Page 26 of Don't Leave Me

He smiled me warmly. “Your aunt Jenny has some great taste, as do you,” he replied, crawling onto the bed next to me.

I smiled back, settling myself back into his arms. “Yeah, she did. She passed away about ten years ago,” I mentioned, trying to sound nonchalant.

Michael looked down at me with a frown. “I’m sorry,” he said with genuine remorse.

I shrugged – I didn’t want him to know just yet how much it fucked me up.

“My mum died when I was 16. It’s devastating to lose someone close to you,” he comforted me, holding me snugly.

I nodded. “Yeah, it is,” I sighed.

“What about the rest of your family? What are they like?”

I smiled to myself.We’re getting to know each other.

“My parents live in Greenwich, in Connecticut. They’ve been married for 25 years. My dad is a laidback cowboy from Tennessee and my mom is a high-strung debutante from Greenwich – total opposites, but they somehow work,” I smiled.

Michael grinned contently and started to play with my hair again. “How did they meet?”

“They both went to Duke University,” I nodded. “For some reason, they ended up back in Connecticut. My mom is a gynecologist and my dad is a hedge fund manager,” I went on.

He nodded, raising his eyebrows and seeming impressed. “So you come from an affluent family,” he concluded.

I shrugged, always modest about that area of my life. My family had been wealthy for generations – I was the only one on my mother’s side to not end up in medicine. Imagine my mom’s face when I told her I was going to be a writer!

“What about your family?” I asked curiously, diverting the attention from myself.

“I grew up in a little town outside of Belfast. My dad is a podiatrist and still lives in Belfast. My older sister, Maureen, lives in London as a writer,” he explained.

“What made you decide to come to New York?” I inquired – I was eager to get as much information as I could out of him.

He shrugged. “I wanted a change; I moved about five years ago, shortly after turning 27. My aunt and uncle lived here and I stayed with them while I went to Columbia to study business, and after I graduated I worked at a crappy business firm that I hated. So I jumped at the opportunity to take over at New York Daily,” he explained.

I was impressed – he went to Columbia Business School…I guess he is as smart as he acts.

“How many submissive have you had?” I blurted out, my mind all over the place, wanting to ask him a thousand other questions.

Michael laughed a little, letting me go and propping himself up on his elbow to have a better look at me. I wasn’t sure when, or if, I would ever be able to look at him without getting butterflies in my belly.

“You’re quite the sporadic conversationalist,” he stated with amusement.

I shrugged – he would have to get used to that.

“Three,” he finally answered, putting his hand to my bare hip.

I was already jealous at these nameless, faceless past lovers.

“And they weren’t your…your girlfriends?” I asked hesitantly.

“No,” he answered quickly. “I had a strict sexual-only relationship with each of them,” he went on, the topic so easy for him.

I gulped. “So…you’ve never had arealgirlfriend?” I poked further, almost feeling like I was digging too deep.

He looked down at his hands. “I did, in Belfast, before I moved. But we wanted different things…we were both so young,” he shrugged.

I felt like I needed to leave it at that.

“I’ve never been a submissive before. I mean, not like this,” I went back to the subject.

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