Page 3 of Caging Cessie (Submissives of Rawhide Ranch #20)

One Year Before the Cage

Their condo was silent when Leon walked in, the door clicking shut behind him with a soft echo. He paused for a moment, listening. The condo was usually quiet, even when they were both here.

He paused, listening for those small sounds—the click of keys or the murmured sound of her dictating her notes. Tonight he heard neither.

He dropped his bag on the hallway bench and stepped further into the living room. Today had been an “impress people” work day so he was wearing a suit—dress shirt open at the throat, no tie, because this was L.A.

Cessie was sitting on the floor between the couch and the coffee table, papers spread out on the table’s surface, her phone in her hands. Her expression was distant. Almost haunted.

He took a step toward her, that desperate need to protect her, take care of her, rising in him.

She looked up when he moved, and there was no smile, no acute intelligence in her gaze the way there normally was. Just exhaustion—something deep, pressing, and heavy.

“Hey, baby, you okay?” he asked, though he already knew the answer.

“I’m fine,” she muttered, then immediately winced.

They’d had a fight about her saying “I’m fine” just last month. “I’m fine” is what people said to strangers. Responding with “I’m fine” was a part of the social contract, and usually a white lie.

When he asked if she was okay, or how she was doing, he wanted to know, not get the brush off.

“Just… tired,” she amended. “Another long week.”

“Lots of surgeries?”

“Actually, critical care. I was mostly in the ICU.”

There’d been a time when he’d known everything about what she was doing and learning during her anesthesiology residency.

They’d met and started a Dom/sub relationship at Las Palmas when she was in her first year of residency, started dating romantically when she was in her second year.

Now she was in her final year of residency, and for the past two years he’d learned more about pain management than he’d thought possible.

It had been a long time since she’d say something along the lines of “Do you want to hear the difference between altering ion channel activity and sodium channel inhibition?”

He’d say yes, and then she’d launch into an explanation that always made him feel like a dumbass, even though he knew he’d taken both chemistry and biology in college.

“You didn’t tell me you were being an intensivist.” He was only about seventy percent sure that was the right word.

“I haven’t seen you much.”

Leon’s chest tightened. He hadn’t been home much—too wrapped up in his latest company.

He was betting big with a hefty investment in a company developing new desalinization tech.

Great idea, crazy-smart founders, but both of them were shit at the business side.

And while a venture capitalist’s job varied depending on current investments, this job was proving to include a lot more coaching and mentorship than normal.

The distance between he and Cessie had grown over the last few months, little by little. He could feel it now, the invisible barrier that had slowly but steadily come between them, both of them retreating into their separate worlds.

He slipped off his shoes and dropped onto the couch, his knee almost touching her shoulder.

The weight of the silence between them felt less like a static wall, and more like an avalanche. A wall of blank whiteness barreling toward them.

His fingers brushed her hair, most of which was caught up in a tight bun, but a few strands had escaped near the nape of her neck.

“We could use a weekend away. Just the two of us. Tomorrow’s Friday, I can cancel meetings. We can leave as soon as you’re done at the hospital. We’ll go to Las Palmas.”

She turned a little and her eyes flickered briefly to his, but she didn’t respond right away. That hesitation—small but unmistakable—set him on edge.

“Cessie,” he pressed, his voice soft but firm, “it’s been six months since we scened. We need this. We always feel better after we go.”

She sighed and sat forward, the small strand of hair he’d been playing with slipping from his fingers.

“I can’t, Leon. I wish I could, but I just… I can’t. For the next few months, I’m either on call, or I’m flying home to Nevada to help my mom and brother with everything. It’s not just the weekends—this is my life right now. There’s no time for Las Palmas.”

She gestured at the coffee table, and he finally looked at the papers she had spread out there. A schedule with the hospital logo, her personal planner as well as a wall calendar. Printed flight confirmations. The fellowship applications she was working on for next year.

Colored pens and highlighters were scattered across it all. Her planner and the wall calendar were covered in lines of highlighter with matching text. Each day had at least two colors on it.

“What color are we?”

“What?” She turned to look back at him.

“What color are we?” He sat forward, scanning the calendar. “Blue must be work. Purple is… on call? Yellow looks like fellowship application work days. That means orange is going to Nevada. So what color are we?”

He kept his voice calm, but she flinched at his question, because they weren’t on there. Their relationship wasn’t anywhere on her list of priorities that he could detect.

She exhaled slowly, and he could see the fatigue in the set of her shoulders. It was like a punch to the gut.

“Cessie…” His voice was quieter now, almost pleading.

“You’re going to burn out. You can’t keep going like this.

You need a break, and we need it too.” He slid off the couch onto his knees beside her, his bulk pushing the table a little.

Leon cupped her face in his hands, trying to get her to meet his gaze.

“I’m not asking for a week in Paris. Just a weekend at Las Palmas.

One night even. We go up Saturday come back Sunday.

It’ll be good for both of us. I miss you. ”

Her eyes softened, but there was still that edge of determination behind her expression. “I don’t need a weekend away, Leon. What I need is… more hours in the day. Even if we just went away overnight, I’d spend the whole time worried about the things I’m not doing.”

He swiped his thumb along her cheek before gently pressing it to her lower lip. “And that’s exactly why we need to go, because I can get you to a place where you forget all this for a little while.”

She softened, he saw the longing in her eyes, not just for the physical, but the emotional release.

Then her eyes slid to her calendar, and she tensed.

Fuck.

“We don’t have to go to Las Palmas to reconnect,” she pointed out.

“You’re not listening to me.” He stood up, pacing around the small living room, keeping his voice even.

“I’m not talking about just ‘reconnecting’.

I’m talking about us. About having a weekend where you’re not worrying about your brother or your mom or work.

Where we can just be… together. And you can let go for a while. ”

She exhaled sharply and climbed to her feet. “I know what you care about. But I don’t think you’re hearing me. I don’t need a weekend at Las Palmas to be with you. I need us to carve out time when it isn’t such a big ask.”

“Going away for one night is a big ask?”

“Yes, it is. Let’s have date nights. Twice a week.”

“Date nights?” He could feel his voice getting low and angry, the tension in his chest knotting tighter. Couldn’t she see the problem was so much bigger than that, so the solution had to be too?

Her eyes were sparkling with a matching anger. “Yes, date nights. Which means not coming home and then disappearing into the spare bedroom for hours to work.”

“I only do that because when I come home, if you’re here, you’re either working on your fellowship essays or zoned out watching reality TV. You’re here, but you’re not here, so I might as well work.”

She flinched, the sharpness in his voice cutting through her composure. He instantly regretted it, but the words were out now, and they hung between them like an uncomfortable truth. The tension stretched, neither of them willing to look away.

“I’m trying,” she said softly, her eyes a little brighter now. “I’m trying to balance everything.”

Leon exhaled through his nose, the fight draining from him. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. “There’s a mandatory meeting next month at Las Palmas.”

“Mandatory?”

“Yes, all members have to be there.” He gestured to the table. “It’s one of the weekends you’re in Nevada.”

“I didn’t get anything about a meeting.”

“Have you checked that email address recently?”

It was rhetorical because they both knew she hadn’t opened the email she used for all things kink in months.

“How about you reschedule your trip to Nevada on that weekend.” He took a step toward the coffee table, intending to point out the weekend in question.

“I have stuff scheduled every weekend I’m home. My brother has a tooth that hurts and he needs to go to the dentist. My mom didn’t like the last person I hired to help her so we have interviews?—”

“We should just stop paying for the membership at Las Palmas.” His voice was low and tinged with bitterness. “We never use it. If we don’t go to the meeting, they’ll probably kick us out anyway, but we should quit now. No need to keep throwing money at something we can’t seem to make time for.”

Her eyes flashed with something sharp. “An ultimatum? Either we go to the meeting or you’ll stop paying our dues? And yes, I’m very aware that you pay both our membership fees. It’s right near the top of stuff I feel guilty about.”

Leon didn’t want to argue about it anymore, but the words slipped out before he could stop them. “I’m happy to waste the money if it means I have a hope, Cessie. A hope that maybe, someday, my sub will actually submit to me.”

Cessie bared her teeth, stepping up until they were literally toe to toe and almost nose to nose though he was half a head taller than her.

“Fuck. You,” she said in her crisp doctor voice.

“You have two seconds to tell me you didn’t mean that literally, otherwise we’re having angry sex all over your precious color coding.”

“If you think I’m having sex with you right now…” She stepped back and ripped off her shirt. “You’d be correct. Take off your pants.”

He shrugged out of his jacket as she shucked her scrub bottoms.

“I said pants. All I need is your dick. The rest of you can stay clothed.”

Leon grinned. He loved it when she was like this. All haughty and throwing around commands. Thinking she was in charge when they both knew what she needed was to not be in charge for a little while.

But this attitude always made it more fun when she eventually gave in and submitted.

Leon started slowly undoing his shirt buttons, watching her remove her sports bra and underwear with brisk efficiency.

Soon she was naked, while he still wore pants and his dress shirt though it was untucked and unbuttoned.

Cessie’s shoulders relaxed, even as she raised her chin. He unbuttoned one cuff as his gaze slid down her body.

“If you’re going to take forever, I’m going to take care of this myself.

” She marched toward the bedroom and the little rose clit sucker stuffed in an en-suite bathroom drawer because she used it in the shower.

He waited for her to pass him before he reached out and back to grab her arm, jerking her to a halt.

He spun her around and forced her back against the wall.

She exhaled when her back hit the wall. It might have been in reaction to the movement, but that noise sounded a lot like a sigh of relief.

Relief that he’d taken control?

God, he wanted to tell her to kneel, or to bend her over the back of the couch and spank her, but as much as he thought she needed it, and knew he needed it, something stopped him. They’d always kept BDSM strictly in the club, even after they moved in together several months ago.

So instead, he kissed her. Not soft and sweet, because that was what neither of them needed right now. He devoured her, forcing her to yield to him.

And when kissing wasn’t enough, he slid down her body, stopping only to suck and bite her nipples, before kneeling and hooking one of her legs over his shoulder so he could taste her pussy.

He licked and sucked like she belonged to him. Because she did.

Once she’d come on his tongue, they retreated to the bedroom.

She sucked his cock, but he flipped her onto her hands and knees and fucked her from behind to finish.

Then he got her off with his fingers on her clit and his mouth on her nipples while he recovered.

After this second climax, he climbed between her pretty thighs.

The anger that had driven them was gone, leading to sweet, slow face-to-face sex.

And when it was over and her breathing had evened out in sleep, he stared at the ceiling. The sex had been great, but there was still a sinking feeling in his gut.

Maybe they’d be okay. Maybe they’d make it.

But he couldn’t help but wonder if loving her was like loving Icarus. She was pushing herself to fly so fast and so high that any minute now her wings would burn away and she’d fall.