Page 128 of S is for SEX

“Well, they’re best in low sunlight, so maybe if we take them to the north side of the house and plant them over there…”

“Which way’s north,” I asked.

He shook his head, “Where the front door is.”

“Oh,” I said with a nod.

“There’s a planter over there under the window outside the kitchen, we can put them in the planter, it’ll look nice,” he said.

“A what?” I asked as he picked up two more of the pots.

“A wooden fucking box affixed to the side of the house, Em. You probably didn’t notice it because it’s empty. Grab those two and come on,” he said as he began to push the wheelbarrow toward the gate.

“You can’t go out front with your shirt off,” I said as I bent over to pick up the flowers.

He stopped the wheelbarrow and turned to face me. “Oh no?”

I shook my head. “Neighbors will complain.”

He cocked one eyebrow and stared. “About?”

“Uhhm. Half-naked bikers?” I shrugged.

The thought of another woman walking by, driving by, or peering out her window at him made me angry. I would have never described myself as a possessive person, nor had I ever been the jealous type, but with Jackson, things were much different. As comfortable as I was in his presence, and as pleased as he made me with his treatment of me, I lived in constant fear of losing him. I really had no reason to believe my fears were warranted, and in fact, they weren’t, but I harbored them nonetheless.

“Well, can I take off my shirt?” I asked.

“Sure,” he shrugged as he pushed the wheelbarrow through the gate.

“Don’t think I won’t,” I said.

He stopped, turned to face me, and stared for a moment. Standing with a flower pot in each hand, I wondered what I might have gotten myself into. As I stood knowing he was going to do or say something to make me regret my smart assed remark, he grinned and lifted his chin slightly.

“Take it off,” he said.

I gazed around the yard. The back yard was protected slightly by a privacy fence, but it in no way prevented everyone from seeing in the back yard. The neighboring homes were two story houses, and anyone from a second story could see right into the yard if the wished.

“Come on, let’s get these planted,” I said as I took a few steps in his direction.

“Take off your shirt, Em,” he demanded.

I lowered the flower pots to the ground, glanced around the yard, and lifted my shirt up and over my braless boobs. Now standing shirtless in the blazing sun, I felt slightly embarrassed, but the embarrassment only lasted for a few seconds.

As the sun warmed my bare skin, I began to feel sexy and increasingly horny with each passing second. With the shirt dangling loosely from my fingertips, I waited for further instructions. I had learned over the last few months I wasn’t only acting as a submissive to fulfill Jackson’s desire, but I was doing so for myself. From what he had explained, and it made perfect sense, I desired pleasing him as much as he desired being pleased.

In short, I yearned to make him happy with me, and knowing he was pleased with my actions, decisions, or thoughts pleased me to my core.

After a few minutes of admiring me, he waved his arm toward my shirt-filled hand.

“Put it back on,” he said flatly.

I pulled the shirt over my head and down along my sweaty torso. Surprised my hardened nipples hadn’t shredded the fabric as I pulled it past them, I situating it along the waist of my shorts and waited for his next demand.

He pointed toward me and wagged his finger up and down.

“Take ‘em off,” he said.

“My shorts?” I asked.

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