Nature of Desire 8 - Divine solace

by Hill, Joey W.

  She was jerking against him, making little needy noises as he nuzzled her, soothed, brought her down slow. When she eventually released his arm, she dropped her head over the sink as she tried to regain her breath and balance. She was vaguely aware of his hands moving over her. He brought her jeans back up on her hips, zipped and fastened them. Passing his hand over the juncture between her thighs, he pressed down on the outside of the denim, sending a nice vibration of feeling through her, a pleasing finish most men wouldn’t have thought to do. She leaned back against him as he adjusted her bra so the cup he’d disturbed cradled the occupant as intended.

  He was still hard against her backside, and when she moved against him experimentally, he let out a short breath, a huff of a half-laugh. He didn’t seem as though he planned to demand anything for himself. She should offer, shouldn’t she? Yes, she felt like a dishrag, and other uncertain emotions were swirling in her, but fair was fair.

  When she opened her mouth to try for reciprocal courtesy, he spoke first. “I owe you an apology. I exceeded your set time. Five and a half minutes.”

  “I’m still giving you a gold star on your report card.” She gave a weak chuckle, then an edge of despair cut into her. “Oh God, Noah…”

  “Sssh.” He turned her so she could put her cheek against his chest, head tucked under his. “Don’t. It’s just a nice, sunny day, and we’re tiling your kitchen. I know you’re working through stuff. Just let it go for now and feel this moment.”

  She let out a sigh, nodded. “Okay.”

  Chapter Four

  “So…how was your weekend? Did your floor get tiled, so to speak?”

  Gen sent Chloe a look. “Have you worked on that one all weekend?”

  “Oh, no. That’s nowhere near my best stuff.” Chloe nudged her. “Come on, I have to give you some crap, knowing you were spending the weekend with a hot guy. Seriously, how is the floor looking?”

  “He did a great job.” She was delighted with the updated look of the marbleized earth tones that had replaced the dingy white linoleum beneath. “He said he’ll come back if I want and paint the walls. I think he figured out I hate painting.”

  “Yeah, Noah’s crazy intuitive. I told him he should join the circus as one of those fortune tellers. The ones who don’t really have any psychic ability, but are good at reading tells. Of course, that would be a waste of his best skills.” Chloe bounced her eyebrows, pure lecherous insinuation.

  “And what would you know about those?” Gen tried to keep her tone just as teasing. She was not going to get possessive about the guy who’d been loaned to her by a Mistress for a weekend.

  She’d told him she’d drop him off at the marina Sunday morning. He had an adult class to teach that day, and Lyda would be picking him up from there. He’d agreed, but offered to drive. She’d taken him up on that, as it gave her the opportunity to stare at him and wonder if the last two days had been an odd dream.

  Despite the temptation of that embrace in her kitchen, she hadn’t orchestrated a repeat of Friday night with him. Instead she’d closed her door and taken a couple of sleep aids to be sure she didn’t get restless in the middle of the night and do anything regrettable. Fortunately, Saturday’s exertions—tilework and an orgasm way off the charts, unlike anything she’d experienced—had helped get her to sleep.

  When he pulled into a parking space at the marina, she’d exited on her side, circling around the bumper, ready to take his place behind the wheel. She found herself self-conscious before the knot of students waiting for him close by. Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, she wondered if this was the kind of farewell that involved kisses. Probably just a hug and buss on the cheek. That was okay. A hug would let her be close to his firm body once more.

  He’d held open the door for her so she could slip in behind the wheel. When he closed it, he squatted and crossed his forearms on the open window. “Come to the club next weekend,” he said. “Saturday night. Chloe and Marguerite won’t be there, if you’re worried about that. Lyda will put you down for a guest membership and I’ll meet you at the door. You can just watch, and you can leave whenever you want.”

  “Will Lyda be there?”

  “Yes. She wants to get to know you better as well. And you can see the wildlife in their natural environment.” When she gave a half-laugh at that, he touched her arm. “Come be with us, Gen. I promise you won’t be pressured in any way. We respect caution.”

  She looked down at the connection between their bodies. “If I decide to come, it would probably be at eight.”

  “Ok. Don’t talk yourself out of it. I’ll wait at the door from eight to nine, but even if you come later, all you have to do is ask for me up front and I’ll come. We’re usually there for a good four hours.”

  She studied the way his forearms overlapped. “You should head for your class. It starts in five minutes.”

  He touched her chin, but she wouldn’t look up. She hadn’t kissed him this weekend, she realized. Nor had he pushed that agenda. She found she wanted to taste his lips. But that was way too intimate. The things crowding into her head right now, into her heart, might explode wide open. “I need to go,” she said.

  His touch withdrew. “All right. I really had a good time this weekend. Thanks for having me.”

  “Anytime you want to spend a weekend slaving away over home improvement projects, feel free.”

  He didn’t laugh at the weak joke, though he might have smiled. She didn’t know, because she kept her head down. He gave her hair a quick stroke.

  “Please come this weekend, Gen. I’d like to see you again.”

  She gave an ambiguous nod. One more light touch, and then he was gone. Lifting her head, she watched him stride away. Some of the students met up with him, started talking. Because of that, as he walked toward the docks, she was able to watch him undisturbed until he passed out of sight. As well as hold onto the sincere urgency in his voice and regret the trace of hurt there she knew she’d caused.

  She was a bitch. But her trip down a path less travelled should probably end with this weekend. Her “safe” dose of Noah had been enough to fry her circuits. She should have asked him for a cell number, but she hadn’t noticed him carrying a phone, an unusual thing for anyone these days. She could always call the nursery and leave a message that she wasn’t coming. If that’s what she decided to do.

  She tuned back into the present at Tea Leaves. She was already missing him, which was a crazy schoolgirl feeling she hadn’t had…well, since she was a schoolgirl.

  Chloe had brought one of her fresh pound cakes this morning, as well as strawberry preserves made from the fruits of her garden. When she and Brendan married, they’d decided to give up Brendan’s apartment and stay in the house Chloe was renting. They were now on a lease-to-own plan. In a rural area outside Tampa, the run-down cottage surrounded by a wild tangle of nature had always been a good fit for Chloe. Brendan meshed with it the way he meshed with Chloe herself.

  That couldn’t be as simple as it appeared. How had Chloe, not a Mistress per Noah’s description, made it work with a male who was as devoted to the submissive role as Noah himself? She thought of how Noah had adapted to her this weekend. True, it was a limited interaction, and she certainly wasn’t a Mistress of Lyda’s caliber—she didn’t think of herself as a Mistress at all. Yet taking the lead with him had felt so…refreshing. If that was how it worked with Chloe, was that enough for Brendan, or was there more to it?

  It didn’t really matter, did it? Why was she even thinking about it?

  “Earth to Gen…”

  Chloe was standing at her side. Her coworker was switching out the teas Gen had put in the brewer, because she’d been about to make the wrong flavor for the morning special. Though Chloe had her trying moments, far more often she picked up on Gen’s moods perfectly, like now. Chloe squeezed her hand. “Want some pound cake for breakfast?”

  “Love some.” They still had about fifteen minutes before opening and ever
ything was ready. Marguerite was in early today, but currently on the phone in her office. Chloe had already parked a piece of the cake at her elbow, along with a cup of Marguerite’s preferred morning brew. Now Chloe snagged herself a fork and she and Gen shared a piece while leaning against either side of the counter, something they’d done often enough it was a foregone conclusion they’d split the calories.

  It was a good reminder of why Gen felt so accepted here. She shouldn’t be doing anything to rock that boat, but that missing-Noah feeling was putting pressure beneath her ribs, making her stomach all swirly.

  She should have kissed him. He would have kissed her if she’d lifted her head. Since she’d denied herself that, she’d let herself indulge some idle curiosity along with the pound cake.

  “So what do you think is his best skill? I’m just wanting to know some more about him,” she qualified. “About…that side of him.”

  “At the club, we call him the Pussy Whisperer.”

  Gen choked, set down her fork. “What?”

  “Thought that would get you to lighten up.” Chloe pressed the tines of her fork against the top of Gen’s hand, a gentle tease. “But it is true. Mind you, I haven’t experienced it directly. Brendan would absolutely flip.”

  Chloe beamed at her absent husband’s possessiveness. “At first, he tried to be the way he was with other Mistresses before me. Like whatever, whoever I wanted, it was all the same to him, but he left that bullshit behind pretty fast. Especially when I made it clear it hurt my feelings, him thinking it was okay for me to be with other guys. Even if it was a club sub in a structured session. Sometimes it’s how things go both ways in a relationship that locks it in, makes it a stronger bond, if that makes sense.”

  It did, but Gen’s focus was on one particular submissive. “Do a lot of them have that kind of arrangement? Multiple partners? Are Lyda and Noah that way?”

  Noah had made it clear that Lyda’s decision to share him with Gen, without Lyda present, wasn’t their usual thing. So it wasn’t really the same as a completely open relationship. Did they call it a relationship at all?

  “Not really. Before Lyda took temporary ownership of him, Noah was picked up by different Mistresses for sessions. But it’s been only him and her for a few months now.”

  “Hmm.” Gen stole a quick look at Marguerite. Their boss was still on the phone. “So how did he get his nickname?”

  “Can’t say it, can you? Pussy. Puuusssy…” Chloe fenced forks with Gen and Gen stabbed the last bite of cake in retaliation. “Say it. Here, kitty, kitty…”

  “Stop it. Tell me.”

  “If you say it.”

  “I won’t.” Gen studiously scraped together the crumbs on the plate, then sighed as Chloe wet her finger and pressed them against the pile of crumbs, popping the finger in her mouth.

  “Oh, fine. Pussywhisperer.” Gen said it fast, mashing the words together.

  “Close enough. Noah has this weird inner focus thing. All the Mistresses—as well as the subs they’ve had him play with—say he touches a woman like he’s listening to something inside of her, figuring out what works uniquely for her. It’s not just about him getting to touch a woman’s naughty bits, which is of course where most guys screw up. You know how they are.”

  “Like babies with new toys,” Gen said dryly. “They gurgle, drool and grope, forgetting that what they’re squeezing is actually attached to sensitive nerve endings.”

  “Exactly. Brendan says Noah recognizes a woman’s body is an orchestra and when he touches her, he finds the perfect soundtrack for her.”

  It was an entirely accurate description. In those five moments at her sink, Noah had let her body lead him, her gyrations and tiny jerks guiding his fingers. No. Deeper than that. He’d understood her unique emotional grid and matched it to what she needed physically. And he’d used that to take her to that amazing orgasm. The man was scary good. Just thinking about it made her warmer.

  Chloe was watching her face. “Okay, if I didn’t have my own maestro to have and to hold forever, I’d be feeling pretty damn jealous. He really did tile your floor.”

  “No, not like that. He did some things.”

  “Noah is very good at doing things.”

  Gen found herself grinning at her coworker. She flicked Chloe’s arm. “You twit.” But she felt comfortable enough now to ask more questions. “What do you mean, temporary ownership?”

  “There are times a Dom and sub might hook up exclusively for a while. It’s similar to being in a vanilla relationship, seeing where it takes you, but they might put in place more structured stipulations that keep it from being as uncharted as a relationship. I don’t know if Lyda and Noah have any of that, but I do know they’ve been together as an exclusive item for a few months. At first she’d play with him with other Mistresses, but over time, she’s even eased back from that.”

  Which matched what Noah had told her. Not that she’d doubted his honesty, or was in deep enough with him to trigger her trust issues, but it was always good to hear a corroborated story.

  “When Noah first came here from New Orleans, Tyler was watching over him. Not in a sex way, of course, but you could tell Noah reported to him.”

  Gen’s brow furrowed. “Are subs controlled by a Dom at all times?”

  “No.” An uncomfortable look crossed Chloe’s face, and she glanced toward Marguerite. Their boss was off the phone and working on her laptop. Marguerite wasn’t a big talker, but when she wasn’t on the phone, she didn’t miss a word of their conversations, even if it appeared she was otherwise occupied. Sometimes she’d insert a comment while Gen and Chloe chatted. It was another familiar ritual.

  “I’m wondering if she should talk to Lyda about him, M. I’m not sure what’s okay to say or not.”

  Marguerite lifted her attention from her keyboard, her pale-blue eyes meeting Chloe’s with her unblinking regard. Gen looked between them. “What am I missing?”

  “It’s hard to explain.” Chloe collected residual strawberry preserves off the rim of the open jar with a spoon and tasted it. “Most submissives go to work, watch TV at night, whatever. They let the sub side come out in the club or maybe in other structured ways with their significant others, like me and Brendan, but they’re still really sort of like everyone else. They run their own lives. Then there are those like Noah. He’s…fully subservient. I don’t know if that’s the right term to use or not.”

  “It’s accurate, to a point,” Marguerite said. “Noah is very independent in some ways, Gen. I’m sure you’ve experienced his self-determined side.”

  Gen had a hard time not flushing at that. Marguerite didn’t miss the reaction, but she didn’t remark on it, thankfully. “In other ways,” she continued, “Noah requires protection. He has no use for money. Everything that belongs to him is in that duffle he carries. I expect he has a couple sets of clothes so that, when and if a Domme releases him, he can take his leave with more than the clothes on his back. However, whatever his Domme chooses to purchase for him he views as her property. Much like himself. Even if she’s buying those items with the money he turns over to her.”

  “Wait. You mean Lyda…”

  “Whatever money he earns, he gives to her,” Marguerite confirmed. “Noah makes very few demands, but he’s adamant about that. He doesn’t want anyone paying for his upkeep. When he doesn’t have a Master or Mistress, I expect he uses his money for food or to give himself a place to stay. Someone’s extra room, or a place that accepts cash. He thinks about what his Master or Mistress may need from him and acquires the appropriate skills, but when it comes to the structure most of us have—bank accounts, bills—he doesn’t do those things.”

  “So he’s like a homeless person, in a sense.” Gen was seeing him in an uncomfortable new light.

  Marguerite lifted a shoulder. “It’s tempting to define someone on your own terms rather than understanding who and what they are. Noah’s free will is a very elusive thing. It tends to be like a ch
ameleon, adapting to whoever has possession of him.”

  She’d fought so hard for her independence, to own her own home, car—to regain control of her life. She couldn’t understand someone who turned their back on such things. It sent up all sorts of red flags. But those protective instincts she’d felt around him were also back in an unexpectedly strong way. “Can’t that be dangerous to him?”

  Marguerite’s blue gaze flickered, telling her she’d said something her boss had hoped she’d understand. Gen didn’t claim to comprehend any of it, but Marguerite’s approbation was always enough to steady her in any situation. “Yes, it can. Certain submissives are so immersed in their orientation that it defines everything about them. It makes them a prize to a certain kind of sexual Dominant. Unfortunately there are good and bad ones. Once Noah commits to a Dom, he is everything that Master or Mistress desires him to be, because that challenge fulfills his soul. Even that doesn’t fully describe it, because there are many things about Noah that are unclassifiable. He is a special young man.”

  “M’s hitting the nail on the head,” Chloe agreed. “He’s incredible, and yet a little scary as well. If he was part of one of those cultures with arranged marriages, he’d accept the choice given him without question, and serve his wife with utter devotion. Even if she was a hideous bitch.”

  “But how could that make him happy?”

  “Happiness isn’t the primary priority to this type of submissive, Gen,” Marguerite said. “Or rather, their definition of happiness lies in their service. To a point. For Noah, that point is much further along the spectrum than most.”

  “So how would you know if you were special to him at all? If you could be a hideous bitch, and he’d be just the same way with you as he’d be with a generous lover…”

  Marguerite nodded. “It’s the dilemma any Mistress who lets herself care for him faces.”