by Radclyffe
“But you don’t think she will?” Kyle studied the young woman seriously, impressed by the depth of understanding in her clear blue eyes.
“I don’t know.” She sighed. “I don’t know if she’s forgiven herself yet.”
“For what?”
Anne gave Kyle a curious look. “For failing.” She stood abruptly, as if sorry she had said so much. “Come on. It’s show time.”
With the last animal in tow, they headed back for the final entry. They were almost to the ring when Caroline rushed up to them and caught Anne in a fierce hug.
“Oh, babe, I’m so sorry.” Caroline kissed Anne quickly, then nodded to Kyle. “I couldn’t reach you by phone to tell you we were on our way, and then the damn Jeep got stuck in a washout on the way down the mountain this morning. What a mess!”
Anne glowed with relief. “It’s okay, you’re here now. Besides, Kyle really saved the day.”
“Thanks so mu...” Caroline fell silent when she realized that Dane had joined them.
Kyle, her eyes riveted on Dane, was pale. Anne tugged Caroline away toward the ring.
“Hello.” Kyle studied Dane, trying to judge her condition. She looked thinner. There were fine lines around her eyes that hadn’t been there before. There was no trace of warmth in the blue eyes that glanced over Kyle, no hint of tenderness in her smile.
“Hello, Kyle.” Dane shifted her gaze, unable to bear the sadness that was etched in every line of Kyle’s face. “Thank you for helping Anne. I’m afraid she’s had to handle too much alone these past few weeks.”
“She’s been doing great. She seems really good at all this.”
“I know,” Dane said quietly. She cleared her throat and forced herself to meet Kyle’s eyes. She owed her that much. “About the last time we met. I’m sorry about what happened. I’m afraid I blew our scene.”
“My God, Dane,” Kyle gasped in amazement, “Do you really think I give a damn about that?” Her voice pleaded for Dane to hear her as she desperately searched the rigid planes of Dane’s handsome face for some sign that Dane felt anything for her. “Do I have to tell you how much more you mean to me than that?”
Dane’s expression betrayed none of her inner turmoil. From the moment she’d returned to awareness, she’d ached to see Kyle again. Even as she’d dreaded the moment, dreaded seeing the disappointment in Kyle’s eyes, she’d longed for the surcease only Kyle seemed able to bring her. But she’d locked herself away and stayed silent, too ashamed to reach out. I’m so sorry I let you down. So sorry you saw me break.
“I was hoping you’d call.” Kyle spoke quietly, without recrimination. Dane’s eyes were dull with pain, and her own heart bled to see it.
“I got your message,” Dane said woodenly. It had killed her to learn that Kyle had seen everything, knew everything. She hated knowing that Kyle had seen her like that, so pitifully weak. “You must know you deserve better. I’m sorry you had to find it out quite like that.”
“You’re wrong.” Kyle risked raising a hand to stroke Dane’s cheek. She was desperate to reach her, and their physical bond had always been so strong.
Dane flinched and pulled her head back. “Don’t. Please.”
Her hand still in the air between them, Kyle felt their tenuous connection slipping away. “Dane, I lo—”
“It’s time to move on, Kyle.” Dane’s tone was as cold as her eyes. While she still could, she turned her back and walked away.
“Dane!”
Dane did not stop; she did not look back. Goodbye, baby.
Chapter Nineteen
Kyle resumed her relentless absorption in work, while her pain and frustration transformed into an all-consuming rage. Rage at Brad for her cruelty, rage at Dane for succumbing to it, and—most of all—rage at herself for being unable to stop caring. Her isolation became complete as Nancy turned up at the shop with diminishing frequency. Even when her friend did come to work, they talked little and avoided all mention of their personal lives.
When Caroline reached out to her, calling to ask about her absence from the discussion group, Kyle replied bitterly that she’d heard all there was to hear. Caroline persisted, but Kyle gave her no room to talk. Finally, Caroline stopped calling.
Eventually, when the silent house and the crushing emptiness became unbearable, Kyle went back to Leathers. But the connection she had always felt to the other women there was gone. She approached no one, touched no one. No one caught her attention, nothing stirred her heart. Until she saw Dane.
Late one night Kyle turned from her solitary contemplation of the scarred surface of the bar, her attention drawn to the far side of the room. Dane was ensconced in her old place, looking aloof and distant. And just as with the first time Kyle had seen her, she was instantly captivated. Her heart triple-timed, and her skin misted with the anticipation of a touch she had missed for so long. As if feeling the intensity of Kyle’s heated gaze on her skin, Dane turned her head and met Kyle’s eyes. Her glance flickered over Kyle’s face once, briefly, her expression betraying no recognition. Then she slowly and deliberately looked away.
The rejection was so agonizing that Kyle was forced to turn her back. When she could breathe again, she wanted only to extinguish the pain. She was desperate to erase the lingering image of Dane’s cold blue eyes passing over her as if she and Dane had never touched. Steeling herself, she ordered another beer and looked over the possibilities, carefully avoiding Dane’s corner of the arena.
Finally, she focused her attention on a woman standing alone, her back against a pillar. She looked young, but not too young, dressed in low-slung skin-tight jeans and a scant midriff-baring top beneath a faded denim jacket. The glint of silver flickered at her small tight navel. She wore heavy motorcycle boots and, at first glance, looked tough and insouciant. But when her eyes fell on Kyle, who was staring at her pointedly, she quickly averted her gaze.
Not so sure after all. Kyle smiled to herself and lit a cigarette. She smoked leisurely, finished her beer, and ordered two more. Unhurriedly, she carried them both through the crowd until she was at the young woman’s side. Up close she could see that her smooth features were unlined, her blond hair falling in gentle disarray over clear bright eyes. Although color rose to her cheeks, she continued to stare ahead, waiting for Kyle to initiate contact.
Kyle handed her the beer. “Yours is warm,” she said in a low voice.
The woman immediately tossed her half-empty bottle into the receptacle behind her and took the cold one Kyle offered. “Thank you.”
Smiling slightly, Kyle ran her hand lightly down the young woman’s exposed forearm and curled a finger under the thin leather bracelet that circled her right wrist.
“Are you serious about this?”
“Yes.”
Wordlessly, Kyle insinuated an arm behind the blond and slipped a hand beneath the edge of her jeans at the hollow of her spine. Circling her fingers, Kyle felt the muscles tense at her touch. For an instant, she considered walking away. But she had nowhere to go, and the game had begun.
“I need to know your name.” Kyle continued to knead the firm flesh, drawing the young woman closer. She pressed her hips against a firm thigh, knowing her companion would feel that she had come equipped for anything. The pressure against her own body teased her already swollen flesh, but the arousal was a distant pleasure. What she cared about was exciting the blond. “Any name, it doesn’t matter.”
At that moment, Kyle realized that it didn’t matter—that she didn’t need or want to know anything about the woman other than what was necessary to complete the scene—and she felt another fleeting surge of sadness. But when she concentrated on the roles they would each soon play, the sadness, along with the pain, disappeared.
“Tell me your name,” Kyle breathed against a small delicate ear as she caught the navel piercing in her fingers and tugged.
The blond gasped. “Jena. It’s Jena.”
“Are you tired of the club yet?” Kyle leaned into
Jena, her hips insistent against the smaller woman’s thighs. “Jena?”
“I’ve seen everything I need to.” Jena lifted hazy eyes to Kyle’s. “Now that you’re here.”
“I’d like to take your clothes off, somewhere quiet and private. There might be other things I’d like to do.” Kyle was going by instinct now, playing out a fantasy that had somehow become real. She was vaguely aware that she was not really physically aroused, but still she was excited. She was excited to be in control, to be creating the events moment to moment. “Do you understand?”
“Yes.” Jena turned, fitting her pelvis to Kyle’s and parting her thighs to accommodate the firm form nestled beside Kyle’s fly. Heavy-lidded, she murmured, “May I make one request?”
Stomach tight, Kyle nodded.
“Please don’t mark me.”
Kyle hid her shock, but she couldn’t keep the image of Dane, her back a river of ruin, from filling her mind. She fought back the nausea and concentrated on the woman who was slowly thrusting against her.
“I agree,” Kyle said hoarsely. She took Jena’s hand. “Come on.”
Kyle did not look in Dane’s direction as she led the girl from the club, but their hasty exit did not go unnoticed.
*
“You could go after her, you know,” Caroline said quietly from beside her friend.
“No.” Dane stared straight ahead, cradling the bottle of beer, now warm, in lifeless fingers. She’d watched the scene unfold—she hadn’t wanted to, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. At least the pain of watching Kyle seduce another woman made her feel something. Since the incident with Brad and its devastating aftermath, she hadn’t felt much of anything. When the physical torment had abated, the emotional anguish had begun. The remorse and recrimination had been exquisitely painful; when combined with the shame of having lost all control in front of Kyle, the agony had become unbearable. All she could do was withdraw. From everyone, everything.
She wouldn’t have gone back to Leathers at all if Caroline hadn’t insisted. And the first time she’d seen Kyle, her former lover had not seen her. There was a new hardness in Kyle’s face and an emptiness in her smile. Even so, Kyle looked so good. And seeing her, Dane couldn’t help but remember. The memory of her happiness at being with Kyle had a surreal quality, and she wondered if it had all been a dream. Dream or not, the joy was gone, lost on the tide of her own blood.
“It’s too late.” Dane tossed her beer away. “She’s already gone.”
“You don’t know that.” Caroline carefully touched Dane’s arm. Dane was very skittish about being touched now. “Dane...you can’t just stop living.”
“I’m doing all I can.” Dane’s expression was bleak, but her voice resolute. “I need to get out of here.”
*
Kyle drove quickly but carefully, following directions Jena shouted as she clung to Kyle on the back of the motorcycle. Once inside the apartment, Kyle shed her jacket and lifted Jena’s from her shoulders.
“Take me to your bedroom. Do you have a candle?”
“Yes—by the bed.” Jena’s voice sounded small in the dark.
“Good.” Kyle took Jena’s hand. “Just turn the lights on out here. Leave the bedroom dark.”
“All right.”
The small room was neat, the furnishings simple but stylish. There was an oval area rug in the center of the wood floor.
“Stand by the bed.” Kyle lit the bedside candle with a flick of her lighter. Then, slowly and carefully, she undressed the young blond woman. She started with her top, catching the lower edge in her fingers and directing Jena to lift her arms as she drew it over her head. When the pert, firm breasts came into view, Kyle ran a fingertip along the outer contour of each one. Jena shivered, her eyes huge and locked on Kyle’s face.
Kyle turned her in the flickering light, palming her breasts, studying her reaction as she squeezed gently and fingered the already hard nipples. She could tell the younger woman was excited—she trembled at each light caress of Kyle’s exploring hands. Kyle pressed against her back, still working her breasts, and brushed warm lips over Jena’s ear. “Shall I stop?”
“Oh no,” Jena moaned, covering Kyle’s hands and forcing Kyle to grip her breasts harder. “No. Please.”
“You’ll need a safe word.” Kyle trailed her hand down the softly heaving abdomen, toying with the piercing while she caught the skin beneath Jena’s ear in her teeth and bit down until Jena whimpered. “Tell me now, while you still can.”
Trembling, Jena leaned her head back against Kyle’s shoulder, and eyes closed, whispered the word. Doing so, she sealed their contract of trust. She trusted Kyle to respect her limitations, her boundaries, regardless of how Kyle might feel or what Kyle might want. And Kyle, in turn, trusted Jena to be the guardian of her own body. Only Jena could know when her limits had been reached.
“I’m going to tie you down, and then I’m going to make you come until you can’t breathe, or think, or feel anything else.” Kyle kissed the spot she had just tormented with her teeth. Then she stepped around to face the softly swaying young woman and reached for the button on the low-cut jeans. Moving quickly, she opened the fly and pushed the tight material down, taking the wisps of cotton beneath with it.
“Kick off your boots and step out of these pants.”
The instant Jena was nude, Kyle placed her face down on the bed, throwing the pillow aside to prevent it from obstructing the young woman’s breathing. Then she unbuckled her wide, wear-softened leather belt and drew it from the waistband of her pants. “If something happens that hurts you in a way you don’t like, use your safe word. I’ll stop.”
Jena turned her head and looked back over her shoulder at Kyle. Her hips circled indolently against the bed. “Hurry.”
Laughing, Kyle bound Jena’s hands securely to the upper part of the bed frame. “You’ll have to pay for that.” She leaned down, ran her tongue the length of Jena’s neck. Her voice was low, husky. “Maybe I won’t let you come.”
“I’m sorry.” Her breath caught when Kyle drew a hand down the center of her back and massaged her slowly clenching buttocks. “May I...oh...may I give you something?”
Surprised, Kyle leaned back from the bed. “Yes.”
“On the back of the closet door.”
Kyle found a short-handled crop with numerous fine leather strands extending a foot from its end. Her heart plummeted when she closed her hand around it. Even though Jena was asking her to use it, she wasn’t sure she could. She found it more and more difficult to look at Jena’s naked back without seeing Dane, again and again. The scene was hers; she could refuse. But there was Jena’s pleasure to be considered, and as the top, it was ultimately Kyle’s responsibility to create a scene that both partners would find satisfying, within acceptable limits for each. She gripped the leather-wrapped handle, its thickness matching that of the candle that burned by the bedside, and stepped up to the prone figure awaiting her pleasure.
Straddling Jena’s hips, her crotch tight to the swell of the firm buttocks, Kyle started with the stout handle, the leather strands entwined in her fingers. Slowly, she traced each muscle, every bone, in Jena’s back and shoulders with the edge while rhythmically thrusting against Jena’s body. She heard Jena gasp at each new contact and felt the increasingly frantic press of writhing muscles between her thighs. The pressure between her spread legs was arousing, but Kyle wasn’t interested in her own climax. Jena’s pleasure was her goal, the power her aphrodisiac. As Kyle turned the crop in her hand and drew the leather strands along Jena’s sweat-misted back, she realized that in this instance it was the possibility of pain that was erotic, rather than the actual infliction of punishment.
When Kyle finally did push back on her knees and use the crop for what it was intended, she wielded it gently, taking care that the blows were not hard enough to inflict damage. The effect was instantaneous. Jena responded to each snap of leather on skin with a soft groan, and her hips convulsed, risi
ng and falling with increasing speed.
She’s going to come if I keep this up. God, she’s almost there.
Without even thinking about it, Kyle reversed the crop once again and slid the handle up the inside of Jena’s thigh until it was nestled between her legs—resting between the swollen folds of her sex, but not inside her.
“Oh God,” Jena moaned, tightening her thighs, trapping the crop against her screaming flesh. “I’m so close...please.”
Kyle rocked the handle along Jena’s clitoris until the soft cries and frantic motion indicated that the blond was about to go off, then she tossed the crop away and forced her own leather-encased thigh between Jena’s. She slipped one hand beneath Jena’s pelvis, seeking the moisture she knew she would find as she entered her from above to complete the circle. Inside, she thrust hard against rapidly spasming muscles, outside she stroked the turgid nerve endings, controlling Jena’s body to the very end. When Jena screamed and came, shuddering and sobbing, Kyle felt her own stomach-clenching tension ebb away.
She felt no need to reach orgasm herself; it was enough that Jena had. The excitement and power she had drawn from the encounter was enough. She released Jena’s hands, pulled the sheets over her, and kissed the back of the drowsy woman’s neck. Then she left her.
*
The experience with Jena provided temporary relief from the seething unrest Kyle couldn’t shake, and she found herself drawn again and again to this easy solution for her despair. She quickly discovered that the rumor she had heard was true: experienced tops were always in demand. Without intending it, she found that she no longer had to seek out partners. Whenever she entered the club, there was always someone more than willing to end the night with her. She developed considerable skill at creating and controlling a scene; she learned to recognize what would excite her partners by the way they responded to her first advances, and came to appreciate the subtle signals that indicated a woman’s experience and desires.
