“Submission given freely is what I need from you.”
“I don’t know how.” It was my honest answer. “I want you too, Rett. I do. I want you to take me, but I don’t know how to be what you want.”
Releasing my hair, he took a step back as his dark stare scanned over the white dress. He ran his finger over the bare shoulder. “You do, Emma. You’re doing it. You’ve been doing it.”
I shook my head, knowing that I wasn’t what Rett Ramses wanted. I was stronger than this. I survived tragedy by being strong. Submission was weakness. I couldn’t be weak. Frustration and unmet desires brought tears to my eyes.
His command took me by surprise. “Lift your dress.”
I could do this.
Once the material was balled up to my waist, Rett stepped back and scanned my exposed core. When our gazes met, his head tilted as he stepped closer and wiped a tear from my cheek. “Don’t be scared. I’m looking at you, bare and exposed.” He looked toward my breasts. “Your nipples are so hard they’re tenting your dress.” His finger came to my cheek. “This is submission, Emma. You’re doing it.”
“I don’t know...” I didn’t finish my sentence as Rett turned me around and unzipped the back of the dress.
“Let it fall.” He eased it from my one shoulder. The material fluttered to the floor, pooling around the high heels. “Now turn back to me.”
I did. The necklace felt heavy around my neck as I waited.
He reached for my chin and lifted it. “I want to see your eyes. I also want you to touch yourself, one hand in your pussy, the other on your breasts.”
My breathing grew shallow as I did as he said.
I woke with a start to the dense darkness of the suite.
My hands were where they’d been in the dream as I stared out into the darkness.
“Rett?”
I wanted him to be there.
I didn’t want him to be there.
Confusion clouded my reality as dreams and truth crashed, and I fumbled with the bedside lamp. Warm light flooded the space, erasing the shadows and my hopes that I wasn’t alone.
The room around me was empty. I threw back the covers and quickly went from room to room, turning on lights and scanning the spaces I was beginning to recognize as mine.
Everything was as I’d left it.
Rett wasn’t with me.
His presence, his encouragement, and his touch were only a dream.
“Damn you, Rett,” I cursed as I lay back on the bed and spread my legs. Disappointment was a bitch that I was unable to remedy. Sexual frustration, though, I had been there before. I could remedy that. Closing my eyes, I reached down, finding my own slick core. In the dream, he’d told me to touch myself.
This was my doing. “I will not be a doll left in a box. And I’m not submissive.” My declaration floated in the air unheard by anyone but me.
If Rett wasn’t going to get me off, I would.
My fingers found my clit, rubbing a rhythm until the tension rebuilt.
The orgasm was nothing to get excited about. Yes, it gave me satisfaction, but it didn’t compare to what he could do or had done.
I wasn’t going to think about that.
As I drifted off to sleep again, my only wish was that it hadn’t been Rett behind my closed eyes as the unimpressive orgasm hit.
The next day, haunted by memories of a dream that wasn’t real and dressed in a pair of soft slacks and a long off the shoulder t-shirt, I decided that it was time for me to start having some control.