Raw Ch. 09

I awoke Monday morning refreshed. Remembering my thought before I fell asleep, I exaggerated my stretch as I sat up, letting the sheet drop to my waist. I turned to reveal my breasts to my lover and frowned. Malcolm was sitting on the couch, fully dressed, watching TV.

I cleared my throat.

He glanced at me. "How long until you think you're ready to go?"

"Good morning to you, too!" I laughed as I wiggled my chest at him.

"Sorry, but we're in a bit of a rush. There's a snowstorm coming later today. I got our flight changed to a nonstop one leaving this morning. I let you sleep as long as I possibly could."

I threw back the covers. "Give me ten minutes."

He clicked off the TV and crossed to the bed. "God, woman. You've pranced around here naked so many times. I haven't had the time to show you any appreciation."

I slapped his hand away as he cupped my breast while I reached for the underwear he'd left out for me. "You can play when we get home."

"I will hold you to that promise."

I let him get in a kiss before I grabbed the rest of my clothes and went to the bathroom to change so he wasn't distracting me.

True to my word, we were heading to the elevators within ten minutes. He had already checked us out using the automated service, and we were able to get a cab without too much hassle. I don't think either of us was breathing normally until we were in the air. Especially, since it started snowing as soon as the cab dropped us off at our gate.

It had snowed some while we were gone, but the roads were clear enough that we could drive home to Wheaton. I couldn't believe that just seventy-two hours earlier, I'd thought my life was over and I was going to be committed for insanity. Then again, this past weekend had seemed like a crazy dream.

"Pinch me. Did we really just fly to Canada where I sold my books at a bondage convention?"

"Yes, we did. You did."

I leaned against the kitchen counter. "It just seems surreal. I'm a bit exhausted."

"I sure hope not too much."

I didn't have a chance to ask him what he meant as he took my hand and dragged me to the stairs to our second floor bedroom suite. He waited until we'd reached the bed before he stripped me. I tried to help, but my hands were shaking too much.

"God, I've missed your body." His voice was a low rumble, and I gasped as he pushed me face down on the mattress.

His hands cupped my ass and squeezed the cheeks, pulling them apart. Then he was sinking into my pussy from behind. I cried out, gripping the duvet. He felt so fucking good. His fingers pressed into my hips, gripping almost painfully as he rocked in and out of me.

We were both panting, urging each other on, when I cried out as his cock hit my G-spot. I could hear his labored breathing through the pounding of blood in my ears. I came just before he stilled, and then his deep growl filled the room before he maneuvered us both onto the bed.

His hand found my breast, and I drifted off to the feeling of his fingers stroking my clit. I think I had another orgasm. Or maybe I was dreaming again.

###

I went to see Dr. Pritchard on Tuesday. I thanked her profusely for her prescription. Just as she had ordered, the weekend excursion to Canada was exactly what I had needed.

The trip boosted my morale in more ways than in the bedroom with Malcolm. It was also apparent in my visits with the doctor. Instead of describing what had depressed me since our last session—which had been my M.O.—I told her about the convention and my amazement at the vast options when it came to bondage. About how the demonstrations renewed the fire within me, encouraging me to continue embracing my inner desires.

Then I told her about Ginger and the impromptu book signings. That it seemed to give me a sense of purpose to befriend a younger woman in the scene, as new as I was at it myself. I had exchanged Emails with my new friend, and I had every intention of keeping in touch with her although we resided in different countries.

As usual, Dr. Pritchard did not say much. But I could tell she was proud of my progress by the way she smiled as I talked. And took less notes. I did not bring up knowing how my fiancé knew her. I thought that little fact wasn't vital to my healing process.

It seemed like my writer's block had departed with us on the flight to Canada as well. Within the two weeks since our return, I had cranked out several more chapters, much to Sue's delight. I couldn't write fast enough...and sometimes couldn't wait to get through breakfast with Malcolm each morning. No more did I carry the worry that book number two wouldn't make the deadline for publication this year.

After Malcolm got home from school every day, he graded his papers or worked on lesson plans. Then we both cooked dinner and retired to the Star Wars den or went upstairs to play before we went to bed. I was happy again. And he told me often that he was so glad to have me in his life.

We had not discussed the wedding at all. I think we both knew that there was no rush. Yet while I had been content with our current relationship, I felt giddy when I thought of the fact that I would officially be his wife, and he my husband. I even found myself going on tangents to look at wedding dresses when I was researching online for my book.

Like the year before, it was obvious that we were going to have a very cold winter. There had been several days in January where the temperature was below zero, and the forecast didn't show any improvements in the next week. Although we had the heat on, there were nights where I wished we had a fireplace in the bedroom as we had at the house on the coast. We layered blankets on the bed instead and used our naked bodies to keep each other warm. It was more than effective.

The first Sunday of February, it was especially cold. I had woken up shivering. My eyes still closed, I rolled over to snuggle against Malcolm only to find him not in the bed. When I'd managed to rub the sleep from my eyes, I saw that the clock read it was past ten. I groaned and wrapped one of the blankets around my body as I hurried to the bathroom.

Haphazardly dressed in a baggy sweater, sweatpants, two layers of socks, and my slippers—my hair pulled into a messy ponytail—I wandered downstairs. It was silent. Maybe he had gone out to run an errand. I checked the kitchen, but there was no note. It looked like I was on my own for breakfast.

I set the Keurig to make a cup of hot chocolate and scrounged the cupboard for something edible. I had settled on a granola bar and was retrieving my filled cup when I heard footsteps coming from the basement. I'd just turned around when I heard the voices. Two of them.

The door opened. Malcolm emerged. And so did Jesse.

The cup fell from my hand and shattered at my feet. I barely felt the hot liquid as it started to soak through the layers of slippers and socks. Three thoughts raced through my head: First, I looked like shit. Second, I wasn't wearing a bra. And third, what the fuck was Jesse doing here?

~ H