We jogged around the perimeter of our estate. I’d forgotten how much I enjoyed running with Nathaniel. Every so often, I’d peek out of the corner of my eyes to watch him. There was such grace in the way he moved. Such strength in his legs.
He caught me one time and smiled. “I think I’ll have you jog naked next time.” I almost tripped over my feet and he reached out to steady me. “Careful.”
“What?”
“Have you jog naked. I’ve never had you do it. It might be fun.”
I snorted. “For you.”
“Exactly.”
We turned slightly and headed toward the flower garden. It was spring and we’d recently had some landscaping done, so many of the plants were small and new.
“Like little babies,” I said.
“The cleomes?”
“Yes, it’s like we have a little plant nursery.”
He didn’t say anything for several strides and then he surprised me with, “Are you pregnant?”
“Because I mentioned babies?” Honestly? Where had that come from?
“It just seemed strange bringing up babies in the middle of the garden.”
“It was just a metaphor.” I still didn’t make the connection. Unless he meant something more with his question. “Do you want a third child?”
We’d talked about it when I was pregnant with Henry and at the time, we’d decided to have only two. I really hadn’t given much thought to another child. It hadn’t even registered in my mind that it would be something that could happen.
He slowed to a brisk walk and I followed. Good. The slower pace would give me time to think.
“I hadn’t thought about another child until right now,” he said. “I’m content with two. A third? I don’t know. That would give us odd numbers. We’d have to have four to even it all out.”
I laughed. “That’s seriously part of your thought process? Not which room we’ll put them in or if we’d have time for everyone or even if we would need a bigger car to fit five or anything like that, just that the number is odd?”
“My mind likes even numbers.” He spoke so matter-of-factly, I couldn’t tell if he was being serious. Sometimes his dry sense of humor threw me. But then he gave a little grin to show he was joking. At least a little bit.
“Then I’m going to say I don’t think so to child three, because I don’t think I could do four.” My mind still couldn’t wrap itself around three. Four? There were plenty of women who could do it. I didn’t think Felicia would have a problem, for instance, but I couldn’t get there. “The doctor visits alone would do me in. Can you imagine two more children with ear infections like Henry has had?”
“No. I honestly can’t.” His nose wrinkled up. “And the diapers.”
“Right? I’m looking forward to when Henry’s out of them and the entire house is potty trained.”
He laughed softly and reached for my hand. “That will be a wonderful day.”
We walked back to the house and it wasn’t until we stepped inside that I realized I hadn’t thought of the blog the entire time we were outside or jogging. Instead, I’d been caught up in spending time with Nathaniel, simply enjoying the evening with my Master. It wasn’t just the sex I missed when I didn’t wear his collar; it was everything about our D/s relationship.
Once inside, he stroked my cheek, told me he’d eat at seven, and went to take a shower. Since it was a bit late, I took mine in the bathroom attached to the old submissive bedroom I used so long ago. That way I could start dinner without being sweaty and having to wait for Nathaniel to finish.
While I prepared our supper, I tried to remember how long it’d been since I’d served him a meal while wearing his collar. I couldn’t recall. I pulled out my favorite china, a set I’d found in the attic right after our engagement. It was Japanese inspired and decorated with vibrant reds and blues. I assumed he would have me serve him in the dining room, so I prepared the table for one.
He entered the dining room at seven and his lips curved up slightly when he saw the china. “Very nice, Abigail.”
“Thank you, Master.”
I remained standing to his side while he ate and a feeling of peace and contentment washed over me. I needed this. It was part of who I was, of who we were. We had to make room in our schedules for it.
He suddenly pushed back from the table. “Come here, Abigail.”
I looked at his plate in shock. Was something wrong? Was the tuna raw or overcooked? It had looked good when I took it out of the oven.