Chapter 69

Kathleen

There aren't many places to hide during a ball boasting hundreds of guests, but this is a large hotel. One with a lot of clean closets and empty conference rooms, like the one we barge into, locking the door behind us.

I barely have time to find the conference table before Ira has me on top of it, her kiss so powerful that I'm melting beneath the weight of her body.

We're a couple of famished bastards as zippers fall, skirts rise, and more than one hand searches for a forbidden place untouched in over a month. A month probably doesn't sound like a lot. Before, it didn't sound like a long time to me either. A woman in need of someone's touch knows how to get by until she can secure it again, but that's a woman who isn't in love.

Because I need Ira's specific touch. I need the way she knows my body, what I like, what I desire. Only she knows how to touch me in ways I never thought possible before. Only she knows my precarious line between being dominated and taking control.

Like right now, when she thrusts into me, her satisfied grunt telling me how much she wants me, and how much she loves me.

"Katie…" No matter how many times I hear it, or how many times she says it, I still feel renewed every time that name enters my ear. It's like being welcomed home by the lover you've had for decades. With her inside of me at the same time, thrusting enough to get me wetter and then completely take me? Oh my God, I am going to die.

I say her name, desperately, letting her know how much I've loved and missed her as well. This is so stupid. This is so dangerous. This is the last thing we should be doing, but I can't help myself. I need her in me, on me, whispering sweet nothings as she fucks me like I need air to breathe. Because what's the point of breathing if I'm not sharing those breaths with her?

Being away for a month affirmed how much I love her. But I… I…

Tears pool at the corner of my eyes as we fall into a steady rhythm. I love her. I love her so much that I had to drag her back here after one embrace. The idea of being without her like this again shatters my heart until I don't even recognize it anymore.

The tears come, however, because no matter how good this feels, I know it won't last.

"I love you." The words sound pathetic coming from me. I'm hiccupping with every moan, Ira's ability to pin me to this table otherworldly. Yet I'm afraid. "Don't leave me, Ira."

Her movements still, hands on my cheeks as she brings my face forward for a kiss. Even though her tongue slips along mine, she still manages to say, "You're the one who left, darling."

I touch her back, clinging to her jacket and holding her fast inside me. I don't want to let her go. "Claim me."

Here I am, Kathleen Allen, a big, strong Domme who is sloppily in love with another and pleading to know what it's like to be claimed again. The Kathleen I am now and the Kathleen who went to her that first night seem like completely different people.

When she moves within me again, I forget everything.

I forget everything about her that annoys me. Her arrogance, the way she nonchalantly takes control of everything and assumes she can take what she wants, how she wants to submit to me, but won't…

I forget. My life is nothing but Ira Mathison making love to me and how good it feels.

I want this.

God, do I want this!

"Katie!' She pushes me down onto the table, spreading my legs open, driving inside me, pinning me, pounding me, pressuring me to meet her great and mighty need for what we're doing. It's hard for us to kiss at this angle, but I don't care. I can look into her eyes in this darkness, at the wild mien bearing down upon me and begging me… begging me… to feel the same way about her that she does me.

I do, Ira. I do feel that way.

For one split second as we climax, I am convinced that nothing else in this world matters.

Her hand takes mine on the table. Our breaths are one. My hips surge against her, bringing her into me, body and soul. Her groan is strong, yet vulnerable. Like her. Ira doesn't know it and probably wouldn't believe it, but she's a vulnerable person.

Someone I love.

Do you know how relieved I feel when she makes me hers? It's not fear. It's not even immense pleasure. It's relief. She's here. She's with me. She's not going anywhere, and she wants me so badly that a moment like this occurs. I can't believe it. Ira! In love with me!

Me, in love with her!

I cry.

"No, no, sweetie…" She immediately tends to me. I'm a mess. I have other things to worry about. "Don't cry. What's wrong?"

Ira's forehead touches mine. My legs slip off the table and away from her hips. Her warmth is all over me, coddling me, but my crying drives a wedge between us.

"I love you."

"And I love you too…" The tone of her voice says that she doesn't understand the problem here. "Tell me what's wrong so I can fix it once and for all."

She almost sounds hopeful. Like the power of love alone is enough to keep us together beyond this next week, month, however long it takes for me to break again because I'm being kept from who I really am.

"You can't fix who we are, Ira. You can't rearrange the cosmos so we're magically happy with this arrangement for the rest of our lives."

There I go, talking about forever. As if we'll get married. As if we'll be anything more than two dominants skirting around the big elephant in the room so we can make it one more month without breaking up. Meanwhile, yours truly won't know who she is anymore.

The things people – including my acquaintances – will say to me. You may say that they're not real friends if they don't support my relationship, but they are important to me. I can't lose myself like that and lose my friends. Eve would stay by my side, but who else?

"I may not have the power or the money to change the universe, my love, but I do have the power to change what's happening here." She presses her forehead against my shoulder. "Yet I can't change a damn thing if you don't tell me what's going on."

My ass slides off the table. I pull down my skirt, although I do not push her away. In fact, I welcome her embracing me and telling me some more about how much she loves me. What woman doesn't want to hear that after lovemaking?

This woman, I guess.

"You know I love you."

"Sometimes it's hard to tell when you're not sharing what's on your mind and instead running off to Europe, Katie."

She's caressing my head, letting her fingers run through my hair that has fallen from my immaculate twist. Not so immaculate anymore. Eventually, Ira plucks my jewels from my hair and gingerly arranges them on the table. I try not to think about what's going on between my thighs. It'll send me back into a spiral of eroticism I can't afford to deal with.

"This isn't enough for me." I'm mumbling, but I'm sure she hears me. "I need things from you that you can't, or at least won't, give me."

Her fist hits the conference table we made love on. I can only imagine her frustration. Here she is, someone with countless money, resources, and charm. And she can't hang on to the only woman she apparently wants.

You say you can change our situation, Ira, but I'm not too sure. I wish you could, though.

I wish I could be content with being the only switch.

"I'm not asking you to change who you are." My hand rests on her arm, trying to reassure her, but it's not enough. "You didn't ask me to change who I was. You saw something inside me and helped me realize it. For that, thank you. I'm not sure I could do that with anyone else."

Our eyes meet in the dark.

"It's not fair, right? We should be able to be together. Yet… how happy could I be, and how long? What kind of pressure would I put you under? It's not fair to either of us."

"So, what?" Ira turns to me. Under usual circumstances, I would laugh at how she's still unzipped, but I only want to hold her. "We break up because of something as stupid as that?"

"It's not stupid, and you know it."

Ira embraces me, her scent making me feel better for a single moment. This should be enough. Her, me, our bodies. Even if I never submitted to her again and we pursued a vanilla relationship, I would still crave it. Even if we conceded to other lovers in the kink scene, we would get jealous. We're both people built for monogamy, even when it comes to kink.

Why, God?

"Don't leave me." Ira squeezes me. "I don't want to be without you for another day."

I gently push myself away. "I'm not leaving. It was foolish of me, though, to succumb to my desires for you so easily. This is going to be hard to say, but I think it's best if we don't get as heavy as we were before. I'm not breaking up with you. I'm not saying it's never going to work, but we need to wait until we're clearheaded enough to deal with this rationally."

Haha, we both know that I'm full of shit.

Something pierces my hand as I pick up my jewels. "Love won't save us," I mutter.

"Love should always be enough. It works for…"

I look at her, waiting for her to say, "poor people."

"Because sometimes that's all a person has. We're not like that. Nobody in our families has been like that for generations. We're blessed in that regard, but love won't stop us from having tension we can't resolve."

"You keep saying that, but…"

I open the conference room door, watching Ira clean up her clothes before the light hits her. "I'll see you in a few."

The door closes, and I walk straight to the nearest restroom. I don't meet the gaze of anyone I pass. I don't think of anything. I can't afford to think of anything. It's all a matter of fact as I clean myself up in the bathroom and put my hair back up, presenting myself to the ball attendees as nothing more than Kathleen Allen, professional.

Not Kathleen Allen, woman smitten and in love.

Fate. Fuck it.