Part 17 (1/2)
ELENA.
Seeing another young couple on the floor of the club was downright enticing. I'm not sure what that said about my own feelings for this lifestyle, but at this point I was beyond caring. I felt Thorne, standing next to me; his hand was holding mine and I felt this strange connection to him. My palms started sweating when the male started walking around the female on the X. Thorne gave my hand a gentle squeeze and there was warmth in his being there. It was wrong, watching a display like that but because we were both a part of this big secret, it was a thrill I couldn't even begin to understand.
”Come with me,” Thorne whispered in my ear.
I heard the words on his mouth and every syllable that forms on his lips was inviting me, literally calling out. Before I knew it, he was leading me towards the back-rooms, guiding me, and when we finally found one that was empty, his hands shoved my body against the wall, rough enough to be noticeable but not enough to hurt. His mouth closed over mine almost instantly and his hands were still holding my shoulders in a firm grip. This kiss felt different than any other kisses I'd enjoyed with him. He was getting more demanding with every encounter, bolder than before.
”You liked it,” he said, his voice hoa.r.s.e, as his eyes burned through me. ”You liked watching them, didn't you?”
He kissed me again without waiting for an answer.
”Yes,” I responded, when he broke off. ”I liked it.”
”You wanted that to be us?” he said and though he sounded confident I could also see the urgent expectancy in his tone.
I lowered my head, because I was still a little embarra.s.sed. He lifted my chin up with his finger, bringing it closer to his face. ”Don't think,” he said. ”Stop thinking. Just tell me what you feel. Did you want that to be us?”
After a pause, I finally admitted it.
”Yes,” I said. ”I wanted that to be us.”
The sentence hadn't even finished when I felt Thorne's grip on my shoulders again and he turned me around until I was standing with my face against the wall of the back-room. His hand reached beyond my dress and inside my thong and I couldn't help moaning with pleasure.
”Thorne...”
”You're wet Elena,” he breathed down my neck. ”You're so f.u.c.king wet, you know that?”
His hands were not the only thing making me pumped full of desire. It was also his voice and the way he was saying those words, even the way he said my name. There was something extremely gratifying about hearing it all in his deep, husky voice.
”You're so f.u.c.king hot,” he said.
His hand continued making me pumped full of desire, until the combination of all this made me so unbearably hot, I was having trouble holding myself back. The whole idea of doing this here, in one of the back rooms, knowing what people outside were doing, all of it was just...
”Thorne!”
That should have been his clue to keep going, but instead he stopped.
Turned me around so I was facing him again.
”You still want to know what it means to be a sub?” he asked.
The dynamics of the world had changed. Everything had changed. We were not the same couple anymore. We were not the same people.
”Yes,” I replied, with conviction. ”I want to know.”
”I can show you,” he said. ”But you have to make a commitment.”
I was so hot for him I really didn't care what commitment he was even talking about.
”Okay,” I said dismissively, but his fingers were lifting my face towards his.
”Being a sub means your body is mine,” he said. ”It means you can't do anything unless you have my permission. It means if I say you can't come, you can't come until I say you can. Do you understand that?”
”Yes,” I said. ”I understand.”
He kissed me again.
”Good,” he said. ”Then we have a deal.”
ELENA.
Thorne was all I could think about.
I remembered the things I saw the couple doing, while I was at work and I remembered everything that happened between us. According to the acommitment' we were supposed to stay silent about everything to the people at work and we weren't going to talk about it with anyone else. So the entire week at work, I watched him come and go and acting like he didn't even know me, when we had just had a raunchy quickie the previous night. I watched him talking to other people, and acting professionally when he had just sent me the dirtiest text. The fact that I was the only one who knew that side of him, the only one who was in possession of that secret, was exciting. The worst and the best was when we greeted each other in the hallways or in the elevator, surrounded by other people and had to act casual.
Apart from the dirty texts, Thorne always sent me one text every night, which was nothing but one single word: GOODNIGHT. And I was supposed to reply with the same word. No Emojis, not even a picture message. No questions or answers. And I was supposed to wait until I got his next direction. The weekends couldn't come fast enough for me. I sometimes laughed at the hilarity of this situation, when I was thinking about this over lunch break with my two office besties who had no clue what was going on, but every time I saw Thorne, it all felt real. Especially when he texted me at night. Our secret. Our beautiful, delicious secret. And then, finally, Friday arrives, and not a moment too soon. My heart was doing the whole cheerleading b.u.t.terflies routine and I couldn't believe how anxious I was. I didn't even think it was possible to feel that way about someone anymore.
When Thorne walked in to work on Friday morning he looked the same: crisp white s.h.i.+rt under the power suit, composed, business as usual. He barely even looked in my direction. I didn't know how he could do it. At times, it was impossible to think that he might actually be the guy who made those plans with me, but the confirmation that his planned texts provide cancel every doubt. By lunch the antic.i.p.ation was killing me. Eventually it was time for everyone to go home and I told Tristan and Alex I had some work still left to do and they frowned but left anyway because thankfully they had plans, just like everyone else. But even after most of the office was empty, Thorne's a.s.sistant was still working at her desk. An hour pa.s.sed by and I watched her going into Thorne's office, heels clacking. I could see him through the gla.s.s too, busy working, his attention completely diverted to something on his desk.
A part of me wished that Thorne would give me a glance, and not just the kind of glance that he gives his co-workers. That he should announce to the world what was going on. And another part of me, that seemed to be rearing its head a lot lately, actually wanted this routine, craved this secrecy. It was actually having fun in the waiting, in the knowledge that the added secrecy was only making things better.
Finally, it was time for me to leave.
ELENA.
I found myself alone in the ma.s.sive suite that Thorne had already booked. I took a look around, tried to get comfortable with the surroundings, but I still felt a kind of cold anxiety. So I headed into the shower, and afterwards found my wardrobe for the day already hanging in the closet. It was a nice little designer dress, and there was a set of beautiful heels in my size, right next to the bed. I put those on, dressed up and poured myself a gla.s.s of wine, sat on the couch in the den and turned on the TV. I had barely finished the first gla.s.s when I heard Thorne's footsteps. He was still in his work clothes and the minute I saw his face, I realized again how much I had missed him, how much I had wanted to see more of him. He came towards me and started kissing me right away.
”I thought I was going to explode if I didn't see you another minute!” he said.
His words confirmed what was in his eyes. I was relieved to see he had been waiting and suffering the same way that I had. He took the wine gla.s.s from me and took a sip, then set it aside. He started kissing me and we started making out on the couch, in a rush, as though it was a first time for both of us-and the strange thing was that's exactly what it felt like. ”Elena,” Thorne said. ”I need you. Right now. I don't think I can wait.”
Suddenly, the whole Dom/sub thing comes to mind and I didn't know how I was supposed to respond.
”Are we allowed?” I asked ”Allowed?” he said, looking perplexed. ”What do you mean?”