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“And I owe you an orgasm from that night. So I am trying to pay you some restitution for my leaving you high and dry that evening. Although, you were never really dry.”
“Funny. What about leaving me on edge at your office?”
“No, Angie, that was intentional denial of orgasm. For your choices.”
“What choices?” I snap back.
“Your lack of being able to choose what your heart and body want.”
“Whatever,” I huff.
“So you think about me while you touch yourself?”
I blush at his comment, thankful that he is not here to witness the effect he has on me. “How do you know I was thinking of you? I could have been reading my novel.”
“That’s fine. You can rely on your smut book. But something still tells me your mind substitutes me as the hero. Hmm…and by your moan, I would say I am correct. So your orgasm was epic?”
I swallow, steadying my playful fingers. My touch feels great—as it always does—but sadness gnaws at my conscience, sending guilt on a rampage.
“I’m waiting for an answer, sweetheart.”
“It never occurred.” My voice is barely a whisper.
“Why not? You get interrupted?”
“No.”
“Then why no orgasm?”
I don’t know. I never know. “I just didn’t.”
“And you give me yet another reason to worry that you aren’t taking care of yourself properly. Finding sexual release, baby, is healthy. When was the last time it actually happened?”
I gulp and bite at my tongue. Is there no end to the humiliation?
Bed, swallow me now…
“Angie?”
“Hmm?”
“Answer me.” His words are clear and precise. His command over me scares me. He makes me want to please him.
I remain silent, not wanting to divulge any more than I already have.
“You know what happens when you push me,” he warns.
“Never,” I breathe, barely able to hear the word myself.
“Never?”
I nod.
“Angela?”
“You heard me,” I snap in frustration. The words come out in a whoosh, my emotions buried deep in my gut.
“Yes, I heard you. But what do you mean by never?” He pauses to wait for my answer and then sighs. “As in you do not know what one feels—”
