anticipation in his eyes when I'd told him I was going shopping ... for him.
The hope.
The love.
I didn't want to do this.
But as I stepped out of the car, I knew that's exactly why I had to.
[Back to Table of Contents]
13
Domma By Default
by Tymber Dalton
Chapter 1
Her
What can I say about our marriage? It was the second try for both of us. We each had a child with our exes, and while he was over a decade older than me it wasn't an issue.
He was my guardian angel, I was his prom queen.
I felt rescued in many ways after a decade of an emotionally abusive marriage. He felt loved and desired after a decade and a half of a frigid ice queen who blamed him for everything from her PMS to global warming.
When we'd first met on the downside of our divorces, we'd spent hours IMing back and forth some nights as we worked.
And I'll never forget how tickled I was.
I feel like the prom queen likes me! he'd said one night.
No one had ever talked to me like that before, made me feel like that.
Cherished. Loved.
When we finally got together and moved in, the sex was phenomenal as far as I was concerned. I'd had a few decent partners before my ex—who was crappy in that department.
My new husband had a total of three partners—including me—and had never had a blow job before I gave him one.
He'd also never gone down on a woman.
I had a lot of fun teaching him that. He proved to be a natural and eager student.
14
Domma By Default
by Tymber Dalton
The kids fledged and we were on our own and I felt everything was great. We never fought. We could disagree and go to bed and kiss each other good night. Perfectly matched temperaments. Mine on the heated side, his a little cooler. A great give and take that worked well for us.
Open and honest, as our individual emotional scars from our previous woundings healed we found an easy middle ground we called our own and enjoyed our time there.
I never felt anything lacking, except that I wished he'd be a little more...
Dominant.
I trusted my husband in a way I never trusted my ex. Or any other man, for that matter. I wanted to give him that control over me. I wanted to submit to him. Now that I knew I could fully trust someone in that way, I craved it. While we'd play on occasion, he never took what was freely offered.
Over the years we opened up somewhat in the bedroom, the dynamic slipping back and forth in play. I resigned myself to the fact that while our marriage wasn't textbook material, it worked for us and I wouldn't trade him for anything. So what if our traditional roles were anything but?
I called my dad one afternoon, my cell phone wedged between my shoulder and cheek, as I studied the wires in the ceiling fan I was changing out.
"Why isn't your husband doing this?" he snarked.
I bit back a less than daughterly reply. "Because he's at work. I'm perfectly capable of doing this, Dad."
I got the impression my father looked down his nose at my husband for some things. Not that he didn't like my husband, 15
Domma By Default
by Tymber Dalton
because my parents adored him, especially after I spent years with a real jerk.
But he always seemed to think my husband should do it all.
"You can't wait to do this until he gets home?"
I didn't want to admit my husband was clueless about home electrical systems. I would sooner lick a porcupine than let my husband touch wiring. "Dad, please, just answer my question."
His tone turned gruff. "Listen to me, young lady—"
Only my parents could get away with calling a nearly forty year-old woman that. "Dad, you are the one who taught me how to change my own oil and tires, right? Why the heck can't you help me do this, too? My husband works very hard at a good job that pays pretty damn well and allows me to work from home and do what I love. I'd think you'd be happy for me."
Low blow, and I knew it, but it worked. I could almost hear him backtracking.
He sighed the big, put-upon I know she's right but I'm still her
The hope.
The love.
I didn't want to do this.
But as I stepped out of the car, I knew that's exactly why I had to.
[Back to Table of Contents]
13
Domma By Default
by Tymber Dalton
Chapter 1
Her
What can I say about our marriage? It was the second try for both of us. We each had a child with our exes, and while he was over a decade older than me it wasn't an issue.
He was my guardian angel, I was his prom queen.
I felt rescued in many ways after a decade of an emotionally abusive marriage. He felt loved and desired after a decade and a half of a frigid ice queen who blamed him for everything from her PMS to global warming.
When we'd first met on the downside of our divorces, we'd spent hours IMing back and forth some nights as we worked.
And I'll never forget how tickled I was.
I feel like the prom queen likes me! he'd said one night.
No one had ever talked to me like that before, made me feel like that.
Cherished. Loved.
When we finally got together and moved in, the sex was phenomenal as far as I was concerned. I'd had a few decent partners before my ex—who was crappy in that department.
My new husband had a total of three partners—including me—and had never had a blow job before I gave him one.
He'd also never gone down on a woman.
I had a lot of fun teaching him that. He proved to be a natural and eager student.
14
Domma By Default
by Tymber Dalton
The kids fledged and we were on our own and I felt everything was great. We never fought. We could disagree and go to bed and kiss each other good night. Perfectly matched temperaments. Mine on the heated side, his a little cooler. A great give and take that worked well for us.
Open and honest, as our individual emotional scars from our previous woundings healed we found an easy middle ground we called our own and enjoyed our time there.
I never felt anything lacking, except that I wished he'd be a little more...
Dominant.
I trusted my husband in a way I never trusted my ex. Or any other man, for that matter. I wanted to give him that control over me. I wanted to submit to him. Now that I knew I could fully trust someone in that way, I craved it. While we'd play on occasion, he never took what was freely offered.
Over the years we opened up somewhat in the bedroom, the dynamic slipping back and forth in play. I resigned myself to the fact that while our marriage wasn't textbook material, it worked for us and I wouldn't trade him for anything. So what if our traditional roles were anything but?
I called my dad one afternoon, my cell phone wedged between my shoulder and cheek, as I studied the wires in the ceiling fan I was changing out.
"Why isn't your husband doing this?" he snarked.
I bit back a less than daughterly reply. "Because he's at work. I'm perfectly capable of doing this, Dad."
I got the impression my father looked down his nose at my husband for some things. Not that he didn't like my husband, 15
Domma By Default
by Tymber Dalton
because my parents adored him, especially after I spent years with a real jerk.
But he always seemed to think my husband should do it all.
"You can't wait to do this until he gets home?"
I didn't want to admit my husband was clueless about home electrical systems. I would sooner lick a porcupine than let my husband touch wiring. "Dad, please, just answer my question."
His tone turned gruff. "Listen to me, young lady—"
Only my parents could get away with calling a nearly forty year-old woman that. "Dad, you are the one who taught me how to change my own oil and tires, right? Why the heck can't you help me do this, too? My husband works very hard at a good job that pays pretty damn well and allows me to work from home and do what I love. I'd think you'd be happy for me."
Low blow, and I knew it, but it worked. I could almost hear him backtracking.
He sighed the big, put-upon I know she's right but I'm still her
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