Twice Shy (The Restraint Series) (5 page)

He could see the concern on her face. See the words she was holding back: “I thought we had finally gotten her out of your life.” Knowing those words would alienate him.

Brendan nodded. “Whatever you’re biting your tongue about, Mom–just remember my personal life is exactly that–mine. I respectfully request you keep out of it. I make my own choices now. I hope I don’t need to remind you about some of the paths you forced me down.” Brendan pointed to his throat and gave her a meaningful look.

Her face clouded. She paused, looked defeated and nodded. She turned and left the room.

He looked at the clock. Still a few hours to go before they met up. Those hours would be interminable. He hoped Cee would at least hear him out. Let them try at the very least a friendship again.

He belonged to her, and she to him. Brendan just had to do his damnedest to convince her. He knew Cee didn’t trust easily. He’d have to jump through every hoop to build trust back up.

A
fter the vodka and the carb binge, Stacy didn’t need the Ambien. She hadn’t slept much the previous night. West knew Stacy had an affinity for naps. She tended to burn the candle at both ends and supplement her sleep debt with afternoon pre-work snoozes.

Waking up later, Stacy noticed the connecting door was closed and she hoped West had napped also. She decided that having a long soak in the tub was in order before she had to “tart herself up” as West would say.

After rinsing out the tub just in case the chambermaid had missed it (there were some habits she picked up from West) she filled the tub and soaked for a while.

Baths were second only to afternoon naps in Stacy’s opinion. She showered after going to the gym, but baths were for soaking the brain and the body. They were also a great way of getting rid of sexual tension. Although she didn’t particularly like “There’s Something About Mary”, name notwithstanding, she agreed with the theory that a little masturbation went a long way. It stopped her pink parts from ruling her head.

The only problem with getting off was that she usually fantasized about a former sexual experience. And the most vivid movie playing in her head at the moment included Brendan.

He had sneaked into her head here and there during her do-it-yourself orgasms. She tried to push him out of there, but it rarely worked. The harder she fought it, the more her psyche battled to keep him there.

She could call any of the subs she knew and get sexual satisfaction. But Stacy didn’t really like sex without some sort of emotional connection. Even phone sex.

She was popular at the club. Stacy wasn’t into humiliation and didn’t like inflicting anything but pleasurable pain. She loved cock-and-ball torture. Loved controlling a man’s orgasm. Loved getting her submissive so close to orgasm and bringing him back. It was the best thing about being a Domme, giving that gift to the sub, engendering trust between them.

Instead of thinking of anyone in particular, she decided to try to think about no-one. Closing her eyes and soaking up the heat in the water, she inched down her body, stroking her tightening nipples, and glided her right hand down her rounded belly to her pussy lips. Bending her knees, she decided not to make it sensual. Just down and dirty. Letting her still-closed eyes look into the blackness behind her lids, breathing deeply and centering herself. Forcing all other thoughts out of her head, she then started rubbing her clit slowly while breathing deeply in and out, contracting the walls of her vagina at the same time.

She felt the lovely familiar feeling coiling in her lower belly and took her finger off the good spot for a while, knowing if she laid off at the right moment during the build-up the orgasm would come faster when she started again.

Feeling the not-quite-oily wetness between her legs, she again started out on her clitoris, rubbing in staccato-like circles, lightly interspersing a bit of tapping with rubbing. She concentrated on her breathing as it contracted her vagina in a way bearing down didn’t. She felt the heat radiate over the front of the hipbones, lifting her hips and then taking her palm and pressing it hard down while using the other hand to press down firmly above her triangle, pointing her toes to bring on a better sensation.

Then she came suddenly. The spasms, the inner legs contracting along with her insides, muscles freezing altogether in a rictus while she came.

Resting her body in the now cooled water, Stacy waited until she recovered to stand. She then got on with the business part of her shower.

Unfortunately in those last moments, all the thoughts she forced out of her mind were for naught as her mind chose to show her the face that she really didn’t want to see when she was coming. The man who betrayed her. The man she really didn’t want to want. But did.

Getting out of the shower, she supposed it was inevitable in a karmic sort of way that Brendan would have to be here when she came back to Cutters Creek. He was the one person she still wanted to see. Also the one person she wanted to take every step to avoid.

He’d already stomped on her heart once.

After taking way too long to style her hair, find the perfect bra and panties, then top them with a dress and don’t-fuck-with-me boots, Stacy knocked on the connecting door. West slightly opened it, his ear to his cellphone, and mouthed, “Ten minutes.”

Which gave her much longer to fuss. Considering she wasn’t really the type to obsess about outfits, hair and looks, she knew the cause was Brendan.

The thing with Mary was still whirling in her brain. She hadn’t come anywhere near to processing it yet.

She wondered what it would be like growing up a Domme in a place where women were supposed to be subservient. It would have been so much worse.

Plus, she wouldn’t have had West and Tim in her life without Mary. For that matter, without Brendan, she wouldn’t have run away.

Not that she’d forgiven either Mary or Brendan. No way.

Yet she was looking forward to seeing Brendan too much. She didn’t want to feel like that.

West knocked and opened the door slightly. “Ready, lovey?”

Stacy didn’t say anything, she just walked up to West and held out her hand. He took it, kissed it and they walked out of her door.

On the ride over, West gave Stacy a snapshot of the work he had put into motion when she was napping, fluffing and peacocking. He’d told Tim the skinny and tasked him with chasing down a lawyer who could get her a whole mess of ‘illegal contracts’. It would take some time and probably quite a bit of money, but it was already in the works.

“If that doesn’t work, I have some higher-up connections.”

Stacy raised an eyebrow. But some pretty famous and well-placed people frequented Restraint, West and Tim’s club.

Stacy shook her head, thinking again what it would’ve been like to grow up a member of Montana Freedom. Being molded into an anti-government racist. She shivered at the thought. She would hate people like Tim and West because they were gay and were involved in an alternative lifestyle.

Stacy was relieved she wasn’t going to have to live her life with fake papers. Knowing her personality, she would have looked guilty every time someone asked her for her faked driver’s license or birth certificate. Now, she had a new future to consider. A flare of excitement burst in her belly.

Parking was full outside the Saloon. It was nine p.m. and the Saturday night crowd was already there.

And Mary and Brendan were inside. Except Sarge, Stacy didn’t care about anyone else in this town so she didn’t worry about it. They walked up to the bar to greet Sarge. Never failing to get to the point, Sarge said, “Mary’s at two o’clock and Brendan’s at five.”

Stace turned around to look for Brendan and he was on his feet, cautious as he walked to her, trying not to spook her perhaps. She looked at him. He’d filled out, not tremendously, but what he had was honed. He had on what looked like a soft brown t-shirt and barely blue jeans, so broken in they had almost been leached of color.

His chest was well defined on his six-foot frame. Nice biceps, not steroidal big, but large enough to convey strength. His jeans hung low in the front, low enough that when he moved, she could see the barest glimpse of belly. His caramel hair was in need of a haircut, thick and slightly shaggy, but not long.

His green eyes were as bright and perceptive as ever. As alpha male as ever. Many people thought a man couldn’t be dominant in life and submissive in the bedroom. That was the best kind. The kind who wanted to take care of their mate, protect them, and then submit in the bedroom, knowing full well they could overpower their Domme at any moment if they so chose. Having a strong man submit? The sexiest damn thing in the world.

She turned her head towards him, and he sped his pace. “Cee.” His voice sounded raspy, hoarse. Even that was sexy.

“Please don’t call me that. Stacy or Stace will do.”

He nodded. Looked deeply into her eyes. “Stacy, can we talk?”

“What do you want to talk about?”

“Just talk. About anything.” His green eyes focused on her blue ones. Sending bolts of unwanted heat to her nether -regions. Swallowing hard, he said, “Anything. But if you let me I want to apologize. And explain. Not justify, but explain.” He made a placating gesture with his hands as if he thought he would spook her. That Stacy would either verbally attack him or walk out.

She hated that she was still attracted to him. But West was right. They needed to talk over some things.

West walked by at that moment, his fingers brushing hers. “The things I do for love,” he said with resignation as he headed towards Mary.

Another cliché. But true. He was flirting with Mary for her, trying to get a name. Her real name.

She returned her gaze to Brendan, who was patiently waiting. “I don’t want to talk in here. I don’t want to go to your mother’s.” It felt wrong after all this time to show him Sarge’s place. “That leaves my motel room. Come on, you can give me a lift up there.”

After telling Sarge where she would be, they left. Brendan opened the door for her. He was coiled tension, clenching and unclenching his keys in his hand as if they were an exercise toy. Stacy could tell he didn’t want to screw this up; he wanted forgiveness. Stacy wondered if she had it to give. Thinking back to her counseling sessions, she was always told letting go and forgiving were better for Stacy’s own emotional state. Doing so wasn’t always about the guilty party, but about her.

Maybe there really was some truth in that. She didn’t feel the resentment she’d expected to experience for Mary or Brendan. She didn’t like Mary much and hadn’t totally forgiven her. Or him. Thankful for where her life ended up. Maybe coming back to this shit-hole was cleansing. Who knew?

By tacit agreement, nothing was said until they were in Stacy’s room. Thankfully it wasn’t a mess inside. Years of Tim and West’s combined tidy genes had rubbed off on her. Some.

Stacy sat in one chair and motioned Brendan to sit in the other.

Silence ensued for quite a long time. Stacy was looking at Brendan, seeing again how he’d physically changed in the past eight years. The soft look teens’ faces had was no longer there. The muscles he had were mostly veinless. Not bulging, but well defined in a soft layer of smooth skin. A brush of dark brown arm hair had sprouted at some point, lightly furring his arms but not his hands.

He was even better-looking now then back in high school, the bastard.

“So.” Stacy prompted Brendan.

Brendan took a breath, making eye contact. “I’ve tried to think of a way to convey how sorry I am, C–I mean Stacy. How do you apologize for it? All I can say is I’ve regretted it every day of my life since. I will do anything...” He swallowed hard, looked at her with determination and hope, his hoarseness even more distinct. “Anything, Stace, to get you back in my life.”

That voice went through her like short fingernails scratching an itch on her back. So warm and tingle-making at the same time. Deep, manly.

She mentally gave herself a slap and shook out of the influence of that voice, sighed. “Here’s the rub, Brendan. I don’t doubt at all you’re sorry. I just don’t know if you’re sorry because you did it or because I saw it.”

Brendan shook his head. “You were the only one who ever believed in me. I wrecked that. After you disappeared, I quit the football team and didn’t associate with the IC. I even cut off ties with Bart. Beat the shit out of him, or tried to after I found out what he did. I fast-tracked in high school, took summer classes and graduated a year early so I could get out of this place. Away from Mom.”

“You became a Forestry Warden, still.”

Brendan nodded. “I was. Hated the job, the bullshit. You know why I did it. Mom wanted me to be Brent Thomas number two. Plus I got this lovely voice from a forest fire. Damage to my vocal cords.” He said it factually, without self-pity.

She wanted to make him feel better. Tell him his voice was sexy as fuck. Revert to old patterns when she championed him and vice versa. She wasn’t ready to accept his apology. “I just don’t understand, Brendan. If I meant half as much to you as you did to me... How could you dirty what happened on my birthday in that way? You were the only one I trusted not to make fun of me behind my back. It made me question every moment we ever had together. Did you laugh about me with Bart?” He opened his mouth, but she said, “No. I’ll have to hope that you didn’t. Because it hurts too much to think that you did.”

The worst part of that night came rushing back to Stacy. The part she had tried not to remember.

After Tommo was declared winner of the Dogfight, they had allowed the guys to get dressed. All the guys were to recite the details of their sexual conquests with the dogs. She had wondered if there were other girls looking on in horror. If that was part of the IC’s game.

“And finally, Tommo, tell everyone your Dogfight story!”

Brendan takes a breath and he looks uncomfortable. It gives me some solace. “So me and Cee hang out every day. She’s a friend and all. I know she’s had a crush on me for years. So getting with her was easy.” Brendan holds up my panties. The ones he had to use safety pins to keep on. Lots of chuckles and I see Bart looking to the car knowingly. “And she’s into kinky stuff. She has fantasies about tying people down.” The tears have made the front of my shirt wet. And still I’m trying to keep quiet, not wanting to ruin it for him. He’s been my best friend since grade one. After all he is saying about me, I don’t understand why I am frozen in place, unable to do to him what he is doing to me. I’ll be the talk of high school tomorrow. The Inner Circle members will make sure of that.