Whipped (Hitched #2)(29)

What happened? How can I be sick so suddenly? I don't know and can't really think because now my stomach is out of food but is finding some kind of green sludge from the pits of despair and vomiting that up. I've never vomited this much. Ever.

"Vi! Vi? I think I'm getting sick too. Vi, you have to come release me."

Oh no. I can't leave him stuck to the bed. I try to move from the toilet, but another wave hits me, and I lean over, heaving until it hurts. "I'm trying, Lach. But I can't stop throwing up."

"Vi. I'm going to be sick."

And then I hear him vomit. All over my bed.

I crawl through my own sick to reach him, throwing up again on the floor. I scramble for the key to the handcuffs and get them off his wrists. He pulls the blindfold off and runs to the bathroom and vomits into the toilet. We are now both covered in each other's vomit.

It feels like hours before we're both done. We can't move and no longer care we are covered in sick.

We lean against the sink together, both of us slumped on the bathroom floor, when Lach starts to laugh.

I can't help but join in, because what else can you do but laugh or cry? And Lach chooses laughter, and I love that about him.

"Is this how it usually went with your clients?"

I laugh harder, my stomach cramping from it all. "Usually less vomit," I tell him. "But not always."

He chuckles. "Oh, Vi, honey…"

"Yes?"

"You're never allowed to cook."





CHAPTER 18





LACH


I'm not really the type to submit. But that night with Vi was hot—being tied up and tortured by her sexy ass and tits. Well, until the vomiting. That was the opposite of hot. But before then, I was down. And hard. So it hasn't been a hardship—pun intended—to play Master and Servant a few more times with her, under less spectacularly disgusting circumstances. It's not my thing 24/7, but for a change of pace, something new, I can get into the groove of being handcuffed and teased.

And I love seeing Vi light up when she's in charge. She's sexy as hell as a Dom, and I enjoy getting to know that side of her more than I imagined I would. We don't go too kink. Some of the stories she's told me, I know without trying that it's not for me. For example, I have zero desire to lick the bottoms of her heeled boots, no matter how sexy they are on her perfect little feet. So we have lines, and we learn as we play, and we give and take, and sometimes I'm holding the handcuff key, and sometimes she is. All in all, our sex life is even better for it, which is something I never thought I'd say. My sex life never seemed like it needed to be (or even could be) better. But there you have it. Learn something new every day.

So… we've been having fun. And somewhere in all that f*cking and fun, shit got serious. I don't know when it happened. Whether it was the late nights watching sitcoms together and laughing at stupid jokes, or the weekend afternoons spent sorting laundry, or the petty bickering over whose turn it was to do the dishes (somehow it's never Vi's turn…) or maybe those long mornings spent in silence bent over a jigsaw puzzle together. I don't know. All I know is that I'm sitting in Vi's favorite chair, and it smells like her, which I love, and I'm just checking shit on my phone not really doing anything when she comes in with a slight frown on her face, and I think something's wrong.

"What's up, babe?" I'm not checking my phone anymore. Instead, I'm watching her fidget with that gorgeous, red, curly hair of hers as she tries to look less nervous than she actually feels.

She holds up her phone as if presenting evidence in court. "My mom texted me."

"Okay?" We haven't talked too much about family, usually because I avoid the topic, but I know she has a good relationship with her parents but doesn't see them often.

"Remember when I told you they were about to celebrate their thirtieth wedding anniversary?"

I don't but I nod anyways because I probably should. I'm not an idiot.

"Well, they've decided to have a renewing of the vows, and they want me there. Us there."

I'm about to say 'sure, no problem' until I realize two things. One, her parents live in California, so this is a weekend road trip. Together. As a couple. And two, this is not just any road trip, but a meet the parents trip.

I've never 'met the parents' for anyone. Parents usually don't want to meet the guy who bangs their little girl on occasion purely for the shared orgasms. Go figure.

But I play it cool. If I freak out, she'll freak out, and that won't be good for my cock tonight or my heart tomorrow. But if I'm too cool, she might think I'm not taking this seriously which, trust me, I am.

"What do they know about me?" I ask, buying time to figure out the best response.

She walks over, her body language more relaxed now that she sees I'm not in a state of panic. At least outwardly. When she slides onto my lap, all worry disappears into the soft curves of her sexy-as-hell body.

While my hand caresses her thigh, she fills me on the parental details. "They know we're dating. That it's getting kind of… serious?"

She says this like a question, and I know we need to talk about where this is going. We have, a bit, but there's a lot up in the air. "It is… serious," I say. "And whether I leave for tour or not, that doesn't change what I feel right now. Though, I don't know entirely how to define those feelings yet." We aren't ready for the 'L' word. At least I'm not. But it's close. "But I know I care deeply for you, Vi. And I'm not ready to walk away from you. Or us."