Free Faith by Ashe Barker Page B

I haven’t, but I know what he would think. To go there behind his back is out of the question. It would be disloyal to him, deceitful.
    With Ewan, I have something special, something powerful and every bit as passionate, every bit as hot as I imagined it would be. I was right about the emotional involvement a relationship with him would entail. I’m in love with him, I know this without a shadow of doubt. I have a suspicion he might love me too. He hasn’t said so exactly, but it seems to me to be there in his ready, dimpled smile, his dry humour, his gentle, slow touch and his lovemaking that sets my pussy alight. It could be wishful thinking, but I hope not. All I know is he makes me clench and cream with just a look. One quirk of his lip, one flash of those dimples, and I melt.
    It’s more than mere physical attraction, more than just sex. He’s nice, he’s funny, he’s good company. He makes me laugh, he makes me scream. I enjoy him, in bed and out of it.
    And I miss him. Terribly.
    I’m not sure exactly why I haven’t talked to him about my explorations into my submissive nature. It’s not as though he wouldn’t understand. But my trips to Sheffield seem like another life, a different existence. They are outside of my relationship with Ewan, and are destined to remain so.
    My sudden and intense reaction when Ewan made his semi-joking reference to tying me up came out of nowhere. It surprised me, not least as I did actually find my previous limited forays into bondage arousing. When we first got together Ewan mentioned the ghost of Ed hovering beside us, but it was Caroline’s spectre that rose up in that moment, over-shadowing the pleasure of Ewan’s touch and twisting my perspective.
    In my head I know that Caroline had no real hold on Ewan. He regrets her loss but doesn’t pine for her as I might have feared. As I once did for Ed, though not any longer. But she was an experienced submissive, trained, responsive to his needs, attuned to her own sexuality. I’m a bumbling amateur in comparison, clumsy, unsophisticated. From my visits to Fairlawns I know enough now about dominance and submission to appreciate the depth of my ignorance, the extent of my naïveté.
    Ewan could teach me, I have no doubt of it. He would be a good mentor, caring, patient, demanding, challenging. My friendly dom with the warm smile and fine touch with a paddle might satisfy my immediate need for a spanking but no more. Never any more than that. With Ewan there would be so much to be discovered. He would be thorough, unhurried, peeling back the layers, exposing depths I never thought to reveal to anyone before.
    I might welcome the intimacy, but wouldn’t that ultimately be to step into Caroline’s shoes? To become a convenient body, a playmate, a woman who meant little to him beyond the moment.
    I won’t do that. Can’t be that. I need him too much.
    Ewan’s due back today. I’m not sure exactly what time, but I’ve been on line to monitor the arrivals at Manchester airport so I know his plane landed two hours ago. He’d have to reclaim his baggage, clear customs, then get a taxi back to where he parks his car. Maybe an hour and a half’s drive back here. I think I can expect him within an hour or so. I hug my stomach, excited, aroused, verging on the desperate. I wasn’t sure if I should cook, he probably ate on the plane, but I did anyway. Not to Ewan’s culinary standards, but a decent offering of braised steak with onions, jacket potatoes, some steamed vegetables. We’ll eat, we’ll exchange news, we’ll go to bed. Not necessarily in that order.
    I pace my studio, watch the darkening sky through my roof windows. I glance at the clock. Five minutes since I last checked. I pace some more. Maybe I should go down to the kitchen to check my braised steak.
    My head is buried in my oven when I hear the car. I stand and slam the door shut, rush to the window to check, though I know there’s no mistake. I recognise the