Power of the Pen by Xyla Turner Page A

now,” I told her.
    They fluttered open and focused on me, “Wow!” she breathed. “Now how are you going to get me to take the pill?”
    “You already did.” I licked my fingers.
    “Huh?” she asked.
    “It was in the muffin,” I explained.
    “Oh, wow.” She raised an eyebrow at me. “You are just full of surprises. Very clever.”
    She wrapped her arms around my shoulders, pulling herself up to straddle me. 
    A grunt escaped my mouth as her hooded eyes landed on mine. I wanted to take her, wanted to make sure she knew, but we had that “thing” looming over us. She hated me and what I wrote, yet she did not know. I should have cared, but as she started to rock on me, it escaped my mind.
    “Love,” I breathed, “You think we should chill for now?”
    “What?!” She exclaimed.
    “After this morning, after the way we ended things. That wasn’t really resolved.”
    She stopped rocking and looked at me. “What is there to resolve?” She asked with curiosity. “You know Z. Hays, I’m assuming, and you didn’t admit it.”
    “No, I told you I heard of him.” I clarified.
    “Fine, so you like his work?” She asked, but tried to get off of me. I held her firmly on my lap.
    “I’m a fan of his work, yes. As I told you on the night we met, I dabble in some BDSM, but not all aspects.”
    “What aspects?” she asked with more than curiosity in her voice, but intrigue.
    “Have you tried it?” I asked.
    “No, not really.”
    I continued to hold her on me.
    “Well, I like the bondage aspect, but in moderation. Tying up my partner, but no gagging. I like the discipline part: I’ve used canes, belts, hands, and floggers. I’m less into the sadistic part. I don’t get off from inflicting pain, but I do get off by seeing that my partner enjoys being spanked or disciplined, the submissive aspect.”
    I raised an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah?” She made a humming noise and continued, “So you like women crawling around on the floor being pulled by their hair?” She asked with a raised eyebrow.
    “Seeing a woman crawl with that ass on display, yes. Treating a woman like a dog, not so much.”
    Her eyebrows went up.
    “What?”
    “Well, Z. Hays, writes about that.” She said pointedly.
    “Okay, you are a blogger, and you clearly don’t like everything you read. I may not be down with every aspect of his writing, but I do enjoy him as an author. He really is a good writer.”
    “What are you his spokesperson?” She asked sarcastically.
    “No, but I do enjoy his work.” I grabbed her by the neck. “Love, you got to give honor where honor is due.”
    She willingly came down towards me as her lips were inches away from mine. “Is that the army talking?”
    “No.”
    “Hmm, well he is a good writer.” She conceded.
    I smiled and took her lips as she wrapped her hands around my neck to deepen the kiss. The woman was unraveling me and now she just admitted that I, I mean, Z. Hays was a good writer. Life, all of a sudden, seemed good. It was then I decided not to tell her. She just wouldn’t know. She couldn’t. I wanted her for me, but I know that her knowing who I really am would be the end.
    “Love,” I moaned as she sucked on my neck.
    Running my hands through her hair, I pulled it so I could take over. She was one that needed to be tamed or she would try to tame you. Her eyes were low again as she licked her lips.
    BOOM, BOOM, BOOM
    Someone was banging on the door.
    I looked at her to see if there was something I should know, but she raised her eyebrows and went to get off of me. I moved her so she was sitting on the couch. If someone was knocking like that, I was the only one answering the door. She followed, being hardheaded.
    A raised fist was high in the air, mid-knock, when I opened it.
    “Yes?” I looked at the short woman that I met a couple of weeks ago. She had called her Gab.
    She looked at me and blushed a little like she wasn’t expecting me. “Oh,” she said.
    “What do you