Brain (19 page)

When she finally spoke, it was to say, “Yeah, I’ll be running every morning until I can have sex without needing five minutes afterwards to form a sentence.
Damn
, Brain. You outdid yourself.”

I chuckled, gave her a small squeeze, and kissed her neck. “My wolf has claimed you. You’re ours, now. I mean, he wanted you before, was fully behind my looking for you, stalking you, but tonight, he’s decided we’ll do whatever we have to do to keep you.” I snuggled her again. “Not that I hadn’t already decided, but he was being a pain in the ass about submitting for you. He still isn’t going to let us go overboard, but he’ll lie still for you a little.”

“So, this is kind of like dating both of you? How does that work?” Her voice was so relaxed, so damned sexy. I loved her like this, all worn out and relaxed, melted into me.

“He’s a wild animal and he reacts on instinct. For him, it’s about loyalty and survival… and pack. I’ve been part of the Atlanta RTMC since we lost our true pack in Chattanooga, and it’s helped, but we’ve been kind of lost. Now, with you, it feels as if we belong somewhere again.” I smelled fear, anxiety. I mentally chastised myself for saying too much, and I hastened to add, “I don’t want to freak you out, but I’m trying to explain what it means when I say he’s claimed you.”

“If I thought there was a chance you and Duke could patch things up if I were out of the picture, I’d leave.”

“Duke broke my trust, and hurt me bad. I don’t think there’s a way for us to be friends again.” I sighed and added, “Most of the wolves who work for Aaron Drake are pack, but a few are lone wolves. They say they get enough of what they need from the atmosphere at work, so they can exist as lone wolves.”

“You’re considering his offer?”

“For me, yeah, but if you don’t want to take him up on it, I can help you get set up with whatever you want to do — your own restaurant, or an adventure camp for kids, or a horse farm, or if you just want to be the rich housewife who spends her time on charity events. Whatever you decide, we’ll make it work.”

Harmony

The next couple of days went by quickly. I awoke early and ran, Brain by my side whether I wanted him there or not. We’d been careful to keep the neighbors from seeing my face at first, but now it was fine for them to see me, and I’d selected a neighborhood with no traffic cams, which was one less worry. I still wore glasses and let some hair fall in my face, though, just to be safe.

Brain and I had sex at least once or twice a day, with me sitting in his lap, or with him lying on his back. I knew this couldn’t go on forever, so one morning as we ate breakfast after our five mile run, I told him, “I could barely function at first, after my time with the Russians. I tried to go on a date about eight months afterwards, and I beat the hell out of him when he tried to kiss me. I didn’t mean to, I just… lost it. One minute I was dying inside because his lips were on mine, and the next minute I was sitting on his torso punching his face over and over. I have no memories of anything in between.”

He reached for my hand, and I let him hold it a few seconds before I lifted them together, kissed the back of his, and then extracted my hand. I didn’t need comforting, but I appreciated the thought. “So, I made a list of the classes necessary for someone to become a psychologist, researched the books each of those classes required, and went to a college bookstore and bought every textbook. It took me nearly a year to work my way through all of them. I then branched off into the special classes for dealing with extreme trauma and PTSD, and found some military textbooks designed to teach their mental health professionals.”

He grinned. “So, you’re basically a psychologist without the degree.”

“You know what it’s like to be this smart, how easy it is to learn new concepts, how hard it is to deal with emotions? I wrote everything out so I’d have a written record of it, but after learning about how to reshape the brain after trauma, I went over it all again, as if I were moving the memory from my brain to the data on the hard drive. I did a lot of exercises — writing things down instead of talking to a therapist, and I reached the point I could have sex with men again, though you understand it isn’t exactly normal sex… it’s worked for me, until you came along.”

“So what do we do now? What’s the next step, to get you where you want to be?”

Would anyone else have known what to say? He knew I wasn’t brushing him off, but was explaining my reactions, and that I’d done a lot of work to get this far, and now it was time for more work, to get me the rest of the way to normal. I smiled, reached for his hand, and squeezed it as I said, “I want you to wash my hair. Sitting in the tub, facing each other, because I think I need the eye contact. If I zone out or freak, you keep going. Talk to me, tell me I’m okay, but keep massaging my scalp and washing my hair until I come back. If I fight you, then do what you need to do to stay safe until I come back, but then go right back to washing my hair. No pain, no harsh words. We keep doing it until I can see it as a good thing. Day after day, until I can relax and enjoy it.”

Did he know how much trust I was giving him? How terrifying it was for me to give him this kind of power? I held my breath waiting for his reaction, and my eyes went a little watery when he stood from his chair, walked to my side of the table, and pulled me into his arms.

“I can see where you’re going with this, and I can do it with your hair, but we’ll have to talk about whether I can handle the next step.” He kissed the top of my head, and squeezed me a half second before going back to a loose hold again. “Together, we’ll figure it out, though. I promise.”

Right, because he immediately understood that eventually he’d have to make love to me in the missionary position, knowing it might make me go all zombie, or alternately, make me fight as if my life depended on it. God, what must that do to him? Instead of asking, though, I told him something else that’d been bothering me. “Someday, you’re going to hug me without having to worry about making me feel trapped.”

“Until that day comes, I’ll gladly do whatever’s necessary to make you feel safe in my arms.” I looked down a few seconds, unwilling to let him see my watery eyes. I knew he could smell my emotions, but it was hard for me to let anyone see my weaknesses. Part of me was glad he could smell them, though, so I didn’t have to feel so guilty about looking down. He deserved to know how his words affected me.

I’d been starving when we came back from our run, so we hadn’t showered yet. When we finished the dishes, I took him by the hand, walked him to the bathroom, and started filling the tub.

“My hair gets washed twice, then it gets the conditioner. It might be better to get through the shampoos at a normal speed, and then just keep working the conditioner through my hair until I can handle it.”

“We’re doing this now?”

I nodded. “Yeah, before I chicken out and change my mind.”

Brain

I could smell her terror as we stepped into the tub, and my wolf balked. He did
not
want to do this. He only knew she was terrified of what we were about to do, and there was no way to explain the logic behind it to him. I don’t often have to push him down until I can’t hear him at all, but I had to now, because I was having a hard time with it, too.

“I know you said you need to face me, but I need to get you to relax for me. I want you to sit with your back to me while the tub fills, so I can massage your shoulders. Put your hair up — I won’t touch it while you aren’t facing me, okay?”

She nodded, grabbed a clip, piled her hair on top of her head, twisted it, and clipped it so it stayed.

I massaged her shoulders and neck for a good twenty minutes, and she was totally relaxed, when she turned around and said, “Enough, Brain. We have to do this.”

I nodded, changed places with her so she was leaning against the back of the tub and could be more comfortable, and I used the handheld unit to wet her hair before I started with the shampoo.

She whimpered once, caught herself, and stopped breathing, though I could tell she was still with me.

“Breathe, Harmony. I’m good with whatever sounds you need to make.”

“I think I might need to cry, and I haven’t cried in front of anyone in… I can’t remember the last time. Maybe my mom, in middle school?”

“Cry, scream, cuss, fight… whatever. Just as long as you’re breathing.”

She didn’t cry, but stopped holding her breath. Instead, she must’ve been counting to fifteen with each breath, forcing herself to inhale deeply and then let it all out slowly.

I rinsed the shampoo, put more in, worked it up to a nice sudsy froth, and felt when she left me. Her eyes were unfocused, and she didn’t hear me when I spoke to her. I rinsed the shampoo, super careful not to hurt her, talking to her the whole time, telling her she was fine, talking about our run that morning, and the beautiful sunrise, and how it was supposed to rain tomorrow morning, and a run in the rain might be fun.

I conditioned her hair, massaged her scalp, massaged her shoulders, kissed her forehead, and when she came back, I didn’t act as if anything were wrong, just kept up with what I was doing.

When I rinsed, I told her, “Help me make sure I have all the conditioner out, please?”

She ran her hands through it as I worked the handheld shower unit, and when I finally turned the water off, I stroked her head, over the top of her hair, and leaned in for a gentle kiss.

Neither of us said anything about the experience, we went along with the rest of our day as if it hadn’t happened. I followed her to a gym we’d joined, and I went through the motions of working out as a human would, as she pushed her muscles to the point of exhaustion.

Sex was pretty much the same as it had been, with me flat on my back in the bed, her riding me, and ending with me on my knees fucking her from below. My wolf was itchy, he wanted more, but in this, he understood he’d have to wait.

The next morning, I let him watch the end of the shampoo and conditioner session, hoping he’d begin to understand what we were doing, but he just got pissed at me.

The fourth day, she stayed with me, her eyes focused on me the entire time. The fifth, she was scared when we got into the tub, but not terrified.

As we got out and dried each other, she asked, “How royally fucked is it we’re trying to work
towards
missionary?”

I chuckled and kissed her forehead. “Not fucked up at all. You have to know I did my own research on PTSD and recovering from torture, and I know how unusual it is for you to have made this much progress in less than a week. I was prepared to do it for a month before you stepped into the tub without smelling terrified.” I put a hand on each cheek — the gentlest of touches, but she’d have shut down on me for even this a month ago. “You are the most determined, hard-headed, strongest, smartest woman I’ve ever met.”

She turned her face sideways, kissed the palm of one of my hands, and stepped forward to wrap her arms around my neck and nestle her head against my chest.

“I want to try missionary. I won’t ask you to keep going if I zone out, but I’m not going to insist you stop, either. You and your wolf seem to know what’ll work, what I need. I’m going to trust you to do whatever you think best, and if you screw up, I promise not to be mad. I don’t know what to tell you to do, so if you don’t get it right, I can’t hold you responsible.”

I felt my heartbeat change rhythm until it matched Harmony’s, and I didn’t know if my wolf had done it, or if we’d just fallen into perfect synch at that moment, but it gave me the courage to say, “Okay, Buttercup, but does this mean I get to go down on you from above, first?”

She was at peace with this conversation, no fear, no major anxiety. I knew that would likely change when we began, but for now, she chuckled and said, “Whatever you think best.”

“Sometimes, when you zone out, your heart beats as if you were running or fighting, and you smell as if you’re in fight-or-flight mode, even though you’re shut down. Other times, your heart rate slows, as does your breathing, almost as if you’re a bear in hibernation. When you come out of the first, I have to calm you when you return, but you seem to just slide back into reality from the second.”

“I don’t know why it’s different, but I can definitely tell the difference. When they had me, the latter probably served me better, since there wasn’t a way to escape.” She paused and added, “Well, until there was, in which case I took advantage of it.” She’d sat at her vanity seat, and looked up now, so her gaze met mine in the mirror. “We’re still meeting Aaron Drake tomorrow?”

I nodded. “Yes, though I’m thinking we’ll need a good four to six weeks to come up with the plan, which should be enough time to get you back into top form, again. I’d like to spar with you some, work on your fighting skills. Do you think you’ll be okay with that? Or would you be better off sparring with a woman? I know someone I can probably get to work out with you, but she’s in Chattanooga.”

She shook her head. “No, if we’re going to convince my subconscious you aren’t the enemy, it can’t see you throwing a punch at me.”

“Okay, we’ll see if Aaron can get Kirsten to come work out with you while we’re in town. Fair warning, she’s also a therapist, so if you decide you like her, maybe we can set up some time for you to talk to her, but no pressure.”

She shook her head. “I learned about psychology because I can never talk to anyone about what happened — not without putting both them and me at risk.”

“Kirsten works with Aaron, and she talks to his men — many of whom are ex-military. She’s trustworthy, she knows I’m a werewolf, and she seems to be capable of taking care of herself. Again, no pressure, but we’ll see how things go with the two of you sparring, if Aaron can work it out.”

“How does she know? Is she one, too?”

“No, she’s human. Or, she smells human, anyway. Why don’t you dry your hair and meet me in the bedroom?”

I smelled a hit of delicious arousal, closely followed by the stench of putrid, acrid fear. My wolf once again revolted, but I pushed him down. According to the professionals, when dealing with PTSD, the first step was the hardest and the next steps usually easier. We were well on our way through the first step, with her hair. Theoretically, her subconscious no longer saw me as a threat, and the next step should be easier.

Plus, once I got her horny, I could push a little more, so the trick today would be getting her to relax and let go, knowing the end objective was missionary. This would be easier if she didn’t know what I was aiming for, but without her consent, I didn’t dare try, so… catch twenty-two.

When she came in the room, I was on my side, stretched out on top of the bed. “Come lay with me, side by side?”

She nodded, and my heart broke as I could tell she was forcing herself to make every step towards me.

“Stop.” She froze, her eyes panicked — total deer in the headlights — which hadn’t been my intention.

“Breathe, Buttercup. We’re gonna start out by fooling around, see where we get. We may not make it to missionary today, and that’s okay. We don’t have to do it all at once. If we add a new position today, even for just a few minutes, we’ll have succeeded, okay? Doesn’t have to be with you flat on your back for me to enjoy it.”

She nodded again, took a deep breath, let it out, and walked to the bed.

I offered my hand, she took it, and I gently pulled her onto the bed. When we were side-by-side, facing each other, I touched under her chin, brought my lips to hers, and started with a gentle kiss, feather touches, encouraging her to open her mouth, to acquiesce, and she melted into me as she opened and let me in.

Trust can be such an incredible aphrodisiac, and every cell in my body felt alive as I kissed and teased her into submission. This strong woman who’d been hurt so bad, was giving me control, and no way was I going to do anything to break the trust she was giving me.

One of her hands landed on my shoulder, and I stroked her arm as I kissed her, tasted her lips, caressed her tongue with mine, and finally pulled away and kissed my way down her long, elegant neck, down her breast, skipping the nipple, for now.

I scooted down the bed, kissed her flat stomach, nibbled the skin around her hip, and she moaned and ran her fingers through my hair, which sent even more blood rushing toward my already impossibly hard cock.

I scooted around, so my feet were angled towards the headboard and I could go down on her more easily from the side, and I continued from her hip down her leg, then to her inner thigh, and I finally teased her outer labia with long, slow strokes of my tongue.

I was closer to her clit than I’d ever been, but only with my tongue. My hands rested on her legs, relaxed and at ease.

I kept my movements slow and controlled as I gradually worked her up, and waited until I heard her moan the word, “
Please
,” before I gave her more with my tongue, and now I moaned as I tasted her sweetness. She was no longer terrified, not even anxious — she wanted me, and trusted me to make it good.

I stopped being so cautious and went to work devouring the beautiful woman in my bed… no, in
our
bed. It’d felt so good when she’d finally been able to sleep in a regular bed again instead of the recliner — so fucking good to have her in my arms at night.

And now, as I drove her arousal levels sky high, and tortured myself with the taste of the woman I loved, I kept a tight rein on my own lust. My hips wanted to pump, needed to thrust, but now wasn’t the time.

I brought her to orgasm once, and held her tight so I could drive her even higher with my tongue as she tossed and writhed.

I moved up the bed, situated us so we were side by side, facing each other, and I lifted her top leg and told her, “Loop it over your arm, please?” I wanted her to hold it up, not me, and thankfully she complied.

I positioned my cock, but didn’t press in yet. She opened her eyes, her gaze met mine, and I saw her need, her want, her submission. I let my wolf come up enough to see her submission, and then I pressed into her, our eyes locked.

She let go of her leg, wrapped it around my waist, and pulled me closer. I grinned and pulled back, pushed back in, but still only gave her an inch or two of me. Her husky whimper almost had me plunging straight in, but I held back, for now.

She needed me a little at a time right now, too much and she might retreat wherever she goes when she shuts down, and I was determined to keep her with me through this.

I analyzed her critically a few seconds — lips kiss-swollen and parted oh-so-sexy, pupils dilated against those multi-colored eyes I loved so much, and I thought she might be ready.

“Hold me, Buttercup.”

She wrapped her top arm around me, squeezed me tighter with her leg, and I pressed home, my hand on her beautiful ass to hold her in place.

I took her slow at first, gauging depth as I went, so I only shifted a little of my length into width since she seemed to be able to handle me going deeper at this angle.

I
so
wanted to play with her clit, but we hadn’t talked about it yet, and I didn’t want to push too much today, so instead I said, “Play with yourself, Buttercup.”

Her pulse hopscotched and leapt in the side of her neck, but the sweet, spicy scent of her arousal flooded my senses as her hand went to her labia over her clit, and her moan made my cock throb inside her.

“Kiss me, please?” Her voice was breathy, and I leaned towards her and kissed her, pressing my tongue into her mouth as my cock sank back into her warmth, and we both groaned in unison.

I hadn’t wanted to make her taste herself, but it must’ve been a good thing, because her hips moved faster, her arm grasped me tighter, so I gave her more speed, more power, and she melted into me even more.

I stopped kissing her, ran my fingers from her temple to the back of her head once before remembering I shouldn’t do it, but she didn’t react, didn’t seem to realize I’d done it. However, I didn’t want to tempt fate too much, so I moved my hand to her shoulder, pushed it towards the bed as I rolled on top of her, and intensified the kiss.

She froze, but the arousal was still there, and I could only smell a little fear, so I pulled up enough to say, “Wrap your legs around me, hold me, tell me what you need, Harmony.”

Now I smelled determination mixed with lust and desire, and I slowed my thrusts as I told her, “Just me and you.” I rose over her and held her gaze as I slowly went in and out and in and out. I could feel every millimeter as I pushed in and dragged back out, and when her eyes rolled back in her head with bliss, I sped a tiny bit.

“God, Brain, stop
teasing
me. I’m okay, and I know what you need.”

Breathless, I told her, “Today’s about what you need.”

She shook her head, her eyes closed, “Fine, then smell the truth in my words when I tell you I need you to fuck the hell out of me. God, it’s been so damned long since I could enjoy this,
please
, Brain, don’t make me beg.”