Page 33 of Wes

At that word, my dirty mind goes to a place where only Maria and I exist. Somewhere I can do all the kinky things I’ve been fantasizing about doing to her. I’m dying to savor again her very addictive taste.

Henry, one of the volunteers who looks after the children, comes up to me asking to take Mark away and I let him while I keep my gaze trained on Maria. She transfers bubbly Felicity to Trish’s arms before going around the room, interacting with each of the kids. She doesn’t gloss over them pretending to listen as many in her position do just for show when they have company. She engages with them in a meaningful way, making eye contact, mentioning past conversations, and offering advice.

I fight the raging desire that never goes away when I’m near this woman. This is not the place or time for it. I won’t sport a hard-on in the middle of a room full of kids. So, I focus on my admiration for Maria. A feeling born of the things I’ve learned about her from my observations and the stories people have been telling me since I’ve started coming here.

She’s touched so many lives, changing them for the better, that I meant my words to James just now with my whole heart. Maria’s mission seems to be making other people’s journeys easier in any way she can, which is an admirable goal to have. And although she makes it look like smooth sailing that is a hard feat to accomplish.

In fact, if I were to be honest, I would admit to myself I might not be worthy of her. Yes, I help charities and all that stuff that filthy rich celebrities do. Yes, my motivations stem from bad personal experiences and go beyond photo ops or good PR like others. But I don’t tackle the day-to-day things that actually matter in someone’s life the way Maria does. She’s like a fucking superhero literally saving the world because she cares. While I’m just a dumb drummer entertaining people for a shitload of money; then, sprinkling some of that dough around in bank accounts of good causes, telling myself that’s enough.

Watching Maria now as she listens to kids’ complaints, hopes, and dreams, I know she’s taking mental notes to address those issues later in the best way she might. That’s her modus operandi and my heart swells in my chest with an unexpected jolt of pride.

Strike that.

The feeling doesn’t surprise me. I respect the hell out of her. And that’s why I’ve been trying my best to hold my own dark desires in check. Our forced proximity has turned my sex life upside down. I’ve gone from screwing multiple women on a daily basis to jerking off under cold showers every morning and most evenings.

My libido always operates on overdrive. It has been the same since I met Maria. Except, I haven’t found an outlet for it the way I used to. Despite trying to hook up with random women, and even some I already know, nothing has worked. Since my return from South America, I’ve gone to bars planning to pick up a willing lady just to return home alone. I’ve asked out a couple of former lovers but bailed out last minute with some lame excuse or other.

Fuck!I scream in my head when her pixie blonde head snaps around and she catches me ogling her.

The zing of lust that travels down my spine when her nostrils flare consumes my already battered synapses. I can’t go on like this. No other woman’s taste will satiate my hunger for Maria.

As we move toward the door to leave for the stairs, I blurt in a voice low enough for her ears only, “Have dinner with me.”

I choose to utter the invitation as an order to test her response to my authority.

She doesn’t disappoint when her shoulders quiver as she straightens her spine. At the same time, a thick vein beats in the left side of her neck and her chest heaves. I also don’t miss the way she sets her jaw in a hard line. My blood rushes through my veins down to my shaft at the evidence of her strong will and self-control.

Some people believe a Dominant takes pleasure in their submissive’s lack of spine, which proves they don’t understand the first thing about the lifestyle. I would never crush a sub. The thrill of this kind of power play consists in winning their trust, so they relinquish control to me. In turn, I provide them with the best orgasms they’ve ever had.

Encouraged by the way her body has reacted to my first test, I grin. I stop at the top of the stairs and gesture for her to go ahead of me as we climb down the steps. I’ve got more research to do. I glide an index finger down her neck, from the end of her short hair to the middle of her back. The skin revealed by her dress creases under my finger.

I lean down to whisper, “Don’t try to deny you’ve missed me too.”

She shakes her head and I brace myself for a verbal battle, listing in my mind all the arguments I’ll use to disarm her. Just to remind her who’s in charge, I wrap my fingers around the back of her neck when we get to the ground floor.

She looks up over her shoulder, locks eyes with me, and rasps, “What time are you picking me up?”

If we weren’t standing in the middle of the fucking entrance hall to her orphanage, I’d swoop down and kiss the smug off her lips.

Instead, I drop my eyes to her mouth. As the seconds stretch and the air gets charged by the sparks flying between us, her cocky smile vanishes. She sinks her teeth into her bottom lip. I allow my mouth to curve up as I thumb her lip free. I smooth the reddened spot, licking my own bottom lip.

She hisses.

I grunt another command, “Be ready at seven.”

She huffs. “Seven thirty works best for me.”

I drag my stare back to hers to find indignation churning there. I offer her a curt nod and concede, “Fine. You can pick the time. Just know I choose everything else.”

With a wink, I blow her a kiss and turn to leave. The pounding of her designer high heels on the marble floor follows me as I exit the building.

Yet another test she’s passed.

I feel good and tonight looks promising.

* * *

Standing at the kitchen island, I sniff the air and let the fragrant aroma of the tomato sauce fill up my lungs. I sprinkle the last shreds of Parmesan and Mozzarella cheese, scatter fresh basil leaves, and drizzle olive oil on top of the red layer covering the eggplants. I spin around, pull down the glass door of the oven, and settle the white baking dish in the middle of the rack.

---