Page 3 of The Biggest Sacrifice

“Hey, hon! I’m in the kitchen! Dinner won’t be ready for another forty-five minutes. I got a late start. Grab a beer and have a seat on the couch.”

I enter the kitchen, seeing her at the stove stirring a pot of my mother’s famous sauce. She gave a cooking class for all the girls and this was the number one item requested to learn. It’s a fave amongst the men, so I know they were eager to nail it. I grab a beer, then walk to her. She turns her cheek and I kiss it, then smack her ass. I catch her shaking her head with a smile as I walk away.

The house is an open layout, so I have a perfect view of her from the living room. I fall onto the center of the couch, legs spread, and arms draped across the back. I’m going to miss this. The simplicity of it. Why can’t we just live like this forever? Why do we need a title? I think I could give her this, if she would allow me the ease that I need to come and go when called upon. We never had that conversation though, so I don’t know whether she could handle it. She’s not a surface relationship type chick. She’s an all-in, not a bits and pieces. So I fear it would be a moot point.

My body heats. Just watching her affects me and I need to touch her. Hold her. Mark her. Especially if I’m leaving soon. I need to get my fill. It will only make missing her that much worse, but the suffering is the punishment I give myself. I need to love her like I won’t ever have the chance again.

Because I may not.

“Farrah!” I call out. Her body automatically responds to me. She instantly gravitates toward me, wanting to come at my command. Turning from the stove, she takes a step, but then she stops herself and a smile takes over.

I widen my legs at her hesitation and her lips roll in, trying to hide the smile that’s already formed on her lips.

“I’m busy, Tommy.” She turns her back on me and continues cooking at the stove.

My blood boils at her denial.

“Farrah!” I call louder. Her body jumps again. She wants to come to me, but she wants to play the game, too. Farrah has come quite a long way since we first got together. She was demure. Naïve. A ‘nice girl’ even though she hung out with Jackson’s wild sister and even my sister, who can go off the edge every once in a while. But I saw it in her eyes when she would catch me watching her. All those years ago. She wanted to be caught. She just didn’t want to admit it.

“I won’t ask again.”

She shrugs. “Then don’t. I told you. I’m busy.”

I grin to myself. She really wants to be taken tonight. There are days I will beckon her and she submits instantly. She did this at the beginning of our relationship, or situationship is probably the better word, thinking she didn’t have a say. I’ve taught her since then. I want her to push back. Like any powerful couple, you need to spice it up. Sex cannot stay status quo. Now, her defiance mixed with her submissiveness are the things I love most about her.

I need the fight she’s willing to give me and she always seems to read me well enough to know when I need it.

Like now.

Standing, I head to her bedroom, going in search of what I know is in her closet. My spare uniform is here for when I stay over and need to get right to the station. And one suit, with a tie, which is just what I have in mind to correct her attitude.

Walking back down the hall quietly, I catch her watching me, then she spins around. “When I tell you to come to me, I expect you to follow orders. I don’t say it to hear myself talk. I say it because I want you near me. To be with me. I need to touch you. Smell you, need to feel you.” I step closer, further into the kitchen. “Now, you’re stuck with me until I say we’re done.”

She takes a step back, and I follow her backward movement.

“Go ahead and run.” Her eyes glance past me. She’s calculating whether she can get by me without me grabbing her. “You can’t get by me.” Her eyes flare and her lips pull. She likes that I know what she’s thinking. “I’ll let you, though. I like it when you run. I love that look you get in your eyes. The uncertainty of what I’ll do when I catch you. Because make no mistake. I will catch you.”

She dodges to the left and I follow, which elicits a shriek from her. She laughs at her outburst and her face blushes.

“Tommy!”

“Run, little mouse. But your lion is coming.”

I back up, allowing her to dart by, reaching out and brushing her arm as she does so. She screams again, and it excites me.

I turn on my heels, quickly following her, with the tie in hand, as she runs down the hall.

“You’re trapping yourself! You’re making it easy for me.” I call out and slow my walk as she increases her speed. I hear one door slam and then another. “Ahh, a game. Which door is it?”

I slow my steps and listen. I’m trained to hear everything around me.

A sound. A smell. A breath being held. I can hear it all.

I continue to creep down the hall. I know where she is. She slammed two doors to throw me off her track, but I know she’s hiding in the walk-in closet. I knock lightly on the wall as I pass and hear the uptick in her breathing.

And I smile.

Walking into the bedroom, I shut the door slowly.

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