Bound to be Tempted: Emergence, Book 4 Page 22
She shook her head and jerked to attention. “No.”
“No what?”
She stepped back. “No. I’m not going home with you, Carlton. I need to be alone. My life is a fucking mess. I need to deal with this on my own.”
“You’re my submissive, baby. I can’t just leave you here to figure things out alone. That’s not going to happen.”
“See,” she screamed, “that’s just it. Am I? Am I even submissive? I’ve lived my entire life under my father’s thumb. I submitted to him for years, just like my mother. That’s disgusting, Carlton. I’m not a real submissive. I just learned how to appease my father. I never ever want to bow to anyone like that again.”
“Maggie.” He stepped forward, but stopped dead when he saw the glare she shot him.
“Don’t. I can’t talk about this anymore now. And I’m not going with you. I lost so many years of my life submitting to my father. I can’t do it anymore. I’m done. I’m not a real sub, Carlton. Can’t you see that? I’m a byproduct of my father’s mission to save me from myself.”
“That’s not true, Maggie. The two things are not the same.” He’d explained this to her before. Apparently she hadn’t understood.
“Go.” She pointed at the door. “Please, Carlton. Just go. Let me be alone. Don’t come back. I can’t stand the idea of anyone telling me what to do right now.”
He opened his mouth again, but then shut it. If looks could kill… He had no choice. He needed to leave. This wasn’t over, but Maggie was frantic, and the only way she was going to calm down was for him to leave her to grieve alone.
He trudged to the front door and opened it. When he turned back to glance at her, she was still staring him down with daggers. He started to tell her to lock the door, but thought better of it.
And then he did the hardest thing he’d ever done in his entire life. He left.
Chapter Seventeen
Margaret took Monday off work. She hadn’t slept and she couldn’t bring herself to get out of bed. She knew she would have to face the world eventually, but for hours she just lay there staring at the ceiling.
She wondered if her cousins were outside even now, watching her apartment. She shivered from head to toe and pulled the covers up higher under her chin.
She couldn’t face Carlton yet. It infuriated her to no end that his efforts toward safety had been well-founded. She wasn’t crazy. People had been following her. And she’d been too pigheaded to tell him because of what she’d thought was his irrational concern over her safety. Apparently he’d been correct to worry.
Her phone rang several times. She never looked at it to see who called. She could imagine. Her mother. Her father. Carlton. Jason…
She wasn’t too stupid to realize she would have to face her parents eventually. She’d left with no explanation. She would have to go back and give them a final piece of her mind in order to put that situation to bed once and for all.
Someone knocked at the door. Margaret groaned and glanced at the clock. Noon. She closed her eyes, willing the person to go away. She didn’t have the energy to speak to anyone on that mental list, and if by chance the guest happened to be one of her cousins, there was a good chance she would shoot first and ask questions later. Jail sounded good right about then.
The knocking continued. She threw a pillow over her face to block out the insistent sound, but it never stopped, and all she managed to do was deprive herself of oxygen. Finally, she dragged herself to sitting and then pulled to a standing position. She felt as though she’d been beaten. In a way, she had.
She padded down the hall and tiptoed to the front door to peer out the peephole.
Jason.
A huge sigh escaped her lips. He was definitely the least of the evils. She decided to let him in, opening the door and stepping back enough to allow him entrance.
The inside of the house was exactly as she’d left it last night, a mess. She didn’t give a fuck. “Jason.”
He furrowed his brow. “You okay?”
“No?” She sighed again and shut the door.
Jason held up a drink carrier she hadn’t seen in his other hand. “I brought coffee.”
“Bless you.” She made her way to the couch and curled up in one corner, pulling a throw over the loose T-shirt and shorts she’d worn to bed.
Jason took a spot next to her and wiggled a steaming cup from the cardboard carrier. “I figured you wouldn’t have had any yet today. Or at least you’d need more.” He smiled.
She took the cup from him and sipped the elixir. “I guess you spoke to Carlton.”
“Yep.”
“He told you everything?”
“More or less. He was pretty upset. I’m sure I missed a few of the details.”
Margaret nodded. She leaned back and stared at the ceiling. “I think I need to distance myself. I’ve been going to Emergence for all the wrong reasons. I should move to another city. Start over. Reclaim my life.”
“And you think that will cure you of your submissive tendencies?”
She jerked her gaze back to meet his.
Jason continued, “Listen. I know what you’re thinking. I mean, I sort of understand where you’re coming from, but what happened with your father has nothing to do with how you interact with Carlton or anyone else for that matter.”
“How do you know? How do you know I’m not just acting the mousy submissive, kneeling at Carlton’s feet because my father raised me to obey his every fucking command?”
“I don’t.” Jason shook his head. “I won’t deny that your father influenced you. It’s a matter of nature versus nurture. Did he cause you to be submissive? Or would you have been anyway? You’ll never know. But the bottom line is, it doesn’t matter.”
“How do you figure? If I spend my life allowing some Dom to order me around and control my every movement, how is that any different from what my father did?”
“Choice.” He spoke that one word and stared at her.
“Huh?”
“You have free will, Margaret. You’re an adult. You make your own choices now. When you were a kid, you had no free will. You had to do what your parents said or suffer the consequences. When you were a teenager, you were forced to continue feeling that lack of choice in order to bide your time and wait for the moment you could escape.
“Hell, even kidnap victims make similar decisions. They might pretend to agree with their captors for weeks on end, waiting for an opening so they can flee. As soon as their attackers get lax, they run.
“It sounds like that’s how you lived under your father’s roof for years, waiting, hoping, biding your time, playing his game until you could escape.”
She nodded. He was so right.
“Well, you did. You aren’t there now. You made it out. Did it shape you? Probably. But the type of submissive you are now is not the same. Now, you’re the one with all the control. Do you think Carlton runs your life? Hell no. You run his. He has to wake up every day praying you’ll still submit to him. All Doms do. As soon as you say no, it’s over. All the power is yours.”
God, why did he make so much sense?
“Giving freely of your power to a Dom is a choice you make because you like how it feels to be controlled. For you, it’s sexual. For others, it’s domestic or for pain or any number of reasons. But you’re a sexual submissive, Margaret. It’s freeing for you to let Carlton make choices for you. Right?”
“Yes.” She moaned around the word. Damn him.
“That’s all you. You have the power. Does Carlton force you to do anything you don’t want to do?”
“No.”
“See? And when you use your safe word, he stops, right?”
“Yes.”
“Look, I’m not trying to talk you into anything. If you stay with Carlton, great. If you leave town and find another Dom,
that’s also your right. But I want you to think about your choices hard before you act. Your father has already won so many battles against you. He forced you to give up your girlfriend, your friends, your high school activities, a normal college life, and the list goes on. Don’t let him win again. Take this bull by the horns and fight.
“I know you don’t want to hear this, but Carlton’s right. You need to go back over there and face your parents. Tell them who you are, and give them the final choice to shut you down. If they do, good riddance. Some people are far too toxic to keep around, even family.”
“I know.”
“I’ll be happy to go with you if you want.”
“Thanks, Jason. I’ll think about it.” She released the grip she had on the throw, completely unaware she’d been holding it so tight her knuckles hurt.
“Promise me you won’t go over there alone.”
“I won’t.”
“Don’t let them win, Margaret. This is your life now. I’ve seen you with Carlton. You two are fantastic together. He loves you more than life itself. He would do anything for you. And I think you feel the same.”
“I do.”
“Well, then don’t run out of town and give him up simply because you’re afraid of your submission. It’s who you are. Face it head-on. If you run, your father wins this round too. Talk to Carlton. Let him help you. You won’t be disappointed.”
When Jason left, Margaret was more tired than she had been before he arrived. She crawled back into bed and slept for so many hours it was dark out when she awoke again. Her stomach rumbled. She hadn’t eaten in almost two days. Not since breakfast with Carlton on Sunday.
She heaved her sorrowful self out of bed again and padded to the kitchen. The blessed freezer had a wonderful assortment of dinners to choose from, and she grabbed one without looking at the box, tossed it in the microwave and tapped her foot while she waited for it to heat.
When the timer went off, she peeled back the plastic surface and shoveled the pasta into her mouth so fast she was still starving when the tray was empty.
Easy fix. She repeated the steps again. This time, she managed to sit at the table and slow down the fork-to-mouth process to a reasonable speed.
As she sat back and took a deep breath, she thought for the first time in over twenty-four hours that she might possibly live.
She had to. Her father was a jackass. She needed to tell him and get on with her life. Every minute she spent moping around in her apartment was another minute he stole from her. Jason was right. She couldn’t let him win. And until she confronted her parents, she would be living in limbo.
She stood from the table, deposited her fork in the sink and her trays in the trash and went in search of her phone.
The least she could do was text Carlton and let him know she was fine. Leaving him hanging was cruel. It wasn’t his fault she was so fucked up. He’d only been trying to help.
She wasn’t sure she could face him yet. She was too emotionally drained to endure another round with Carlton. She needed more time to sort through her thoughts before she made any decisions. But he at least deserved a text.
There were six texts from Carlton. The latest one had been from that morning before Jason came over. She figured Jason must have talked Carlton into letting her be after he’d visited. She quickly typed a message to him.
Hey. Just want to let you know I’m fine.
Two seconds later she had a response.
Maggie. Thank God. I’ve been… Well, you know me…
She smiled. Lol I do. Don’t worry so hard. I need time.
She stared at the screen, knowing he wouldn’t be finished. I know. I’m here for you. Day or night. You know that, right?
Yes. And I appreciate it. Thank you.
I love you.
She choked up when she read the last line, and a tear ran down her cheek. God, how she loved that man back. She set the phone aside and padded to the bathroom. A warm bath would help lessen the pounding in her head.
She moaned as she leaned back against the side of the tub as it filled, closing her eyes and letting the water wash over her.
Tomorrow she would face Carlton. Tonight she needed more sleep. She couldn’t possibly go to her parents’ house alone. It wouldn’t be prudent, and she would need someone for moral support after she saw them.
Carlton was the only man for that job.
After her bath, she felt much better. Relaxed. The weight on her shoulders didn’t seem as heavy. Carlton loved her. He did. It was real. She could trust him with her heart. With him by her side, she could face her demons and come out on the other side.
Was she submissive? Yes. Even after two days without Carlton, she missed the way he took care of her, the way he made her want…need…feel… She missed his commanding voice and his hands on her skin. He could draw out her deepest desires and turn her into a ball of sexual energy with a look. And she missed that. Craved it. She wanted to claim it back. If he would have her, she was his.
She fell asleep with a smile finally.
On Tuesday, she woke up alert and rested and went back to work. She thought about Carlton all day, unable to concentrate on anything without his face popping into her mind, the way he smiled or smirked at her when she didn’t do what she was told. The way he narrowed his gaze when he was about to let her come or come himself. She couldn’t stand another night without him.
She texted him at three. Can I come over tonight?
His quick response wasn’t surprising. Of course. You don’t have to ask. I’m here for you when you’re ready.
Thank you. I’ll be there after work then.
I’ll make dinner, he typed back.
She hesitated only a second and then added, I love you.
There was a long pause. She stared at the screen, worrying her lip.
I love you too, baby. So much it hurts. Come home.
Margaret’s heart beat faster. I’m already there.
She left work early and went straight to his house, opening the garage door as though she lived there and had a right to do so. She took a deep breath and fortified herself to slip back into her submissive role.
She entered the house through the garage as usual, her head bowed. Carlton was in the kitchen, and whatever he was cooking smelled delicious. She knew he wasn’t expecting her to assume any sort of role yet, but she wanted to move on with her life, and the best way to get that started was by submitting.
“Hey, baby.”
Without comment, she set her purse on the counter by the door, kicked off her shoes and removed her clothes. She’d intentionally dressed to Carlton’s specifications that morning—no panties and a Carlton-approved lace bra that did little to hide much of anything.
Carlton stepped up to her and tipped her head up to meet his gaze with a finger under her chin. “Baby, if you’re not ready…”
“I am, Sir.”
He held her gaze for a long time, his eyes boring into her, undoubtedly assessing her mental state. Finally, he smiled. “You’re spectacular.” He released her chin. He nodded toward the dining room table.
She knew she was meant to go kneel in her spot. And she did so without hesitation. As she assumed his preferred position, knees spread, hands behind her back, spine long, an overwhelming relaxation settled over her. The stress of the last several days had left her tense. Returning to work today had been a challenge.
She wasn’t sure if Carlton understood, but she needed this. She needed normal. She needed to relinquish control and let him take the reins for the rest of the evening. It would relax her and rejuvenate her to repeat the process tomorrow.
She inhaled slowly as she watched him move about the kitchen. Italian. God, that man could cook.
By the time Carlton settled next to her with several platters of food, her stomach was growling.
She moaned around each bite, glad he didn’t comment on her noises. Apparently he wasn’t a stickler about her dining enjoyment. His noise rules applied more aptly to his dining enjoyment, specifically when the feast was her.
When she was full, she waited for him to finish eating and clear away the dishes.
He took her hand and helped her to her feet before leading her down the hall to the bedroom. He left her standing in the center of the room and slowly circled her while he removed his shoes and then his shirt and then his jeans. He approached her from behind, snuggled up against her back and stuck his chin on her shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her center and crossed them under her breasts. His lips tickled her ear as he whispered, “Are you sure, baby? We don’t have to do this if you’re not ready.”
“Yes, we do, Sir. I need this. It relaxes me.”
Carlton lifted both hands to cup her breasts, and he grasped both nipples to pinch them tightly, tugging them outward.
She gasped, rising up on tiptoes and fisting her hands at her sides.
“This is what you call relaxed?”
“In the end, yes, Sir. The more you demand of me before you take me, the higher the bar is raised, the more relaxed I am in the end.”
He twisted her nipples just enough to get her attention. His lips settled against her ear again. “I understand, Maggie. Perfectly. I just don’t want you to push yourself to do anything you’re not ready for.”
“On the contrary, Sir, I’m ready for anything.”
There was a pause as he released her nipples and soothed them with the pads of his thumbs. She knew he was thinking about her words. “Anything?”
“Yes,” she said on a breath. “Please, Sir. Stop tiptoeing around me. I hate it. I need normal. I need you inside me. I want to look in your eyes and see the same possessive gaze I saw before all this happened with my parents. I need to know you still see me the same way.”
He squeezed her breasts and spoke into her ear again. “You are still you. And I still adore you. If you’re sure you’re ready, I’ll take you to the peak, baby.”