Still (20 page)

He stiffened, then took a deep breath. “You’re not going to push me away, Domina. I’ll be here for whatever you need me to do.”

His words disarmed her and she scrambled to regain her footing. “I need you to step out of the way so I can use the bathroom.”

He moved aside with a sardonic bow.

Once safely behind the door of the bathroom, she leaned against the wall and grabbed a towel. Bunching it up, she shoved it against her mouth and screamed, letting out the pain festering inside of her. She wanted to wail, gnash her teeth, rend her clothing so the world could see a visible badge of the sorrow in her soul. But she couldn’t, wouldn’t fall down that dark well again.

Wyatt was depending on her and letting him down wasn’t an option.

Strength returned to her and she stood, her legs weak and trembling. It had been a very long time since she’d cried this hard. Come to think of it, there were only two times she’d cried like this. One was at Owen’s funeral, and the other was when Wyatt had been injured. Jesus, had she subconsciously thought she lost Wyatt? Is that why she kept holding back the one thing she knew would cement them together, sex?

Only it wouldn’t be just sex with Wyatt.

It would be making love.

Looking into her red eyes and puffy face in the mirror she turned on the cold water. After soaking a washcloth in the icy stream she wrung it out then applied it over her nose and eyes. It was a trick her mother used when she’d been an actress and had to go from a scene where she cried to a scene where she had to look normal.

When Michelle took the washcloth off her face the swelling had indeed gone down and she chalked up another point for her mom. Her hair was a frizzed out mess, looking almost like an afro, but at least she didn’t look like she’d suffered an allergic reaction. She glanced down at her pajamas, glad to see she hadn’t messed them up. A knock came from the door and she suppressed a sigh.

“Come in.”

Wyatt peeked his head in. “A delivery man is here with a shit ton of boxes for you.”

She smiled, this time with a trace of true happiness. He smiled back and care and understanding in his gaze made her heart skipped a beat. There it was, a hint of the connection she got from making a sub fly. It was a subtle difference, like a song sung in a different key, but similar enough to warm her through and through. She cleared her throat, took a deep breath then splashed some more water on her face. He handed her a towel without being asked, anticipating her needs.

Holding out her hand, she said, “Come on. I have some toys to show you.”

Chapter 9

Wyatt trailed after Michelle, amazed at how quickly she pulled herself together. He’d seen his sister cry like that a couple times and she’d looked like shit afterwards. While Michelle’s hair was an adorable fluffy mess, the rest of her was as put together as a runway model. The natural grace returned to her step, and the way her red silk robe shifted over her thighs made his dick hard. Cursing, he looked away, trying to get himself under control before the delivery guy saw him.

Michelle entered the foyer first while he adjusted himself and Wyatt got to watch the delivery guy’s jaw drop. He looked stunned and Wyatt had a hard time holding his laughter. Poor guy. He’d seen that look on a thousand Marines' faces. The delivery man, with a name tag identifying him as Paul Stanely, stared down at Michelle, no doubt getting a good view of her cleavage. Michelle seemed not to notice and she chatted with him while signing for her packages.

Wyatt strolled behind her and wrapped his arms around her, giving her a sound kiss on the side of the neck. “What’s in the boxes, beautiful?”

She handed the clipboard back and reached behind Wyatt, giving his ass a hard pinch. “Just some toys.”

Paul cleared his throat and backed up a step, his eyes going between Michelle’s bare legs and Wyatt glowering behind her. “Thanks, ma’am. Uh, if you ever need anything else delivered, ask for me and I’ll get it to you as quick as I can.”

“Thank you.” She smiled and ushered the stunned young man out, shutting the door behind him with a snick.

The gleam in her eyes at once aroused Wyatt and scared him. She bit her lower lip and strode across the foyer towards him, that sensual smile curving her lips into an image of sin. His cock wasn’t worried one bit about what kind of fucked up BDSM toys might be used on him. He still wore the cock ring, never having bothered to take it off. It was loose enough right now so that he could wear it for a long period of time. In some weird way the ring around his cock reminded him of her…well, her ownership for lack of a better word. The caress of that smooth metal marked him as belonging to her as surely as the rings through his nipples.

He had a feeling that as soon as Michelle spotted the cock ring she would tighten it and make him sweat.

If helping her feel better meant he had to take some ball squeezing pleasure, he’d just have to make that sacrifice.

When she finally reached him electricity sizzled across his body. Any lingering trace of sorrow had left her eyes, leaving behind mischief and arousal. Still, he noticed how tired she looked beneath it all and he sighed internally, trying to figure out how he would get her to rest without insulting her or incurring her wrath.

“So, what’s in the boxes?” He was proud that his voice came out steady, even if a bit tight.

She ran her hands up his stomach, playing with the lines between his ribs before reaching his nipples. Before he’d gotten them pierced he wasn’t that into having his chest played with. But now…fuck, it felt so damn good. And Michelle seemed to love them. She couldn’t be near them without wanting to touch.

“The big box holds some clothes for you.”

“What kind of clothes?”

“The kind I want you to wear.” She gave him an impish smile. “Don’t worry, James picked them out. He wouldn’t let me put you in silk harem pants.”

Refusing to be distracted by that disturbing image, he nodded his head in the direction of the pile of smaller packages. “And the other boxes?”

“Well, go get me a knife from the kitchen and we’ll see.”

He hesitated, torn between spending an evening with Michelle, indulging her every kinky whim, and doing what he had to do in order to serve her best. As always his innate sense of right and wrong kicked in and he sighed, regretting what he was about to say. “Michelle, we’ve had a long night and you’ve given me a great deal to think about.” A brief flash of hurt tightened her face and he went to his knees before her, trying to coax out a smile. “Besides, I’ve been put in charge of your security, Domina, and I take my position as you chief of security very seriously. And aren’t you the one always telling me to go slow, to savor? I’d like some time to savor.”

She stroked her hand through his hair with a bemused and almost sad smile. “While your attempts to manipulate me are as obvious as a five-year-old's, I happen to agree with you.”

He nuzzled his face against her stomach, remembering James doing the same to Yuki earlier and understanding the appeal now. This portion of Michelle’s body was so feminine, the belly and her hips, a soft and inviting cradle that all men yearn for. His base urges wanted him to nuzzle lower, where the scent of her musk would coat his face and tongue, but he restrained himself.

“Do you have a computer I could use? And a cell phone charger?”

“Hmm, yes. You can use my computer in the library. Log in under the guest profile, please. I have patient files under my personal profile that you can’t see.”

“Of course.” He looked up at her. “Want me to come tuck you in?”

She laughed and tightened her grip on his hair, hard enough to slightly sting and feel good. “No, I think it’s better if you stay down here right now.” She gave him a gentle smile. “I find my ability to resist your charms is pathetically weak.”

“No, not weak.” He stood and cupped her face in his hands, stroking her satiny cheeks with his thumbs, looking into her bluer than blue eyes. “You are the strongest woman I know.”

She reached up and placed her hands over his before removing them with a soft sound of regret. “You know where my study is. I suggest your haul ass there before I decide to do something wicked with it.”

“You want to do wicked things with my ass?”

“You have until the count of ten.”

“No, seriously, Michelle, I don’t know if I want anyone near my ass.”

“Nine.”

He backed up a pace, his sphincter clenching. “Is that what’s in those boxes? Things you want to put in my ass?”

Her feline smile curved her lips. “Eight.”

“Okay, okay.”

He turned on his heel and strode past her to the hall off the foyer leading to her study. When her hand connected with his ass he bit back a groan. Damn, who’d have thought a spanking from such a small hand could leave such a lasting impression. He might have to reconsider his stance on no rough stuff with Michelle. If she could make something like a slap of the hand erotic, he couldn’t wait to see what else she could do with him.

With his erection leading the way, he had to laugh at himself. Never, in a bazillion years did he think he’d be here, doing this, with
her
. All those times he’d been standing so close to her, near enough to touch if either of them shifted an inch, but neither willing to cross that line. So, he’d suffered with a perpetual case of blue balls, but what he didn’t know at the time was how hot she’d been for him. Fuck, she’d hidden it well. Every once in a while he’d could have sworn he caught her watching him with a look of such desire that he’d usually fuck up whatever he was doing. He could still remember her laughter when that look had made him drop a box of wrenches, and his swearing as one hit his foot. It wouldn’t have been as bad if it had been a regular wrench, but those were the big ones they used on the transport vehicles.

That shit had hurt.

He reached the smooth wood door leading to the library and paused to run his hand over the jam. Whoever had installed it had left an edge and he frowned at the shoddy craftsmanship. The contractor in charge of doing the renovations wasn’t maintaining a high level of detail. His gut tightened and anger simmered in his blood at the thought of someone ripping her off. When he saw that contractor he was going to take him aside and….no. No, he wasn’t going to beat some guy’s ass because of the rough edge on a door frame.

Closing his eyes, he turned on the lights and walked past the door jam, unwilling to let his fucked up mind dwell on it.

He slumped into her chair and a puff of her perfume swirled around him. Immediately he relaxed, and just let himself feel. He hesitated, unsure if it was a good idea, but trying it out anyway. Closing his eyes he went still, imaging her voice whispering it in his ear, the only thing in the world his body and the scent of her perfume.

Ethereal and delicious, like spun sugar candy.

Jesus Christ, he was so fucking pussy whipped.

An image of Michelle dressed in some type of latex body suit holding a whip came to mind and his dick tried to punch a hole through his pants. Okay, that was certainly not helping him focus, but he was no longer freaked out. Pulling the chair into the niche beneath her driftwood desk he let out a soft sigh after turning on the blue and purple Tiffany lamp next to the monitor.

Now this desk was a thing of beauty. He marveled at the size of the logs needed to make a solid surface this big. Smoothing his hand over the wood he smiled in appreciation. It was smooth, silken, like a woman’s skin. Someone had spent months, if not close to a year making this.

Relaxed, but somehow more awake, he clicked the mouse and began his search.

*****

Three hours and a half dozen phone calls later he had a guard dog trainer coming tomorrow with five dogs to show Michelle. If none of the dogs displayed an interest in guarding her, they’d have to try someone else. He really hoped it worked, because these dogs were amazing. The lady who trained them was a retired military war dog trainer. They’d had an animated discussion about her techniques, each trading stories about their time in the service. He’d liked it, a lot. Not because the woman reminded him of a dirty version of his Aunt Betsy, but because they’d had an instant bond because of their service.

It was nice, and he realized he’d missed that. How could he not? He spent eighteen years of his life, from eighteen to thirty-six working for Uncle Sam. His life had been the military and he’d grown used to that atmosphere. Talking with someone who understood that felt good, and he considered taking the dog trainer, Lilly, up on her offer to show him around the local Veterans of Foreign Wars of the United States Hall. She said the VFW was actually a pretty full place now. They’d had a lull during what she called ‘the peaceful years’ between wars, but now with everyone coming back from the sandbox they’d had a huge uptick in members. She’d sounded sad about that and he didn’t have to ask why.

War sucked.

With a long sigh he pushed himself out of the chair and stretched. His spine snapped, crackled, and popped with each breath he took. Fuck he was getting old. Maybe he’d start up yoga or some shit if he wanted to keep up with Michelle’s sexual appetite. Turning off the lamp, he ambled across the dark room and went down the hall.

He’d also emailed his sister, giving her directions to Michelle’s house. Tomorrow Joy would come by and bring his things. She’d immediately written back demanding to know what was going on, so he’d spent an extra half an hour convincing her that it was him, and he was indeed alive. And yes, he was currently shacking up with a woman.

Then he’d told his sister who that woman was and she’d immediately changed her tune, asking him if he wanted his truck up as well. After hesitating for a moment, he said no. He didn’t want to give Michelle any reason to think that he was leaving her. His Domina was carrying around some heavy shadows on her heart and he’d realized tonight how vulnerable she was beneath her strong surface. While he would never claim to understand the way a woman’s mind worked, he was pretty sure that in her own way, Michelle needed him more than he needed her. Yeah, he was fucked up with PTSD and had always been a difficult son of a bitch, but that didn’t change his macho pig view that his woman’s problems would always come before his own, that he would throw everything he had into making her feel better. Not just for now, but for the long term.