by Laura Kaye
She did, and all she could do was moan as he used his body to restrain her—legs on the outside of hers, holding them down; his ridged stomach pressed to hers; and one of his arms holding hers down above her head. And then he used his free hand to guide his cock to her wet opening. His length made him a master at this position, and it destroyed her every time because it forced the thick root of his dick to grind against her clit on every stroke.
And then he started to move.
“Oh, shit,” she moaned.
He nodded. “You look at me when you come. You hear? Keep those eyes open and on me.” His thighs slapped against hers on every deep, merciless thrust, making the position a full-body experience.
“Too much,” she rasped.
“No, it isn’t. You can take it. You can take me.” He nailed her with a stare, their faces close.
She gave a fast nod. “I’ll take you. I’ll take you, Griffin.”
“I know you will.”
“I’ll take you—” Her mouth dropped open as the orgasm stole her breath.
“Yeahyeahyeah,” he ground out as her pussy milked him. “God, that’s good.” And then he really started to hammer her. And all she wanted to do was feel him pour himself into her, filling her up, marking her as his. Inside and out.
“Want your come,” she said in a breathy voice.
Eyes still on hers, his jaw clenched.
“Want it so bad.”
“Fuck,” he bit out. And then his face went tight as the orgasm hit him. He thrust through it, his cock jerking inside her again and again. “God, baby,” he finally said, his voice trashed. As their bodies calmed, his mouth claimed hers on a deep, thorough, breath-stealing kiss that made her feel cherished and wanted. Slowly, he released the tightness of his grip and withdrew from her. “Just relax right there.”
He eased off the bed, and despite how sated and mind-blown she was, she still had just enough arousal in her to really enjoy that man’s ass as he crossed to the bathroom.
Griffin returned a moment later, and he arched a brow as he saw her face. “What?”
She let her gaze run all over him—over the cut muscles of his shoulders and chest, the indents of muscles low on his hips, the impressive size of his half-hard cock. “The view in this apartment has improved by like a gazillion per cent since you arrived.”
His deep chuckle made her grin. “I don’t know,” he said, coming down next to her. “I think it was already pretty fantastic.” He dropped a kiss on her belly and pressed a warm washcloth between her legs. She gasped, and he smiled, the expression on his face so damn satisfied as he took care of her.
It felt special and...sacred, even. What they’d done. And that they’d done it here, in her space, in her bed. “Griffin?”
“Yeah, baby?” He peered up her body, his dark eyes filled with so much affection. For her.
“Thank you for coming tonight,” she said.
“You don’t have to thank me, Kenna. Because you’ve made me happier than I’ve been in a long damn time.”
“Me, too,” she said. And, for the first time since forever, she was hopeful that she could actually have a chance at being happy again.
Griffin had given that to her.
And that was everything.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
For the next week, they pretty much held true to the schedule that Griffin had jokingly laid out that night, unable to stay away from each other after so many years apart.
And he was fucking ecstatic.
They’d do scenes at Blasphemy, go back to her place and fall asleep in her little bed, and then go to breakfast together at this old-but-delicious diner down the street. He gave her a tour of his workshop, showing her the woodwork for the huge, intricate bar he was currently in the process of crafting for a new microbrewery opening in the city. The day after that, she’d brought him lunch at his shop and spent the afternoon sitting and talking with him as he worked on the bar. If he hadn’t already been in love with her, the pride and awe she wore on her face as she watched him and examined his work, lovingly running his hand over the wood, just as he sometimes did, might’ve done it. And he took her out—to dinner, to walk around the Inner Harbor, and to a street festival in Fells Point.
Because Griffin didn’t just want a submissive, he wanted a partner. For life.
And damn if he didn’t have to restrain himself hard—from making all kinds of plans. Forever plans.
But he did hold himself back. Because Kenna wanted to take things slow. Because, despite the fact that he’d never stopped loving her, she’d once thought that he’d never loved her in the first place. Because she was worth the wait.
The following Sunday night found them sitting at Blasphemy with Master Quinton, Master Kyler, and Mia. All of them had just finished scenes and, hungry, they’d ordered appetizers and taken over the small grouping of couches and chairs secluded in a hallway at the back of what had once been the side aisle of the church.
Halfway through their little impromptu dinner, Kenna touched his knee and smiled at him. “Master Griffin, may I please be excused to get another drink?”
He peered at her, smiling, and then he leaned in and kissed her. “What a good girl you are,” he whispered. They weren’t in a scene, so she didn’t need his permission, and he’d never been a stickler for D/s protocol outside of scenes anyway. But he fucking loved that she showed him the respect to ask. “Of course, baby. Would you please grab me another?” He nodded to his nearly empty beer glass.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Mia,” Master Kyler said. “Why don’t you go with Kenna? I could use a refill, too. Why don’t we get a pitcher?” His gaze ran over the other men.
“I’m down for that,” Master Quinton said, and Griffin nodded. “Thanks, ladies.”
Mia kissed Kyler on the cheek, and then the women departed.
Quinton laughed. “Dude, that wasn’t subtle at all.” He smirked at Kyler, who flipped him off.
“How the hell else were we going to get five minutes alone with Griffin?” he asked, sarcasm plain in his tone. “He hasn’t come up for air in a week.”
“Shut up, asshole,” Griffin said, chuckling. He didn’t mind being teased for the time he’d spent with Kenna. He didn’t mind it at all. Anyway, of anybody, these two knew what Kenna had once meant to him, and he had been wanting to talk to them. Because he didn’t want to fuck things up.
“So what’s going on, G?” Quinton asked. “Have you two worked everything out, from before?”
“Mostly, I think so,” he said, looking from Quinton’s unusually serious expression to Kyler’s observing blue eyes.
“What’s ‘mostly’ mean?” Kyler asked.
Griffin shrugged. “She wants to take it slow. And after what happened between us before, I can’t really blame her for that. And she’s dealing with other issues, too. Her arm?” He glanced at each of his friends in turn. This was the thing he’d most been needing a sound board for. “She lost it in fucking Afghanistan. IED explosion. When I couldn’t find her five years ago, that’s what happened—she’d enlisted in the Marines and gone off to war a few months later.”
“Fuck, really?” Quinton asked, wiping his hands on a napkin. “Damn. I’m really sorry she got hurt. How is her arm feeling? Can you still do the Shibari with her?”
“She has some pain, and I have to be much more aware of restricting blood flow for too long to that arm, but it’s good, actually. Really good. We’re figuring our way around it together,” he said, his brain resurrecting the scene they’d done earlier that night. He’d bound her legs in a wide kneeling position with the rope crisscrossing her thighs so beautifully, and then he’d run the knots up her belly, around her breasts, and to her arms, secured in a not-too-demanding position behind her back. Remembering how much she’d liked the Sybian scene they’d passed that night, he’d made her ride one, bent over, so he could take her from behind while she came on his cock again and again...
“Earth to Grif
fin, come in Griffin.” Quinton waved a hand in front of his face.
“Fucker,” Griffin muttered, but he was so busted. The other men laughed.
“It must also be said.” Quinton gave that trademark grin. “Her being a Marine? That’s fucking bad ass.” Kyler nodded.
Chuffing out a laugh, Griffin nodded and drained the last of his beer. “It is,” he said. “But she’s struggling. Because the bomb that took her arm killed her best friend and one other teammate, and then some bastard of a doctor told her that she owed her life to her friend taking the brunt of the impact. Can you fucking believe that?” Rage ran hot in his gut every time he thought about that, and about the devastation that had been in her eyes when she’d recounted the story.
“Jesus Christ,” Kyler said. “So, she’s rockin’ some pretty bad survivor’s guilt?”
Griffin nodded. “Yeah. Otherwise, things feel good between us. They feel right. But I don’t think I’m imagining these moments where I half feel like she’s overwhelmed and about to bolt, or where her eyes suddenly have this hollow look, but then she blinks it away and says it’s nothing. So I’m trying really hard not to push.”
Kyler released a breath and sat back against the couch. “And how are you feeling? About the fact that she enlisted after you two broke up?”
After you rejected her. That wasn’t what Kyler said, but it was what Griffin heard. He was still struggling not to think of it that way. That his rejection led to her getting hurt so catastrophically. God, what if she had died?
He couldn’t even think about it because it made him want to puke everything he’d just eaten. “Like fucking shit,” Griffin bit out in a low breath.
“So you two are both shouldering guilt for different reasons,” Kyler said. “Just keep the communication open, man. You’re going to need it until you ride all that out.”
“Yeah,” he said.
“You know it’s not your fault though, right?” Quinton asked. “That Kenna got hurt? Just like it sure as hell wasn’t her fault that people got killed by that IED. Right?”
“Sometimes knowing isn’t the same as believing it,” Kyler said, eyeing him with perceptively. “But Quinton’s right.”
“I hear you. And she gets it, too. But, yeah,” Griffin said.
“Here they come.” Quinton jutted his chin to indicate behind Griffin, and then the ladies were back. Mia carried the pitcher and Kenna had a tray with cold, frosty glasses, her juice, and a plate of cookies.
“I couldn’t resist,” she said, grabbing the one with the most chocolate chips and sitting beside him again.
His friends’ advice ringing in his ears, Griffin leaned in and pressed a kiss to Kenna’s temple. “I like when you can’t resist things, little one.”
The blush that rose on her cheeks was fucking beautiful, and filled him with a masculine satisfaction that heated his very blood. And it was just one more thing that made him sure of what he wanted.
And that it was her.
***
Kenna woke up early Tuesday morning in Griffin’s arms.
It was an amazing feeling, not being alone after so long. And not being in pain every single day, too. She still had pain—his cock was amazing but not magical, after all. But she had definitely been feeling better for the past week or two. Maybe it was all the orgasms and endorphins. Maybe it was the high of subspace that she’d achieved again and again. Maybe it was the way that bondage provided her with such soul-deep comfort, almost like what swaddling provided to a babe. Or maybe it was not being alone with her thoughts, fears, and memories all the time. Having something else to think about—and to fill her time—definitely seemed to be good for her.
And though she’d spent most of her time with Griffin these past nearly two weeks, he wasn’t the only one filling her calendar. She’d seen her sister twice since that day she’d spilled everything at her kitchen table, and on Sunday afternoon, she’d gone to Sierra’s house for an early dinner with her whole little family.
Man, Kenna was so filled with a sense of belonging right now that she could’ve cried. And Griffin was such a big part of that. It made her realize how strong her feelings still were for him, and that she’d never truly gotten over him. Maybe it’s what you did—what you had to do—when your heart couldn’t have who it wanted, but Kenna knew for sure that she’d been fooling herself all these years.
Which was why a part of her couldn’t stop hanging on to all that guilt. Because Georgia could never have any of this. Not anymore. And though she’d heard what Griffin said, and her brain knew that he was right, her heart still hurt so bad sometimes that it felt like she was suffocating.
How am I going to face George’s mom?
Queasiness rolled through her.
Kenna was scheduled to fly down Friday afternoon and return Sunday morning. And even though her belly tossed and her chest felt too tight and her mind wouldn’t stop generating excuses as to why she should put it off, she needed to do this. Finally. For Georgia, for her friend’s mother, and for herself.
The only saving grace was that her week was busy leading up to her departure—with a speech tonight, dinner with her sister tomorrow night, and a practice demonstration scene with Griffin on Thursday night—a practice for her first public demonstration since they’d gotten back together. And since she’d lost her arm. Putting herself out there like that was one thing—exciting but also nerve-wracking, but doing it when she knew people would be looking at her prosthetic was adding another layer of anxiety to what she was already feeling about facing George’s mom.
Still, she was determined to do it. For Griffin. And for herself—because she wanted to feel strong and confident again. Just once.
Griffin’s arm squeezed around her belly, pulling her in tight against his waking cock. “What are you thinking about so hard over there?” he said in a sexy, graveled voice.
Kenna chuckled. “How busy this week is going to be,” she said softly. The truth, even if it wasn’t the whole of it.
“If by busy you don’t mean spending every day in my arms and my rope, I protest,” he said, kissing the back of her neck.
She peered over her shoulder at him. “I wish.”
He waggled his eyebrows. “Well, lucky you, I specialize in making those particular dreams come true.”
Laughing, Kenna shook her head. “I know you do, Sir.”
“Mmm. Call me Sir one more time.” He kissed the muscle that connected her neck to her shoulder, and then he bit her there.
Kenna moaned and writhed, loving bites on her neck and shoulders, which the sexy bastard knew. “Yes, Sir.”
She quickly found herself face down on the bed, restrained by his weight as he laid himself on top of her and took her from behind. Hard and fast and so damn good.
Griffin came with a shout that beckoned her own orgasm, and then they laid together, sweaty and sated.
“Damn, baby,” he said, kissing her shoulder. “I can’t get enough of you.”
“You don’t hear me complaining,” she said, smiling.
He chuckled. “No I don’t.” He helped her up from the mattress and pulled her into his arms. “Shower with me?”
Kenna nodded, loving the way he always wanted to take care of her. Loving so much about him.
He warmed the water and then guided her in, letting her have the best place under the falling stream. “Remind me what’s on your schedule.”
As she washed her hair with one hand—something she’d gotten pretty good at—and he washed her body, she detailed her week.
“Hmm,” he said. “This week is going to send me into withdraw.”
Kenna chuckled, but she felt the same way. And then she had a thought—one that was maybe scary and crazy, given how little time had passed since they’d gotten back together again. But that didn’t stop the suggestion from spilling from her lips. “You could come to dinner with me and my sister tomorrow night. If you want?”
His dark eyes flashed to hers. “Really? I’d
love that. I’d really like to meet her.”
Satisfaction rolled through her at his genuine enthusiasm. Everything about Griffin’s behavior and words these past weeks had indicated that he was in this for good this time. For keeps. And that both lifted her up and tugged on all those nagging, lingering threads of guilt inside her. “Good. It’s a date.” She rinsed off her body and traded him places.
“You know what I was going to ask?” he said, a sheepishness about him that made her curious. He ducked his head under the spray. Her shower was much smaller than his, and he barely fit in it. But they hadn’t spent much time at his place yet, in part because they’d fallen into a routine of coming here, and in part because Kenna was a little worried that there were too many memories of the old them at his place to confront. At least just yet.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“I was going to ask if I could come to your event tonight? To hear you speak.” He wiped water from his eyes and nailed her with a stare.
“Oh. Really?” Her belly went on a little loop-to-loop. Tonight’s talk was at wounded veterans’ organizational dinner in D.C., but bringing Griffin shouldn’t pose a problem.
He grasped her hand. “I don’t have to if it would make you uncomfortable, Kenna. I’d just like to support you.”
When he put it like that... “Okay. I’d like that,” she said, and it was true even though it made her more nervous than she usually was. “I’ll call and let them know I’m bringing someone.”
“Good,” he said.
Hours later, Kenna approached the podium at the fancy dinner with Griffin’s whispered encouragement ringing in her ears. Go kick some ass, little one.
And she felt like she could. Griffin believing in her made it easier to believe in herself. But it was a funny thing, the way her mind wanted to twist all those good feelings. Because the better she felt—the less like a fraud as she stood in front of this roomful of men and women who’d been wounded during their service, just like her—the guiltier she felt that George couldn’t experience this, too.
It was so damn unfair.
For all of them.
