftly unbuckle my belt as I walk to the living room. I stand by the sofa and wait for her eyes to reach mine as I pull the belt from the loops. “Strip and bend over,” I give her the command and lust covers her expression. She’s quick to do exactly what I tell her.
Every second that passes my blood gets hotter, my cock harder. Her heels slip off her feet as she shoves her dress down. She doesn’t hesitate to bare herself to me and bend over the arm of the mahogany leather sofa. She has to balance herself on her toes as her upper body lays flat on the cushion. Her hair fans around her and she looks back at me, the perfect picture of obedience.
My dick pushes against my zipper as I fold the belt in my hand. I run it along her spine and trail it slowly down to her ass. Her eyes close, and she lets out a mix of a whimper and a moan.
“Why are you being punished?” I ask her.
“For being late, for addressing you incorrectly, and for disappointing you and forgetting my place, sir.” I close my eyes behind her and let my head fall back.
Perfection.
She’s so fucking perfect. I pull back my arm and quickly lash the belt across her ass. It hits her with a loud smack! and she lets out a small scream as her hands ball into fists in an attempt not to cum.
“Count them, treasure,” I say calmly.
“One, sir,” she says loudly.
Smack! I aim just below the soft curve of her ass on her upper thighs. I pull back the blow slightly, knowing it’ll be more tender.
“Two!” she yells with her face scrunched up, but her pussy clenches and her mouth opens with desire.
Smack!
“Three,” she whimpers.
This one is higher, in a fresh spot and she pushes her ass up to meet the blow. I steady my hand on her lower back to remind her. She needs to be still. The belt whips through the air. Smack!
“Four, sir.” Four is good. Four is more than enough. She writhes slightly and bites down on her lip.
I drop my belt to the floor, the buckle making a loud clank, and gentle my hands over the marks on her ass. The red lines are slightly raised, and Dahlia seethes in a breath as I press my hand against the hot marks. She presses her ass into my touch and struggles to keep her body from squirming with pleasure. I've administered the perfect amount of pain to give her the endorphin rush she needs.
I eye them carefully, making sure they won’t bruise and there are no cuts. Just four parallel red lines.
I lean forward, my hard dick nestled in her pussy, the fabric of my pants separating our hot skin. I graze my teeth along her naked shoulder and nip her earlobe. My hand travels along her waist, her stomach, up to her lush breasts and I squeeze gently and then pinch her nipple as I kiss her lips. Her mouth opens as I pull slightly, my other hand traveling to her soaking wet pussy.
“Thank me for your punishment, treasure,” I say with a calmness I don’t feel.
“Thank you, sir,” she whimpers, struggling to stay still as I rub her swollen clit and pull on her nipple until it slips from my grip.
The need to punish her pussy and command her body is riding me hard, my thick cock pushing against my zipper as I watch her glistening sex clench around nothing.
I don’t know what to do. We both want this, I know that much. But I don’t know if it’s detrimental to what we’re working toward.
She can see my hesitation and her soft eyes flicker with self-doubt. I hate it. I won’t allow it. My shortcomings won’t cause her pain.
“Is this what you want, treasure?” I ask her in a hard voice, shoving my pants down and stroking my dick. I push her back down and she gasps. Her breathing is coming in ragged pants as she hesitantly looks back at me.