Soul Rest

by Joey W. Hill

  "So you don't want to have sex with me."

  His chuckle put her back up, but when she shot a glance his way, she found she wasn't the only one with expressive eyes. His gaze told her his answer to that, even before he spoke.

  "That's a no-brainer. If it wouldn't get us arrested, I'd bend you over this table and fuck you until you screamed for mercy. My cock hasn't settled since I made you come on my couch. But that's the thing, Celeste. Fucking's easy. You don't look like the type of girl who denies yourself the chance to scratch an itch, because that's functional, cause and effect, no thought required. I expect you've had a couple fuck buddies along the way."

  "I'm a pain in the ass and a slut?" She started to get up. His hand returned to her shoulder, his grip strong enough to keep her in place.

  "You're not stomping off again," he said quietly. "And no, that's not what I meant. This isn't high school. What a consenting adult does to get through the lonely hours of the night is what we do. No harm, no foul."

  She thought she might grind a full layer off her teeth before the night was over. "So what is it you want, Leland?"

  He considered her. "I can make a woman's cunt wet and fuck her to climax. That's mechanics. When you give me every ounce of who and what you are, because you trust me with all of it, that's the real prize. It isn't easy," he added. "Fears get in the way of need, and you tangle yourself up in all of that, so you can't tell me how to find you. And you won't trust someone to figure it out for you. With you."

  She was all too aware of where he'd shifted from third person to directly referring to her. He could have chosen to be less targeted, but he'd said he was honest. Hearing it aloud still bugged her. She really did want to leave now, but as if he sensed that, he hadn't let go of her. "Sounds like I'm a lost cause."

  "No. Not at all. I'm just telling you you're in for a bumpy ride. Accepting how a Master is going to touch you, handle you, in order to learn everything about you, inside and out, isn't easy for a sub like you." His gaze slid back up to hers, held. "It kind of stirs me up, thinking how tough I'm going to have to be with you."

  His expression sent a little quiver through her belly, but she managed to sound dismissive. "That's your thing? Getting rough with a woman? That's why you're looking for someone who will be a pain in your ass?"

  His flash of a grin was a sensual threat. "Yeah. To keep me occupied until the sub I really want comes along. A docile little thing who keeps my house clean, sucks my dick on command and calls me sir."

  "If you think that I--" she started, and then shut her mouth at the dancing light in his eyes. "Jerk," she muttered, but he'd made her smile. "Asshole," she added for good measure.

  He squeezed her shoulder, then removed his hand. "You can bolt now if you want. But I'd prefer it if you stayed."

  She returned her gaze to the colorful carousel. Around and around, the horses going up and down. She'd made up that rhyme the first time she'd come here as a college student. "You looked up my work history."

  "Through the Internet, not through the police database."

  "Good. So you don't know about my juvie record as a chronic Toys R Us shoplifter."

  "I'll lock up my train sets and Star Wars action figures."

  "I only go for Barbie stuff. Especially her shoe collection."

  "I keep those in a safe deposit box," he said gravely. "So why did you leave the New Orleans paper?"

  She was on safer ground with that and wondered if he knew it. Either way, she'd take that road in a heartbeat to get away from the less comfortable responses he was eliciting from her. "I had an opportunity to move from social business over into the crime beat. I thought it was going to be so different. Then I found out it was all about ratings and stirring up people's emotions by leaving out key facts. It wasn't about journalism anymore, giving people all the pertinent information so they could make their own informed decisions about their lives and community. It was about creating power factions, dissent. When I took the NOLA job, the person who helped me get it said he hoped my editor would appreciate the way I could tell a story. I think now he was warning me."

  "I went to your blog and read some of your stories."

  She glanced over her shoulder at him. She was still sitting on the edge of her chair, though she wanted to be back inside the curve of his arm. Since she wouldn't let herself do that, she turned on her hip so she was facing him. Her shoulder pressed against his forearm stretched out on the chair, a good compromise between her desires and her unwillingness to bend so soon after he'd gotten under her skin. "Thanks. I appreciate that. I did a lot more freelance work at first, until the blog started to get a following, enough that I could sell advertising. Last year, I was ahead on a couple big stories. The papers and networks released on them first, but they had the information wrong, because nowadays they don't investigate. They just do press releases, Twitter feed and people's cell phone videos. When I got it right, it was noticed. Some bloggers, concerned citizen groups, that kind of thing, started mentioning me, and my following has grown. Now I'm doing subscriptions, and people are actually paying to have access to the information."

  She stopped, a little embarrassed. Though she didn't deny her job was the thing about herself that gave her the most pride, going on about it to Leland seemed as if she was trying to prove something.

  "Your articles seem thorough and fair. Just like Mike told me they were. I'm one of your newest subscribers."

  "I wondered who hotcop@spanksgirls.com was. Now I know."

  "I think that's the chief of police's email address," he said.

  "I'm going to tell him you said that. I've met him a couple times." She laughed as Leland winced. "So someone can intimidate Sergeant Leland Keller. I'll keep that in mind."

  "Not intimidate," he said with dignity. "I just have a healthy respect for the person who decides whether or not I can pay my cable bill. Do you still do freelance?"

  "Nice diversion tactic." But she smiled. "Some. Mainly because I have more control over the stories. The editors who initially cut them to give them the slant they wanted are far more light-handed now. It may sound naive, but I hope it means they might be seeing the benefit of giving people the full story."

  "You obviously take a lot of pride in doing your job right. I respect that, Celeste."

  She allowed herself to glow a bit. It was high praise from a man in a profession that understandably loathed the press like plague-carriers. But then she sniffed, tossed her hair out of her eyes. "You looked pretty sharp yourself Monday morning. Billy nearly wet himself when he thought you were going to chew his ass out for accepting my coffee."

  "That's Officer Johnson to you, and I have a strict limit on making a rookie soil himself. Once a week, tops, and Billy already had his turn this week. I didn't look sharp at the courthouse?"

  She raised a brow. "How did you know I was there? I was very stealthy."

  "Saw your name on the security sign-in sheet, so I was on the lookout for you. Caught you in the corner of my eye. Would have talked to you, but Fielding was about to have a nervous breakdown. I had to be sure the kid understood judges and lawyers put on their pants the same way we do. Though the Gucci shoes lawyers wear are custom fit to cover the cloven hooves. So?" He gave her an expectant look.

  "What?"

  "Did I look just as sharp and irresistible at the courthouse?"

  More so. She rolled her eyes, though. "I never said irresistible."

  "It was implied." He nodded toward the carousel. "So why did you suggest we meet here?"

  "I like it. Most people look at it and don't notice how much is there. On first look, all the color and mirrors, they think it's garish. But when you look more closely, you see how beautiful it is. All the hand-painted details, and the colors are soft, like Easter." She put her hand up over his eyes, suddenly playful. "Tell me three animals it has that you can ride, other than horses."

  "None. I'm way too big."

  "Everyone knows carousel animals are magical creatures.
They're much stronger than they look. A detective wouldn't be dodging the question. He'd be trying to impress me with his recall of detail."

  "Careful now. Those are fighting words." His lips curved under her hand, making her want to nibble on the full lower one. She didn't, but she did lean closer, such that he stilled, telling her he was aware of her breath against his face. He put his hand over hers, removed it, but when he opened his eyes, he looked straight into her eyes, no cheating.

  "A tiger, an ostrich, and..." he frowned. "A rabbit."

  "I love the rabbit. He's one of my favorites. Watch when the tiger goes by, though. See under his saddle? There's an eagle carved under it, or some kind of raptor. And both of the tigers are called Mike, for the LSU mascot of course. Their name is written on them." She pointed. "I never stop finding new things when I watch it turn. See how the camel has a curved knife, like a janbiya on the side? The cat is carrying a fish in his mouth, which you'd expect, but he also has a gold crescent moon painted on his side and a blue sash around his neck. The pig has a pink bow, because pigs always seem to wear pink. It's like whoever created it had a vision into a child's dream, where everything is whimsical, surprising, but it fits, too. Random but not."

  He was watching her with a bemused fascination, and she colored a little as a result.

  "Most women come here to shop."

  "Well." She lifted a shoulder. "I have a limited budget. Chick-fil-A nuggets and watching the carousel works for me."

  "So how many times have you ridden it?"

  She shifted her gaze back to the carousel. "Never."

  "You get nauseous? Afraid of horses?"

  She elbowed him and he curved that arm around her again, squeezing her. "So why haven't you ridden it?"

  She shrugged and he gave her a more thorough look. "You get quiet about the things that matter," he said. "If it just scares you, you shoot your mouth off, try to piss me off."

  "Does it work?"

  "You'll find out." He touched her mouth. "Tell me why you haven't ever ridden it. That's a command, Celeste."

  She had an interest in exploring a Dom/sub thing with him, she didn't deny it, though they hadn't really defined it further than that. Yet when he ordered her, something as simple as giving him information felt much more significant. One small step toward that place where she would want him to demand everything from her. He had dark rings around his golden-brown irises. That made his expression of authority sharper, more direct. More unsettling.

  A ripple of panic went through her, but in contrast, his touch gentled, stroking her lips until they parted. "Don't get smart-mouthed and avoid it. Just tell me, darlin'."

  She made a face at him, but relented. "On the carousel, everyone is with someone or being watched by someone on the ground. I've never had anyone to ride it with...or to watch me ride it. It's isolating. Like being a person in a crowded room that no one can see or hear."

  "So you sit on the sidelines and watch. Which lets you feel more in control of your isolation." He didn't wait for her answer. Instead, he drew her to her feet, handed her the coat she'd folded over the back of the bench. Reaching into his coat pocket, he pulled something out in his closed hand, then put that hand over hers. After he transferred what felt like a ball of vinyl fabric and a couple marbles into her palm, he folded her fingers securely over them.

  "I'm going to go put your leftovers in my truck. While I do that, go to the ladies' room and put this on. I'll meet you back here."

  "What is it?" He wouldn't let her open her hand. Instead he tightened his grip.

  "You said I owed you panties. I brought you some."

  Chapter Four

  She didn't open her hand until she was safely in a bathroom stall. Now she stared at a vinyl thong. What had felt like marbles were two bullet vibrators sewn under the slick material, positioned to stimulate a woman's anus and clit.

  They must be remote-controlled or clap on, clap off, because shaking or pressing didn't result in a reaction. She waited for her mind to tell her no way, no how, but instead it pulled her back to the way her whole body had lifted into his hand when he pinched the muscle in her shoulder. As well as how her pulse had fluttered when he said "That's a command, Celeste."

  She slid out of her leggings and underwear, tucked the latter in the pocket of her coat. The thong had adjustable Velcro fasteners on the sides, helping the bullets fit snugly right where they were supposed to go.

  The idea that he could turn it on at any time, that she'd just given that control to him, should have alarmed her, and it did. But she had another reaction to it as well. As she donned the leggings again and reached inside them to adjust the panties, she couldn't resist sliding her fingers down over her pussy to stroke. Her hips twitched and she had to do it again a few more times, until she was leaning against the side of the stall, hips moving in a coital rhythm.

  God, she was masturbating in a public bathroom stall. Forcing herself to stop, she readjusted her short skirt over the leggings and put the coat over her arm. When she came out of the stall, she bit her lip at the stimulation walking created. It might be easy to know where to position the bullet against a woman's clit, but how had he known which size panty to choose to ensure the other one was firmly against her rim?

  She'd trained herself to think in five parts; who, what, when, where and why--or how--so her mind went straight to the other night, his hands all over her ass, his mouth between her legs.

  She'd have to issue a personal retraction about a man's inability to think while eating.

  Emerging from the bathroom, she discovered him waiting for her. The hallway continued past the men's room and another twenty feet to an emergency exit, and he was leaning against the wall at that end, rather than at the end of the hallway that led back into the mall. When he remained in place, that and his expression told her he wanted her to come to him. As she walked, the bullets were rubbing against clit and rim, arousing her further. It was reflected in a more sinuous body language she couldn't help. Her hips rolled in a pendulum sway, and her nipples were stiff against the thin padding of her bra. A swift glance down confirmed it, but it wasn't necessary. The flare in his eyes as he focused on that area told her the same thing.

  When she reached him, he took her hand, turned them so his body shielded her from the view of the bathrooms. He bent down, and her face was already lifting, her lips parting eagerly. He didn't have to coax her lips open this time. She met him wet heat against wet heat, and when his hand slid beneath the elastic waistbands of her skirt and leggings, he found the bullet and seated it more firmly against her anus. As he was confirming it was placed where he wanted it, his grip pressed her mound against his thigh. If there was any doubt about where that clit bullet was, her gasp into his mouth, the buck of her hips against his hold, rubbing herself against him, verified it. Her hands fell to the waistband of his jeans, hooked there through the folds of his shirt to steady herself. His erection was against her abdomen. She was a blink away from climbing up his body to bring their two sexes together.

  He broke the kiss then, easing her back down to her heels. When she started to push back, wanting more, he shifted his grip to her shoulder, sending another shot of sensation right to her core with that pinch move.

  "You like that, hmm?"

  "I...yes." She drew a shuddering breath, realizing she'd ramped out of control. "I think this is too fast. I don't know what you're planning to do, but--"

  He tipped up her chin. "I'm going to ride the carousel with you, Celeste. When we're done with that, I'm going to take you home. Your home. I'm going to have your sweet ass in your bed, on your kitchen table and then on your couch. Since I plan to take my time with all of that, when I finish, it will probably be time for the late-night sports recap."

  "You're pretty serious about that."

  "I try not to miss it."

  "I don't know if I want you to come to my place."

  "I know. It's hard, letting someone see your personal space. Let's go ride t
he carousel."

  He took her back up the hall, one arm around her back, his hand curved over her hip, stroking. Though he was no longer touching the bullets, wherever he touched her seemed connected to them, currents of sensation running through her like water down her body in the shower.

  The walk to the carousel seemed long. She didn't talk, too aroused to do more than lick her lips and bite back moans. She'd latched onto his side with her other hand and now he lifted it between them, nuzzling her skin. When he brought them to a halt a few feet away from the automated box where they would pay for their ride, he kissed her fingers, his nostrils flaring.

  "Did you play with yourself in the bathroom, Celeste? Did you make yourself come?"

  She flushed, realizing she'd transferred her arousal onto her fingers. "No. I just touched myself for a second."

  "Have you masturbated since you saw me last, darlin'?" His low timbre vibrated through her body, all the way down to those throbbing points. The man could drawl that endearment like a threat. The kind of threat that sent a shiver through a woman and made her want him to carry it out, whatever it was.

  "Yes."

  "How many times?"

  She flushed deeper and would have looked away, but he caught her chin, bent and put his lips over hers, then moved that wicked mouth right up to her ear. "Tell me how many times, Celeste. How many times did you rub your pussy, use your vibrator, fuck yourself with it, thinking about me? About what I'd make you do next time you saw me?"

  "Twice," she lied.

  His arm around her constricted. Setting his teeth below her ear, he bit, teasing her with his tongue. She jerked as the vibrators came to life, humming against her clit and sensitive rim. "I can turn these up and make you come right here," he murmured. "Hard enough you'll have to scream."

  As if to prove it, they hummed at a higher frequency that accelerated her toward that peak. "Stop, please stop," she whispered, frantic. "Leland, please."

  It stopped so abruptly she had to hang on to him for balance. But he was relentless. "The truth, darlin'. How many times, when and where?"