Page 22 of His Loving Guidance
Chapter Three
The days flew by and the art exhibit in New York approached. After finally making headway in the domestic discipline side of their relationship, Stephie didn’t want to hinder this progress and kept silent on the matter, though the trip she longed to take was never far from her mind. It would be so easy to pack a bag, drive five hours north, spend the evening at the exhibit and the night at her sister’s apartment, and then drive home the following day. So easy. Yet so difficult. Marcus obviously hadn’t changed his mind or he would’ve broached the subject.
Dammit. A little part of her conspired to leave after he left for work on Wednesday. He had a full schedule of classes to teach, the first one beginning at eight in the morning, so she could get an early start. Did she dare? She’d never done anything so naughty. So against the rules. Sure, she didn’t agree with his decision, but in the past when she’d disagreed with Marcus, she’d still respected his decisions and tried to abide by them.
She’d placed her trust in him and she loved him, but that didn’t mean submitting to his authority was always easy.
On Monday, two days before the exhibit, she called Darla to make arrangements to stay at her apartment. Just in case Marcus changed his mind, she told herself. Except that wasn’t the exact truth. The truth was, she still felt suffocated under his overprotective thumb. She needed to get out of the house and back in her element, and she didn’t want Marcus to cancel his classes to babysit her.
Freedom dangled in front of her like a piece of forbidden fruit. If she reached out to grasp it and tear it from the vine, what would happen? She wondered how Marcus would react to her disobedience. She wasn’t trying to earn a punishment spanking. Not this time. She simply wanted to prove she could manage on her own. Her paintings would sell even if she wasn’t present for the exhibit, but she enjoyed the functions and rubbing elbows with those who appreciated her artwork. It gave her purpose when she worked in her studio, knowing people enjoyed and respected her creativity.
“Of course you can stay the night,” Darla said, gushing with enthusiasm. “In fact, you can stay longer if you’d like. Other than work during the daytime, my schedule is free.”
“Thanks, sis, but I’ll just be staying the night.” Stephie ended the phone call and glanced at the clock in her studio.
Four in the afternoon. Marcus would be home at six-thirty. She rushed to their bedroom and pulled her long-neglected suitcase from the back of the closet. She threw it open on the bed and hurried to pack for her possible trip. Guilt ate at her, gnawing at her harder with each item of clothing she tossed into the suitcase. Ignoring the clenching of her stomach, she zipped it up and carried it to her car, placing it in the trunk.
There. It was done. All she had to do was figure out if she intended to follow through with her plan or not.
To go to New York or not to go. To disobey Marcus or not to. To take a chance or not to.
To take a chance. Yes, she had to. She had to prove she wasn’t delicate. She was a survivor, and she was capable of driving five measly hours and finding her way home the next day, happy and unharmed. If he spanked her for it, so be it. But she hoped her illicit adventure up north would open his eyes and make him realize she could handle her own affairs. Before her illness, she’d never asked for permission to leave town for a day or two. A few days or a whole week, yes, but a small trip relating to her business – never.
Wednesday morning arrived. She awoke to the beeping of Marcus’s alarm clock. Sunlight streamed through the sheer curtains, spilling across the comforter. He smashed a hand against the clock, silencing it, and snuggled up against her body underneath the warmth of the covers, spooning her from behind. Stiffness poked at her bottom, and she smiled to herself. He’d been insatiable since the punishment spanking last Saturday. The intimacy between them had rekindled, stronger than ever.
She frowned. The actions she planned to take this morning would disrupt this honeymoon period. She wavered for a moment, then pressed her lips together as her determination returned. She could do this. She would. The consequences awaited her in a few days, and she’d face them head on. She’d face Marcus. She only hoped he understood her reasons for leaving and prayed his disappointment wasn’t too great.
A firm squeeze to her backside jerked her from her thoughts. Marcus yanked her panties down and sank into her wetness. She arched her back and thrust her bottom back, allowing him deeper penetration. His cock filled her, and desire whirled through her in delicious waves of pleasure. His teeth sank into her shoulder and she moaned.
He used her body. He grabbed her hips and pumped into her, growling with a fierceness that shook her insides. Reveling in each rough touch, each slam of his cock into her pussy, she met him thrust for thrust.
“Touch your clit, sweetheart. I want to feel your tight little pussy clamping down on my cock while you come.”
His naughty words thrilled her. Propelled her to the edge of oblivion before her fingers even reached her throbbing clit. A few swirls over the engorged nub and she was writhing, clamping down on his thick member while he rode out his own release. She felt his cock convulse as his hot seed filled her up, and her nipples tightened and tingled as she came hard, whimpering his name as the orgasm crashed upon her, pulling her under and draining the energy from her limbs.
“Mmm,” she murmured, already sleepy again. Except she couldn’t fall back asleep. Not today. To keep up with appearances though, she needed to tap into her acting skills. Luckily feigning sleep wasn’t so hard.
Marcus chuckled and withdrew his cock from her pussy. He patted her bottom playfully and kissed her cheek. “Go back to sleep, sweetheart. I’ll give you a call later.”
“Okay, I’ll talk to you later,” she said, inflecting as much dreaminess into her voice as she could manage.
He kissed her again and headed for the shower.
Twenty minutes later, he pressed a kiss to her forehead and said good-bye. She maintained her deep, slow breathing and kept her eyes pressed firmly shut. She remained in bed, quiet, as she listened to him venture down to the kitchen, heard the slam of the front door a short while later, and finally the revving of his car engine and the crunch of tires over gravel.
She hopped out of bed and sprang to the window, catching sight of his car disappearing down the long drive. The trees swallowed it up.
Marcus was gone. The vine holding the forbidden fruit lowered directly in front of her face. She wavered again, but only for a second, before reaching out to pluck it. She showered, dressed, grabbed a mug of coffee for the road, and rushed out the door.
Her heart raced as she approached town, but she navigated around the small college where Marcus taught to decrease her chance of running into him. Sometimes when the weather was nice, he took his classes outside. Her heart finally slowed down after crossing the bridge leading out of town. The highway appeared a few miles later, and she merged into it with resolve thrumming through her.
* * *
Marcus frowned at his phone. He’d called Stephie ten times now, texted her, and left messages. One on her cell phone and another on the house phone. Where the hell was she? He pushed the worry down, or tried to at least. Maybe she was blasting music in her studio and couldn’t hear the phone. That had happened a few times before. Except she’d never missed ten calls in a row.
Christ. He ran a hand through his hair and glanced at the clock in his office. His next class started in forty minutes. He had just enough time to race home and look for her, then race back to campus. If he was late, his students would leave after fifteen minutes. The ever popular fifteen-minute rule.
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair again.
