by Lynda Aicher
He was waiting on her. Again.
It was then she noticed the utter quiet surrounding her. Over the roar of blood and her pounding heart, she heard nothing. The background noises of earlier—the moans, whimpers, whip cracks, hand-slaps—were all gone. Why?
Inhaling one deep, courage-gathering breath, Cali opened her eyes. Immediately she started to shake, the chains clanking in an ominous rattle through the silent room. Panic engulfed her. Her skin chilled and her breath stuttered in and out of her lungs in shaky waves.
“Easy, Cali.” Jake’s voice. In her ear. Low, calm. His warm touch on her cheek. Grounding her. “Look at them. At their faces.”
Look at them. At the sea of people who seemed to be closing in on her until she couldn’t breathe. The faces blurred. She didn’t want to see them. Row upon row of scorn. Why would she want to see that?
“Do you see the respect?”
Respect? The word cut through the chaos cluttering her mind.
“The admiration?”
Admiration? How? She blinked, the faces taking form before her.
“The envy?”
Envy? Her? She blinked again, one long squeeze of her eyes guaranteeing she’d see straight when they opened. A low, stunned breath escaped her gaping mouth at what she saw.
“Reverence. Desire. All for you.”
And it was there. Every word Jake said was etched into the faces staring at her. Cali’s gaze darted from one face to the next, searching for the truth, unable to believe what she saw. But it was all the same—men and women, Doms and submissives—it didn’t matter. Every face showed nothing but...acceptance.
Understanding.
Not a single face showed even a hint of judgment, or scorn, or ridicule, or pity, or any of the negative thoughts that had consumed her for so, so long.
“Tell me. Do you see it? Do you see what we see? What I see?” It was the slight hitch of Jake’s voice on the last question that broke her.
The first jagged sob lurched from her gut in a gasp for freedom. The strangled noise cut into the silence with harsh cords of anguish. Oh, God. It really wasn’t her fault. There was nothing wrong with her.
“Yes,” she whispered with the next bubble of breath, the admission almost lost in the warble of her voice. They saw her. Her mind rallied around that one clear thought. They saw her. Her. Jake saw her. And they still respected her.
They understood her.
They didn’t judge her.
They wanted her. Jake wanted her.
Oh, God. Frantic, desperate, she jerked her head, seeking him. Seeking confirmation. “Jake,” she choked out.
And he was there. Before her. Blocking out everyone and everything but him. The honesty and truth of everything he’d said blazing in his silver eyes. His touch the connection she needed.
“Yes,” she said stronger, the tears trailing down her cheeks. “Yes. Yes. Yes.” Each repetition of the word got stronger with her belief. “Jake.” His name came out in a plea. She stretched toward him, begging for strength. For his arms to hold her.
Support her.
“You’re so brave,” he whispered, lips grazing hers in a teasing caress right before his jaw clenched and he took a brisk step away.
The loss of his heat chilled her, but she trusted him. Needed him.
“Marcus.”
She jerked against the curtness in his tone.
“This sub needs relief. Can you assist me?”
Cali was too shocked to react. What did he mean? Her gaze shot from Jake to the tall, black-haired Dom she recognized from her first night at The Den. His dark, almost black eyes assessed her, a slow smile spreading across his lips.
“With pleasure, Master Jake,” he said, stepping forward. “She’s a beauty.” His gaze traveled over her, leaving a cold trail in its wake. Cali shivered, searching for Jake’s eyes as the other man asked, “What would you like me to do?”
“Lick her pussy,” Jake bit out. “Tell me how good she tastes.”
She tried to withhold the flinch, the instant reaction to flee. Jakes eyes narrowed, his features turning stony as he caught her movement. Of course she couldn’t run, but could she do this? Let this other man intimately touch her here? In front of everyone—in front of him?
She wanted to ask him why. What was he doing? Did she anger him? Displease him? Disgust him? Was this her punishment for resisting earlier? They’d never talked about this.
About sharing her.
Marcus dropped to his knees, stroking her legs in a slow caress starting at her ankles. She looked down; she had to. Her eyes widened at the unfamiliar sight, the long, straight hair so different from Jake’s. His touch was firmer, his palms smooth, not course and callused like Jake’s.
She reminded herself that Jake wanted this. She was pleasing him in allowing this man to touch her. That thought alone had her body responding. For whatever reason, he wanted another man to pleasure her. Her muscles relaxed, the tension ebbing from her as she let go of the doubt. Warm breath brushed over her wet pussy, forcing a sigh to slip from her lips.
She lifted her head to find Jake, but his focus was locked on the other man. His lips were thinned in a grimace, his eyes smoldering with what seemed like rage. His arms were crossed tightly against his chest, his stance unbending. He appeared anything but pleased.
“Stop.”
The harsh command rang through the room. Marcus froze, withdrawing his hands from her. Cali tensed.
Jake stepped forward, every movement a show of extreme control. Slow, firm, calculated.
Marcus eased back then stood, his focus on Jake. “Certainly, Master Jake.” He moved away without another word.
Cali couldn’t look at the other people still there. She could feel their attention, the silence stretching as everyone watched the Scene. Watched her and Jake. The air was filled with a strain that pushed at her and enveloped her in expectation.
Jake dropped to his knees. Her stomach muscles clenched against the sensation of his tongue as he traced the blazing lines of red patterns across her skin. She could do nothing but watch as he followed a path down to her pussy. Thoughts of anyone else in the room were gone.
At that moment, Jake was the only one who existed in her world.
Her eyes focused on the silky black strands of hair, the familiar curled ends wet with perspiration. His rough hands held her firm at the hips, fingers digging into her flesh and holding her still. The tip of his pink tongue flicked in and out of his mouth, leaving a trail of cooling moisture that sizzled against the fire of her skin.
She was on the edge, her body and mind both perched in expectation of the next touch. Of satisfying the cleansing need for release. She whimpered, uncaring of how she sounded. Uncaring of anything but the relief only he could give.
“Please, Jake,” she begged, just like he said she would.
His gazed flashed up to meet hers. “You’ve earned this.” The pride was openly displayed for her to see. And with it, all of the other emotions he spoke of. Acceptance, reverence, admiration, desire and something she didn’t dare hope for.
He covered her pussy with his mouth in a sudden ferocity that shocked her. She gasped at the heat, the hot pulse of his tongue over her engorged and needy clit, the nip of teeth on the delicate flesh. He stretched his hands up to pinch her hypersensitive nipples.
“Jake,” she pleaded, holding tight in anticipation, in the fight to retain the release threatening to tumble out of her.
Through the fog clouding her brain, she heard the words she needed. “Come for me, Cali.”
And she did. Her muscles clenched, sound escaped her mouth, but she wasn’t aware of what she said. Her world imploded, wave after wave of ecstasy rippling through her in a mind-numbing, full-body orgasm.
Her arms screamed in protest as she pulled them past their limits. Already aching and tired from their extended position held outstretched and over her head, the muscles quivered then gave out. Her body sagged and dropped like dead weight
as the rest of her muscles followed suit and refused to work. Vaguely she was aware of the scrape of the leather against her wrists, the two points now responsible for holding her up. Then it was gone.
Strong arms circled her. She inhaled, her senses logging the subtle masculine scent of Jake. He had her. She was safe.
It was too much work to open her eyes. She didn’t need to see to know Jake had her. The whimper that escaped her lips barely registered as the pinpricks of tingling pain coursed up her arms when her wrists were freed. Then hands were there, rubbing and kneading the muscles until the circulation returned and the ache eased.
And the whole time she could think of nothing but the strong chest she huddled against. Of the arms that circled her, holding her tight.
“You’re okay, babe. I’ve got you.”
He got her. In more way than anyone else ever had.
She exhaled, the one long breath releasing the last of her doubts. The last of her reservations. But most importantly, that breath expelled the last of the self-recriminations that had plagued her for so many years.
Finally, for the first time in forever, she felt cleansed. Free.
In Jake’s arms.
Chapter Twenty
He held her. His exceptional sub who trusted him enough to bare and purge her deepest shame to a crowd of strangers. Who let another Dom touch her because Jake ordered it.
His chest ached, the odd rush of longing nearly taking him to his knees. He clutched Cali closer. She was curled in an almost fetal position against him as he cradled her limp form to his.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered again into her ear, nuzzling the skin of her neck. The light, salty taste from her lingering perspiration a flavor he’d come to crave.
She mumbled a response, but coherent words had not returned to her. Did she understand how much his words meant? How much her complete submission, her trust, filled him?
He could barely comprehend it, so how could she?
One of the Dungeon Masters brought a robe and slipped it over her shoulders. Jake adjusted his hold until the material provided a modest covering and a layer of warmth.
“She’s a treasure, Master Jake. Truly exceptional.”
Jake gave him a stiff nod. She was.
“Should I have her clothes delivered to a room?”
“My loft.” Jake’s reply was met with only the slightest raising of eyebrows. The crowd had dispersed when the Scene ended, so his answer was for the Dungeon Master alone. If the man valued his job, that tidbit of information would not be shared.
“I’ll deliver them myself,” he answered before returning to his duties.
Jake moved from the room, Cali bundled in his arms, trusting him completely. A few people watched as he departed.
“She’s amazing, Master Jake,” one Dom praised as Jake passed. Others nodded in agreement. He caught the longing that lingered in the eyes of more than a few Doms and subs, admiration clear on every face. He clutched Cali closer.
At the edge of the room his gaze caught and held on Seth and Deklan. The two men stood side by side, watching him, a look of knowing in on their faces. Jake refused to acknowledge them or the question silently conveyed across the space.
He looked away, his focus on his sub. His sub. Cali was more than just his sub. He’d proven that tonight. Exactly the opposite of what he’d set out to do. Fuck. He was so incredibly fucked.
Could he do it? Could he take the risk and do what his heart so strangely and desperately wanted him to do? He’d had a collar made on a fool’s whim, one he hadn’t planned on fulfilling. But after tonight, after Marcus...fuck.
Jake pushed back the flash of jealousy as he juggled his hold, eventually getting the door to his loft open. Cali’s breathing had returned to a more normal level, but she remained impassive in his arms. He sat on the edge of the Jacuzzi tub in his master bath, settled her onto his lap and turned on the taps. She roused at the sound of the rushing water.
“Whatcha doing?” she mumbled against his collar.
He smiled. Her voice was so soft and trusting. Even after the mind-fuck he’d put her through. Even after Marcus. He dropped a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m taking care of you.”
Her hum of approval was reinforced by her snuggling closer. His cock ached. His hard-on hadn’t subsided since he’d seen her standing in the office decked out in the outfit he’d bought her. But it wasn’t important. Denial of his own needs was all a part of being a Dom. Right now his submissive needed his care, not his dick.
He tested the water, made a few adjustments and reached over to pour a small amount of vanilla-scented bath oil into the water. Another luxury bought on a whim for her. Soon, the calming aroma filled the rapidly heating room.
“Cali.” Jake nudged her, holding her arms to keep her from falling. “The water’s ready.”
She opened her eyes, her lids only raising part of the way. She gave him a sultry, tired glance before she curled her lips in a lazy smile. “I don’t think I can stay coherent enough for a bath.” She chuckled. “I’ll probably drown.”
He stroked her cheek before shifting her around until she was propped against the wall. “Then sit here while I undress.”
Her eyebrows lifted and her smile grew. “I like the way you think.”
A few minutes later they were both sinking into the warmth of the steaming bath. Her low moan of approval rippled through him as he held her against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her waist and she relaxed into his hold. She sighed, a deep sound of contentment.
“I agree,” he said, relaxing into her as well.
He let her rest for a while, content to just hold her. To take care of her. The warm water would soothe her muscles and temper the sting from the flogging. He’d used a flogger with stiffer strips that left a sharper impact and a heightened the intensity to get Cali past her fears. To take her mind away from what she was thinking and back to the basics of what she was feeling.
After a while, he shifted her in his arms until he could see her face. Wisps of her hair had fallen from the fancy ponytail she’d constructed, curling around her face in damp spirals. He lowered his lips to her ear and nipped at the shell before he said, “Tell me about it.”
She stiffened, just a second, before once again relaxing against him. “Is this my Dom ordering me or my lover asking me?”
He gave a soft snort. Trust her to still question him. “Both. It’s time to let it go.”
“I thought that’s what earlier was about.”
“It was. Think of it as the release of the pressure valve. Now the rest needs to escape and be banished for good. All of that withheld emotion doesn’t go away that fast or easily.”
She sighed. “I don’t know if I can. I’ve never talked about it with anyone before.”
“Just talk. Pretend I’m not here and talk it out of you. Admit to your feelings and then let them go.”
“Are you my therapist now too?” she asked with a smirk.
“No. I’m your friend. Someone you can trust to confide in.”
She searched his eyes before she finally conceded, her voice low and hesitant. “I honestly thought I’d dealt with all of these feelings long ago. Accepted the issue was his, not mine, and moved on. But obviously I haven’t.”
“When did it start?”
She puffed out a short breath. “Basically, before we even married. Our sex life was never great, never wild or frequent even when we were in college, before kids.” She looked away. “I told myself then it didn’t matter. That the relationship we had was better than great sex. That I was lucky to have a loving husband, a good life, with someone I could talk to and who supported me. And it was fine for a while.”
She paused, her fingers lifting to push distractedly at the water. She watched the ripples ring outward before she continued. “Eventually the neglect hurt. Many, many times I tried talking to him about it. Tried to come up with suggestions or ways to make him feel better, to work it out. Inevitably he
would twist it around, and somehow it was my fault. I was too bitchy. I was too busy with the kids. I didn’t respond to him. I, I, I...until it was just easier to let it go. To live without and take care of my own needs.” She exhaled a defeated breath. “The longer I lived without, the less I tried, the less he touched me, the less we connected until we eventually coexisted, raising our kids like two friends living together. Not two lovers sharing their lives together. When the kids were both in college, there nothing left for us to hang on to. There was nothing left for just the two of us.”
Jake stroked her arm but remained quiet. He couldn’t believe a man would reject her. What an ass. The guy had no idea what he’d missed out on.
“Do you know what the worst part is?” she asked, tilting her head to look at him. He gave a small head shake in reply. “The world assumes it’s my fault. After all, society teaches us all men want and think about is sex. So if sex isn’t happening in a marriage, then it’s the woman who’s at fault. With all of those stereotypes, how do you admit it’s your husband who doesn’t want you? Even then, it’s still the woman’s fault. It must be something she did to turn him off.”
He rested a palm on her cheek. “It’s not your fault. I thought we covered that downstairs.”
She chuckled. “Yeah, we did. And I get that. Logically. But emotionally, it’s taking longer to sink in.” She quirked her lips up in a devious smile. “But I think it’s been beaten into me now.”
He leaned down and kissed her, a light touch of caring. “I wanted you to see what everyone here sees.” He searched her face. “Was this need—the Dom/sub desire—a reason for your sexual problems with your husband?”
“No.” She laughed and shook her head. “Well, maybe. Unknowingly.” She sighed again. “I’d always wanted him to take control in the bedroom. The more he didn’t, the more I wanted him to. He let me, almost made me by default, control every other aspect of our marriage. Couldn’t he control one simple thing like sex?” The question was filled with the frustration she spoke of. She took a deep breath, the inner struggle clear on her face.
