Tara Me - The Training

He chuckled against my skin. “You aren’t falling asleep on me, are you?”

“No, Master. Just trying to savor it all.”

He made his way up my body, stopping at my chest. His tongue gently circled my breast, and he blew warm breath across my nipple. “I want you to savor it all, too.”

He sucked me into his mouth, swirling his tongue, his teeth scraping ever so softly. Repeated it on the other side.

“Do you feel me?” he asked, shifting his body so I felt his need, his desire.

I dropped my hand between our bodies and took him in my hand. “Yes, Master.”

“Do you want me?” he asked, thrusting slightly.

I tightened my grip. “Yes, Master.”

“Show me,” he whispered.

I positioned my legs on either side of him and lifted my hips, aligning our bodies. I took him inside, feeling my body stretch as he filled me.

“Yes,” I said again. Yes, I repeated in my head.

He slid his arm under my knee and lifted my leg high, slipping deeper inside.

“Oh, God,” I said, as he hit a new spot.

“Like that?” he asked, punctuating his question with a thrust of his hips.

“Yes, Master.” I moaned. “More. Please. Again.”

He answered with another thrust, hitting the same spot. His other hand slid to my backside and pulled me close. I whimpered at the pleasure of his hand, there, right where my skin was still sensitive from the kiss of his flogger.

“Feel it?” he asked, and I felt everything: his ownership, his mastery, his protectiveness, his love. Him.

I couldn’t form the words, so I answered with a moan.

“I love you,” he said, in time with his next thrust. “I love you, Abigail.”

He’d told me only once before on a weekend that he loved me, and that had been in response to my own declaration. After I spoke the words first, on the phone. However, at that moment, he was doing more than making love to Abigail, his submissive. He was showing me with his body, his words, and his actions that he’ d conquered his fear of not being able to be both lover and dom to me.

I ran my hands up his back, not realizing until then that I’d shared some of those exact fears. That I’d feared one day he would discover he didn’t want or need both sides. As he continued to move in me, I knew, in the deep recesses of my soul, that he would always need both sides of himself. Just as I needed both sides of myself. As we needed both sides of the other.

He thrust again, and I lifted my hips in answer.

Our bodies took over, speaking for us in ways words never could. As my climax approached, I wrapped my legs around him.

My release built slowly until he reached between us and gently rubbed my clit. I came with a short yelp and shudder that shook my body. He held still, deep inside, as his own release surged through him. I kept my legs tight around him, wanting to keep our physical connection for as long as possible.

Finally, he rolled us over so I rested on top, and he gathered me into his arms. I lifted my face and kissed along his jaw. He sighed.

“Master?” I said, wanting to make sure I had his attention.

“Hmm?”

“I love you.”

His arms tightened around me. “I love you.”

—ABBY—

The end of September found us in Florida. I’ll admit my idea of a nice vacation was not being surrounded by screaming kids, overly tired families, and sweaty, sticky bodies. Unless, of course, you counted Nathaniel’s sweaty, sticky body.

The resort we stayed at was very nice. From a distance it looked like a sprawling Victorian mansion and, if you ignored the constant traffic in the lobby, it was nicely decorated as well. Nathaniel had procured us a roomy suite, and it was relatively quiet on the upper floors.

When we arrived on Friday night, I had my collar on. At first I thought it would be like when we stayed in Tampa for the Super Bowl, but he was quick to tell me otherwise.

“I want you in my bed this weekend, Abigail,” he said.

I wasn’t about to argue with that.

His part in the conference didn’t start until Sunday evening, so for the first part of our trip, our time was ours. Well, ours and the two hundred thousand people who happened to be visiting at the same time we were.

We tried the touristy thing on Saturday. I watched Nathaniel and enjoyed his almost childlike playfulness, realizing just how much of his childhood had been stolen from him with his parents’ deaths. But a day was just about all we could take of the push and pull of the crowds. I supposed we were both relatively quiet people who enjoyed our privacy. This was just as well, considering his plans for Sunday morning. It had somehow escaped my attention that spreader bars, floggers, and paddles filled one of his suitcases.

On Monday, I spent the morning in the resort’s spa, Nathaniel’s reward for the day before. Afterward I lounged by the pool, watching little kids splash around the shallow end. Even though I was half reading, I noticed at once when Nathaniel entered the pool area.

For one, he still had his suit and tie on. Regardless of being in Florida for a conference, no one else I’d seen had visited the pool dressed in such a manner.

Second, he was Nathaniel and he was a sight to behold. As evidenced by the number of women who perked up or talked more animatedly when he showed up. I held my magazine up higher, hiding for just a second as I watched him.

He looked around the pool, eyes scanning faces as he tried to find me. I shot my gaze to the text before me when he started looking at the pool deck.

The ladies’ voices to my right dropping to a low murmur was my only indication he’d found me. I strained to hear what they were saying as it became obvious he was walking toward me.

“There you are,” he said, taking a seat in the empty lounge chair to my left.

I folded my magazine across my chest and smiled brightly at him. “How’d it go?”

“Eh,” he said. “As well as can be expected. Talk, talk, and more talk. Boring as hell, actually.”

“No receptions. No cocktail parties tonight?”

“Nope,” he said. “Just you and me.”

“Heaven,” I said. The night before we’d attended a reception, and the never-ending smiles and introductions had just about done me in.

“It will be as soon as I get out of this suit.”

I thought back to my comment to Elaina the month before about getting him out of his clothes. And our suite did have a private whirlpool. “How about I help you with that?” I asked. “Maybe order some wine from room service?”

He stood up. “Count me in.”

I collected my things and draped my gauzy wrap across my shoulders. I didn’t miss the viperlike stares of the women to my right as we left with Nathaniel’s hand protectively settled around my waist.

Late Tuesday afternoon, he surprised me after he finished with his conference for the day.

“Pack an overnight bag,” he said, finding me while I dug through my bag in search of a book to read. “I have a surprise for you.”

“Overnight? Aren’t we already doing that?” I waved my hand to an unpacked suitcase visible in the open closet.

His eyes were positively dancing with excitement. “Consider this an overnight overnight.”

“Okay,” I said, getting caught up in his playful mood and shoving my new book to the back of my mind. “What does one pack for an overnight overnight?”

“First”—he undid his tie as he talked, and I walked over to help him—“wear the dress Elaina gave you, and—”

“That one?” I asked, my hands stilling at his neck. I held his face, forcing him to meet my gaze. “Where are you taking me?”

His mouth curled up at one end. “It’s not a surprise if I tell you.”

I scowled at him, but he just kept on with the half smile.

“Okay. Fine,” I said. “I’ll wear the gown. There’s no one on this planet who should be allowed to call it a dress. What else?”

“Casual for tomorrow.”

Wednesday was his free day. I narrowed my eyes at him as if I could pick the information from his brain simply by the force of my will.

What is he planning?

“A bathing suit.” He nodded toward the bathroom. “And I suppose you’ll need to bring your two hundred bottles of face cream.”

I laughed. “They aren’t all face cream, and there aren’t two hundred of them. I have only a cleanser, a toner, and a—”

“Yes, yes,” he said, clearly enjoying himself. “All of them. Bring them all.”

“You’re impossible.”

Again with the smile. “Not for you,” he said. “Never impossible for you.”

I huffed and crossed my arms in mock disgust. “How long do I have?”

He gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. “Two hours?”

Two hours later, I was dressed and packed. I’ll admit I felt a bit silly wearing the gown Elaina gave me for my birthday. I still didn’t quite understand why she’d felt the need to give me a gown, of all things. I supposed she knew I’d need several formal items, since Nathaniel attended various black tie events in any given year.

The gown was lovely: an elegant halter dress made of flowing chiffon and belted at the waist. The slate-gray color should have washed me out, but somehow Elaina had known how fabulous it’d look on me.

Still . . .

I’d be walking around a family resort in a formal gown, dragging an overnight bag behind me, for crying out loud. I was willing to bet everyone would look at me like I was two bricks short of a load.

I checked myself in the living room mirror to make sure I didn’t have lipstick on my teeth. Wouldn’t do to be all dressed up with someplace to go—someplace secret, I corrected myself—and to have lipstick on my teeth.

I gave my reflection a satisfied half nod. Not bad. Even for dragging around an overnight bag.

Then Nathaniel stepped out of the bathroom.

Now, I’d seen Nathaniel in a tux before, and it had always been enough to give me pause, but somehow he looked even more . . . more.

I looked him up and down. “Hello, handsome.”

“Hello, beautiful,” he said, planting a kiss on my forehead. “You look too perfect to touch.”

This from the man who packed spreader bars and a wooden paddle for vacation?

“Don’t be silly,” I said, patting his chest.

He jumped backward as if I’d punched him, his face freezing in horror, but almost before I could register what happened, his expression returned to normal.

I blinked.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Oh, yes,” he said. “Just thought I’d forgotten to pack a little something, something.”

I tilted my head. “Did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Forget to pack a little something, something?”

“No. The something, something is perfectly safe.”

I grabbed the handle to my bag. “Are we ready?”

He glanced at his watch. “Almost.” He held up a finger. “Just need . . .”

Someone knocked at the door.

“That,” he finished.

That?

“The bellboy to take our bags,” he said.

Of course. Why did I ever think Nathaniel would have me drag an overnight bag while dressed to the nines?

He opened the door, handed the waiting gentleman our bags, and held out his arm to me. “Ready?”

We walked through endless hallways and corridors on our way outside. I knew we turned a few heads as we passed. From the corner of my eye, I even saw one lady take a picture of us with her cell phone. I chuckled before remembering my name had been in People. Matter of fact, my picture had been as well, thanks to being Felicia’s maid of honor.

Still, that hardly warranted a hastily snapped picture.

I recalled Googling Nathaniel’s name after meeting him in his office for the first time and how I’d found the picture with Melanie at his side. I wondered if that image was still the first to pop up, or if it had been replaced by one with me. I made a mental note to check on my laptop once we made it back to the room.

As we wove our way through the lobby, something interesting happened.

I walked straighter, my shoulders back and my head up. I realized on that walk that I was not merely Nathaniel’s date, his submissive, or even his live-in girlfriend.

I was Nathaniel’s equal.

In everything.

In the bedroom, out of the bedroom. In the playroom, out of the playroom. In the business world, out of the business world.