Page 37 of Rebellion

How I’d hoped to hear from you. I even imagined you’d come back to me. I know better, but it didn’t mean my hopes weren’t dashed on the rocks of my mistakes when my email, phone, and life remained empty.

I know where you are, and that I could come to you, but that isn’t what you want, is it? It’s killing me, but I sit here in my cold apartment, thinking of you. I want you.

I don’t know how long I will last before I give in and search you out, beg you to forgive me.

Yours,

—Gray

No. Gray couldn’t come here. I was barely learning to live again, without him. I turned off the tablet and the lights. I crawled under the covers and while my body still wanted release, but my mind wasn’t in it.

I tossed and turned but must have fallen asleep at some point because I woke with a start to a rapping at my door. My head felt like it weighed more than a refrigerator and felt as solid.

I stumbled to the door and peeked out.

“Mistress? Are you okay? It’s nearly one in the afternoon.” Dominic stood at my door, his voice filled with concern.

“It is? Sorry, I was exhausted.”

“There’s someone here to see you.”

No.

No no no no no.

Gray didn’t come down here. “Who is it?”

“Your, uh, trainer. He asked you to meet him in the Master suite downstairs.”

Phew. “Okay, thanks.”

I showered and dressed in a simple black tank and a soft pink jersey skirt. Even after I put on make-up and brushed my teeth my reflection still taunted me. Was it possible to have a BDSM hangover?

Before I went down I opened my tablet and quickly wrote a reply to Gray.

Grayson,

I’m not feeling very forgiving. Do not come down to Austin, because I can’t see you.

—A

I deleted the whole message once, retyped exactly the same thing, and hit send before I chickened out. If I was going to spend time with Sir this afternoon, whether to learn submission or Domination, I needed to clear my mind of Grayson.

I opted to go barefoot, lesson learned, and then made my way down the stairs. Already I felt clearer and my head wasn’t so heavy.

Sir sat in the same chair I’d left him in. He was fully clothed, no dangly bits hanging out. Had he been here all night?

Surely not.

I crossed the room and sat on my knees in front of him.

He ran his fingers into my hair and twirled a strand. “Excellent. Are you ready to continue?”

In for a penny, in for a couple hundred pounds. “Yes, Sir.”

“You look tired. Did you sleep?”

“Yes, Sir.”

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