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Boom. I’m done.

“Ira!” My voice is completely muffled by her hand, but the intent is still there. Everything in my pelvis strives to keep her inside me. No more thrusting. No more games. Come inside me now or suffer the consequences!

I may be a sub, but my body has other ideas, you know.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” I know that grunt. As shivers wrack my body, I try to relax my core in preparation for Ira’s orgasm. “Take me, darling.”

I do.

Moans of pure ecstasy spill into her hand. I don’t see the wall in front of me anymore because there’s that hot white light before my eyes. It’s not just my climax. It’s hers too, thrusting against me, touching me in my innermost places, and marking me as hers for who knows… maybe the twentieth time since we started this debacle.

She’s right. It feels so good. Physically, mentally… emotionally.

“Shit.” Slowly, Ira pulls out, lowering the leg she was holding up and making sure my blouse is straightened. I remain bent over, reveling in my good feelings and the sensation of her still permeating me. Who knew that two months ago this would be one of my favorite parts of lovemaking? “I think we both needed that.”

Sure. I didn’t know until now, but sure, Ira.

She helps me pull down my skirt. I’m under no delusion that wearing pants is a good idea this week. It may be cold outside, but I’m happy to wear my limited selection of skirts if it means easy access for my Domme. Sheesh, what’s gotten into me? I’m really in the mindset this week. I don’t know if that pleases me or makes me worry even more.

Who the fuck am I?

Ahaha. I don’t care.

There’s a bathroom across the hall. Naturally, I make a beeline for it before we leave for lunch, because, uh, yeah.

“Katie.” Ira puts her hand around my wrist, stopping me in the middle of the hall. “No.”

She’s kidding, right?

“I want you to see how far you’ve come since our first night at my place,” she whispers into my ear. “And I want to know that anyone sniffing around you would be in for a rude surprise should they get their hands on you.”

Oh God, I’m laughing. That is not the response Ira wanted.

“Let’s go get lunch.”

I at least convince her to let me wash my hands. And her as well, because you know, rubbing a woman’s clit before eating lunch isn’t the most hygienic thing.

Lunch is down the street, at a cozy – but expensive – restaurant that gets a lot of traffic at this time of day. I walk awkwardly, aware that I have not gone to the bathroom since having very arousing sex in a closet. Of course, nobody around us knows what’s happened, what’s going on between my legs. Only Ira knows. Which makes her so arrogant as she curls her hand around my waist as she informs me that she will be paying for lunch.

I could say something. If I weren’t wearing this collar, I would dither between insulting her or rolling my eyes. One nice thing about the collar is that I don’t have to think about anything unless I want to.

We sit next to each other at a curved table. Ira orders for me, which unnerves me at first, except she ordered something I would more than likely pick for myself anyway. I don’t say no to a glass of wine. I need it.

“So how is it?” she asks me over the rim of her glass.

“How’s what?”

I’m cleaning out my purse while we wait for lunch. One of those things I do when I need to kill some time because as you ladies know, if you don’t stay on top of that shit mushrooms will start growing and you’ll never realize when you’re down a tampon at the most pivotal moment. Or both. Yuck.

Ira watches with mild interest. I pluck receipts from my wallet and bunch them up into a pile to be thrown out later.

“Anything. How’s anything?”

I glance at her, at that smug look on her face. I know what she means. “Moist.”

That took care of that smugness right quick.

“You have such a way with words.” Her chin rests on my shoulder, breath hot in my ear, not that I need the stimulation. When her hand curls against my thigh, however, I sigh. “No wonder you’re an accomplished grant writer. Maybe you should write a grant for the hotel.”