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That was all. In his mind, it was all that needed to be said.
There were three other voice mails, but she didn’t recognize the numbers, so she left those unplayed.
She opened her inbox feeling better than expected. Outside of her father’s voice mail which she knew would be dreadful, nothing seemed too bad.
Until she pulled up an email from the college she was currently attending. The length was short and the language terse, but the message was clear. She’d been expelled. As a result of unbecoming conduct.
Just like that. They deemed it to be so, and it was. No opportunity to respond or appeal or even to tell her side. She tried to tell herself it didn’t matter. That the small private all-girls college wasn’t where she’d wanted to go anyway and that she’d only done so because it was the only way he’d allow her to move across the country.
But for some reason, it did matter.
What was she going to do now? Where was she going to go?
She wasn’t sure, but one thing she knew without a doubt, she was not going home.
It was much laterthat night before she had the chance to reflect on the time she spent with the Dom she knew as John. Againsther typical rule of not looking at anything posted online concerning her, she had peeked at a few sites.
There was nothing to document either of their arrivals, only photos of John putting her in the cab he’d called for her. She reached for her phone, recalling the feel of his hand on her shoulder as he helped her into the back seat and how he’d asked for her number.
Had she given it to him? She couldn’t remember, but she knew she hadn’t asked for his nor had he offered. Could he be one of the three unknown voice mails? She hated how much she hoped he was.
But he wasn’t. Not that she could tell since they were all hang-ups. She didn’t see John as the type to hang up. He’d definitely leave a message.
With a huff she put the phone on her nightstand and crawled into her bed to replay her time with John.
He’d accepted her no-sex rule and hadn’t pushed her to change her mind. A lot of the Doms she’d played with before had pushed and pushed hard. Not John though. No, he’d tied her up, telling her while he did so that she was a filthy slut and had to be punished. Then he proceeded to spank her. First with this hand, and next with a crop he knew how to wield just right.
Basically, he pushed every button she had along with a few she hadn’t known she possessed. By the time he moved to a cane, she was ready to beg him to forget the no-sex rule. His own breathing had steadily increased to where he was nearly panting, so she doubted he’d object.
But he did.
He’d stepped away briefly, probably to check on her, but she didn’t know for sure, and in that moment of break, she told him she wanted to remove her limit on sex. He didn’t speak for a few seconds, but walked back toward her and stood by her side.
When he leaned close to whisper in her ear, she shivered.
“That’s good to know, Ronnie,” his voice was rough. “But it’s our first time together, and I don’t feel comfortable renegotiating in the middle of the scene. Neither one of us is in the proper headspace to do so.”
A wave of rejection swept over her, and something must have shown on her face because he placed a hand on her shoulder.
“Next time,” he said, in what sounded like a promise. “We’ll talk more about what you really want out of a scene.”
She could only nod because her knees melted into jelly and she was thankful for the way he had her bound. If it weren’t for that, she’d no doubt have wound up a puddle on the floor.
“Are you okay to continue now?” he asked, and at her whispered yes, he picked back up where he’d left off.
Was he really Terrence Knight?
Her mind couldn’t comprehend how John could possibly be one of Hollywood’s leading men.
In fact…
She sat up in bed and grabbed her laptop from the nightstand. Opening a search window, she typed in his name and studied the images it pulled up.
She couldn’t decide one way or the other. John had dark hair, whereas Terrence was known for his golden locks. Granted, she had to admit he could have been wearing a wig. It wasn’t as if she paid much attention to his hair.
The other big difference was that 99 percent of the photos only showed a clean-shaven Terrence. Pictures of him with any sort of five-o’clock shadow were hard to find, much less one with as much scruff as what John had been sporting today.
Suddenly tired and definitely feeling a bit of sub drop, she shut her laptop down and curled back under the covers.
