“Hello.”

“Sophie, is that you? You sound out of breath.”

“Yes, it’s me. I was just working.”

“Working? Is that why you’ve been too busy to answer my emails?”

“I haven’t been checking emails. Sorry. Yes, I’ve been super busy getting ready for the kids to start back to school. I meet my new students in a week, and school starts the week after that.”

“That’s why I’ve been trying to reach you.”

“What? I don’t understand.”

“Which is why you should check your emails,” he snarled.

“You have no right to get snippy with me,” I said primly.

He cleared his throat. “Fine. I hadn’t wanted to trouble you unless you wanted to talk with me, but it sounds like I’m bothering you, so just check your email please.”

It sounded like he was about to hang up. “No, wait! I’m sorry. It’s just that I really have been busy and I’m trying to focus on work… after things with the training didn’t work out.”

“That’s what I’d like to talk with you about.”

“My training?”

“Yes. I, uh, I bought you a plane ticket.”

“A plane ticket? To where?”

“To Seattle. I wanted to bring you up here, to where I live. For a few days… so we could talk.”

“We can’t talk over the phone?”

His laugh was bitter. “Apparently not. I can’t even get you to return an email. Look, Sophie, if this is a bad time… I mean, with starting school and all. I hoped we’d have a chance to meet again before you started school, but I guess I was being too presumptuous.”

“No, no. It’s not that. It’s just a surprise. I’m not good with surprises.”

“Okay. Well, when you have a chance, please read my emails. Then let me know. Will you do that?”

“Yes, sir,” I said, falling easily back into the rapport, the relationship we’d shared over the past few months. “I’ll do that.”

“That’s all I ask,” he said, and I thought I heard a smile in his voice.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

I was antsy during the plane ride. Not that flying bothered me, it was the anticipation of seeing Quentin again that had me all undone. I brought a book by my favorite author, but even that couldn’t hold my attention. Next I tried a movie from my tablet, but when that didn’t work either, I gave up and closed my eyes. Scenes from my time in Houston with Quentin played in my head like my own personal movie, and I felt my panties grow damp as I recalled the amazing things he’d done to my body.

Would there be any of that during this visit? One of the things Quentin was so good at as a Dom was being clear about his expectations for me and my behavior, but in this instance he simply said he wanted to see me, to talk to me. When I asked him to clarify further, he was uncharacteristically opaque.

“Let’s see how things go when we talk,” he’d said.

“Do I need to bring any toys?” I asked, hoping for a clue as to his frame of mind.

“No,” he’d said simply, and told me he would pick me up at the airport and that the return portion of the trip was paid for, but with an open return date so I didn’t have to feel pressured to stay any longer than I wanted to.

Before we landed, I made a trip to the restroom to comb my hair and apply some lipstick. I wanted to look my best for him. When the plane taxied down the runway my foot began tapping with excitement. As I traipsed up the jetway into the airport concourse, a gate agent waved to me. “Sophie Davenport?” she asked and I nodded, already checking my pocketbook to be sure I hadn’t left my phone or my tablet on the airplane.

“A gentleman left this for you.” She gave me a folded note. I opened it to see the words “Meet me in the bar” scrawled across the ivory card in a hand I didn’t recognize.

I swallowed hard and scanned the airport for the nearest bar. Considering the current security precautions, it would have to be outside the government checkpoint. Good. I’d have a moment to get my bearings before seeing him. What would he say? What could be so important that he couldn’t say it over the phone or via Skype?

The thing that mattered most was whether or not he wanted me to be his sub during this visit. I thought that I’d wanted to cut ties with him, to be done with him and the limits he imposed on our relationship, but now, when I was about to see him, all I wanted was to kneel at his feet, feel his fingers in my hair, and hear him call me his “good girl.”

As I passed by the area where the TSA screened passengers waiting to enter the terminal, I noticed a yellow and blue neon sign that said, “BAR.” Peering around the corner, I saw him before he saw me. Though he was dressed casually in a long-sleeved green Henley shirt and jeans, I wondered for the hundredth time how I could have fallen for a man so good-looking, his looks not even playing a role in that attraction.

At least not initially, but I’d be lying if I said the way he looked didn’t make my panties wet.

I entered the bar, and as if he sensed my presence, he swiveled his barstool toward me as I approached.

“Sophie.” His voice washed over me, that velvet baritone I’d stroked myself to for weeks burrowing into my ears like a familiar tune, one consisting of love and lust all tangled together to form the sweetest melody.

“Quentin.”

He held his arms out to me and I crossed to him, letting him enfold me in them as if we were long-time friends rather than a kinky couple who mostly masturbated together over the internet.

I took the opportunity to inhale his scent. Damn, that was one of the things I missed over the internet—the way he smelled of pine and balsa wood, with a hint of shaving cream or deodorant. Sadly, I hadn’t been around him enough to know which one it was. I only knew it made my pussy drip, and I’d do anything to have a shirt of his that smelled like him snuggled under my nose every night.

After a moment, he stepped back and motioned for me to take a seat at the bar next to him.

“Sophie, I am afraid that I have ruined things between us, and I’d like to start over.”

This wasn’t what I’d expected. “What do you mean?”

“I’d like to begin our relationship again, if that’s possible.” He extended a hand to me, which I took tentatively.

“Hi, my name is Quentin.”

I frowned. “I’m Sophie, but you already know that. What the hell? I don’t understand, Quentin. What’s this all about? What, now you just want to be friends? Just meet in an airport bar and hang out? I’m afraid we are way past that!”

He blinked a few times. “I’m sorry, Sophie. You’re right. Can I get you a drink, and I’ll try to do a better job of explaining?” He was already working on a drink himself, so I nodded.

“Bourbon?” he asked.

“Yes.” I took a seat, trying to keep my head, though I wanted to fall back into his arms and kiss those strong yet luscious lips of his.

The bartender set down my drink, and I sipped it slowly.

“I’ve dabbled in BDSM for a long time, Sophie. I’ve had subs in the past, but never anyone where the relationship grew personal, at least not for me.”

I sighed disgustedly. “Really? You don’t think that’s personal? What could be more personal than the things you ask me to do?” I hissed.

“Okay, so it is personal, and you’re right. Very personal, but in the past, I’ve only had these kinds of relationships for the sex. I’m addicted to the thrill of it. Some days I couldn’t get enough, so I started expanding my play time to the internet. And it worked. It worked great. Women would agree to it, we’d have sessions on cam, and everybody was happy.”

“Except for the ones that weren’t.”

He nodded. “Yeah. I should have realized that when that girl grew too attached. I didn’t share her feelings. I guess I should have stopped then, but I told myself that both parties knew what they were getting into… And there was the fact that it had worked with so many other women.”