“It's not even what happened, as much as what didn't happen.” I knew I was talking in circles, but the entire situation was a confusing mess. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was in the dark about something major. There was a niggle at the back of my brain, telling me something was going to happen today and it wasn't going to be anything good.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he offered. The only way I wanted to talk was if I was curled up against him on the couch. Whenever I was upset, he’d comb his fingers through my hair and listen to me ramble.
But again, he wasn’t here with me because I’d thought this trip was something I needed to do on my own. I might have been a stubborn idiot at times.
Despite the fact that I needed to get ready, I flopped onto the bed, curled up on my side, and hugged the pillow. It smelled wrong, like my mother's laundry detergent instead of the woodsy scent of Blake's cologne. It was a poor substitute, but it would have to do.
“I'm not even sure there's anything to talk about,” I told him. “I’m probably blowing shit out of proportion.”
“And maybe need to learn to trust your gut? You know you aren’t going to feel any better until you get it out, so why don't you talk to me?” Ugh. Stupid men who knew me too well to let me stress in private. Then again, if I hadn’t wanted to talk, I knew better than to call him.
But I had called him because I didn’t want to ruin my grandparents’ day.
“Yeah, maybe that's a good idea.” As I explained how it felt like Billy and Dad were having a silent conversation that was over my head, I realized I was being ridiculous. Of course I was making a huge deal out of nothing.
If it had been a friend telling me this story, I’d have told them to quit borrowing trouble. But I wasn’t the friend, and I knew my family too well to assume it was nothing. The two of them weren’t the type to keep secrets. Hell, Billy was the brother nobody told anything we didn't want getting out because he had a bad habit of letting things slip.
I fully expected Blake to tell me I was making a big deal out of nothing. Every time I stopped to get my thoughts together, I was surprised he didn’t cut me off and tell me I was being silly. When I finally finished, I fidgeted as I waited for him to respond to my recounting of this morning's breakfast.
“Let's say, for just a minute, there is something they haven't told you. Do you think maybe that's because there's nothing you could have done about it if they'd said something over the phone or by text?” Ugh. He was being the voice of reason. I hated that almost as much as I hated the way his voice got softer when he was trying to not upset me further.
“Maybe, but they've never done that before,” I complained.
“As true as that may be, you haven't lived away from home until recently. There’s going to be a period of adjustment for everybody.” Double fuck him and his sensibility. I jolted up from the bed and started slamming my dresser drawers closed. I’d told Mom there was no point in unpacking my suitcases into the dresser and closet, but she’d insisted the first day I was home. To her, there were few things worse than living out of luggage.
Now, I was grateful because I’d have felt absolutely insane if I was opening and slamming drawers just for the sake of a release. “That doesn't mean I have to like it.”
“No, you don't, but nothing good is going to come out of you jumping to the worst possible scenarios, either,” he reminded me. Fucking level-headed men.
“I guess you might be right.”
Blake chuckled. “What was that, brat?”
Hearing him call me a brat had my body coming alive with arousal. Except, I couldn't actually get off because I was still wearing this damn cage he’d put on me before I left. I reached between my legs, trying to adjust things so it wasn't quite as painful. That didn’t work at all. Touching myself only left me harder than I’d been before.
I couldn’t wait to get home so Blake could free me from my confines. It was more than likely I’d shoot off the second my dick could get hard without leaving imprints of the plastic around my shaft, and the mess I’d create would be world-record worthy.
“Are you trying to play with yourself, boy?” Blake's voice pitched low and gravelly. That didn’t help my situation a damn bit.
“No, Sir,” I insisted through a ragged breath. “I was just trying to adjust things. There's not exactly a lot of room down there.”
Blake hummed, and I could practically see him biting his bottom lip. With my eyes closed, I could almost feel him leering at me as he decided what to do with me. There was no doubt it would involve making me wait to come until he decided I was ready.
“Have you kept it on this whole time?”
“Of course,” I insisted without hesitation. “You didn't give me permission to take it off.”
“That’s my good boy,” he praised me. “I love knowing that you’re not able to touch yourself when I’m not there to allow you pleasure. But if it's too difficult for you, I wouldn't be upset.”
“I know, Sir.” Before he’d driven me to the airport, he made sure I knew where he’d stashed the key in my backpack.
“Now, I think it's time for you to get dressed. Did you bring the new slacks we bought for you?”
“Yes, Sir.” I'd been fully prepared to just pull something out of my closet for the trip, but Blake insisted on taking me shopping. At the time, it seemed odd, but I wasn't going to argue with him.
He'd explained it as wanting to make sure I made a good impression on my family so they trusted I was thriving now that I was out from under their thumb. That made sense. Now, I wondered if there might be another reason for it.
I put the phone on speaker and continued chatting with Blake as I got dressed. At one point, I had to lunge for the phone and turn down the volume when he started talking about a scene he'd been asked to oversee this weekend. He wanted to explain everything to me in explicit detail so I understood what his role would be. Part of me wondered if he was also telling me in order to torture me.
