“You’re still in the zone, girl. Don’t worry about anything. I’ll take care of you.”
Two different sides of the same wonderful coin. Harsh and demanding, punishing and strong, matched with cosseting and protective, spinning a cocoon around her. He took a seat on one of the sofas and started to guide her down next to him on the cushions. He would put her under the shelter of his arm, let her lean against him.
Here at last, she wanted something different, though she didn’t think it was different from what he wanted. Instead of following the pressure of his hand, she sank to her knees on the floor. She wanted to sit at her Master’s feet, lean against his knee. It was the prosthesis side, and she put her head on his knee where the socket and flesh met, pressing her lips there.
“Stubborn girl.” But his voice was thick. She’d moved him. He made her adjust so he could put a cushion under her and a blanket around her shoulders, but he let her stay where she was. There she rested, his hand stroking her hair as she simply floated.
People came and went, people who knew him, complimenting him on the scene, asking questions. Master Craftsman, the name they’d given him. He was a master of his craft. Her Master. She thought again about doing those demonstrations with him. She liked the idea of becoming known as his sub, the only one associated with him.
A pair of boots stopped in front of him, a pair she recognized, since she’d admired them the first time Sheila had worn them at the club. She didn’t feel anything other than mild interest in that. None of her earlier trepidation remained. In this setting, in this state, she belonged to Dale utterly. Only his approval or disapproval mattered.
“Master D.”
The Domme had used his actual honorific, rather than the nickname he’d accepted so good-naturedly. It suggested she intended to address him formally, not the appropriate moment for “MC.” Dale said nothing, and from the shift of his boots, the thrum of tension she felt through his leg, Athena knew exactly what kind of look Sheila was getting.
Or maybe not.
When she peeked at him beneath her lashes, she saw his gaze was more than forbidding. It was cold, almost dangerous. While she knew he wouldn’t harm Sheila, she wasn’t sure if his demeanor would convince anyone of that.
Sheila cleared her throat. “I wanted to apologize. I acted inappropriately toward your submissive, and insulted both you and her.”
“Yes, you did. You hurt her deeply. She considered you a friend.”
That was her SEAL, not beating around the bush, stating what others, even herself, might imply with the roundabout etiquette of Southern courtesy. But by doing so, he took away any of the bullshit associated with such awkward conversations and cut to the chase. Athena knew she wasn’t supposed to speak, yet his fingers tightened on her hair, anticipating her automatic compulsion to smooth things over. It was a clear message that she didn’t have his permission to talk. He was her Master, and this was his matter to handle.
“I’m sorry about that, Athena. I—” Sheila stopped. “I’d like to tell her that directly, Master D, if you’ll allow me to make amends to you both.”
There was a weighted pause, then Dale’s grip eased, giving Athena a reassuring caress. “I think she’d like that. Athena, you may speak to Mistress Sheila.”
Athena lifted her head as Sheila squatted before her so they were eye to eye. A Mistress clad in impressive regalia of soft leather, a single tail coiled in her gloved hand, and a dazed sub in thin dress and blanket.
“I am sorry, Athena. I didn’t get it. Not until I saw you tonight, and then it made so much sense, thinking about the way you were a Mistress to Roy. Amy said it that night, didn’t she? Granted, in kind of an obnoxious manner, and I expect she’s going to apologize to you, too, but I guess neither one of us was paying attention to the right things. I saw the connections tonight. It was the same language, in a different way. I admit that I don’t get that side of the language”—a smile touched her mouth—“but it was really, horribly wrong of me to treat you that way. I hope you’ll forgive me for being such a total bitch.”
There was a vulnerability to her expression now, one that Athena couldn’t help but answer. She reached out without thought, closed her hand on Sheila’s.
“I love those boots even more, seeing them at this level.”
The words came out throaty and rough. She was pretty sure she was going to have no voice tomorrow, and imagined having to tell Ellen and her staff she had laryngitis. “All’s forgiven. Thank you for apologizing to my Master.”
Sheila touched her face in answer, then she rose. She gave Dale a nod and moved on, the matter settled. The relationship between them would be different now. It had been in Sheila’s light touch on her face, the glance at Dale to ensure it was okay. The way she looked down at Athena as she rose showed she now saw her as a submissive. It would give things between them a different shape, but it was an okay change.
“I didn’t give you permission to touch the Mistress, Athena,” Dale reminded her.
“No Master. I’m sorry.”
He grunted. “If you get a future urge to touch another woman, I want you to let me know immediately. And in great detail.”
She smiled against his leg, tightening her fingers on the socket. “Yes, Master.”
Jimmy brought Dale two drinks and, at his nod, he also squatted, offering hers. “The soda’s full octane tonight, not diet,” he said. “Your Master says you need the sugar. After that session, I agree.”
Whereas Sheila’s apology had been a simple balm for the wound created, the acceptance on Jimmy’s face stung Athena’s eyes with tears. The good kind. She took the drink, though her hand was still shaking. Jimmy wrapped his around it, steadying her, and gave it a squeeze. “I’m sorry, too,” he said. “I should have been a better friend that night. Guess I always kind of harbored hopes that we might have a session together. I forgot the most important deal of a place like this is accepting one another as we are. Even if the face of that changes, the heart of it doesn’t.”
When he was hailed from the bar, he gave her another nod and smile, then returned to his post. She was thirsty, but she realized she couldn’t bring the cup to her lips. Her hand was trembling too badly. She needn’t have worried. Her Master leaned forward, his large hand ensconcing hers, guiding the cup to her mouth. “There you go. Easy sips.”
“He touched me, I didn’t touch him,” she mumbled, in case he was going to chastise her for that. Those blue-green eyes twinkled at her.
“Yes, I noticed that. I’ll have to have a talk with Jimmy. I’m particular about men touching my sub. Especially a man who has such an obvious interest in her.”
“Jimmy? He . . .” At Dale’s ironic look, she realized there might be some truth to it. In the end, Dale had been right. All of their reactions had had more to do with them, rather than a reflection on herself. It didn’t matter now. Everything was clearer, even if she was so tired she wasn’t sure she could stand. But she did have the energy to do one thing. She looked up into his face. “Master, may I touch you?”
At his nod, she put her hand on his face, staring at him. She knew subspace could make one loopy and overly emotional like this, but this whole scenario had confirmed a lot of things she hadn’t known for certain about the two of them. She was so glad Dale had insisted on doing this, and that she’d had the courage to follow through. It gave her quiet pride, and utter faith in their future. She traced his cheekbone, the firm lips, his hard jaw. When he captured her wrist, kissed her palm, she closed her eyes.
“Will you stay with me tonight?” She wanted to be sure.
“Try to keep me away.”
—
He didn’t take her right home, though. He took her to a quiet place on the riverfront, bundling her up in a car coat he had so she’d be warm on the bench where they sat, watching the lights reflect in the lapping water. He also brought a cushio
n from the truck and made her sit on that, a kindness she appreciated.
“When we get home, I’m going to give you a full massage and put that balm on every sore spot,” he promised, kissing her brow. She laid her head on his shoulder.
“So they’ll heal up and you can give me new spots.”
“Absolutely.” His lips curved against her. “You were magnificent tonight. It was watching you get so lost in it that changed their minds.”
“You took me there. I’ve never felt so . . . unencumbered. There was nothing in my mind but you, and this feeling of crazy peace, as odd as that sounds. Even in the midst of the pain.”
“You gave me everything, held on to nothing. You trusted me fully, Athena. You let go.”
She automatically started to put her hand on his chest, but then stopped herself. He caught her fingers and pressed her palm to his heated flesh, a heat she could feel even through his shirt. “You can touch me how you like, girl. Say whatever you want. I like hearing your voice. Especially when it’s raspy because of how much you screamed for me tonight.”
She decided to let the smug male satisfaction pass, since it was obviously well deserved. “I have a place in the Keys,” she said. “I thought I might go there in the next few weeks. It has a private stretch of beach. I go there to read, take walks, get away from work. Would you be able to go with me?”
“Yeah. Let me know the dates, and I’ll get a couple guys to cover for me with the dogs. Remember what I said, though.” He brushed a kiss along her temple. “No matter how much real estate you have, I’m not becoming your kept man, Mrs. Summers.”
“What about when you’re old and doddering and need someone to care for you?”
“That won’t be your problem. You’ll have kicked me to the curb well before then.”
Her brow creased. His tone said he was teasing her, but as he’d said, she read people well. That intuition made her sit up, close both her hands on his. “If we get old and doddering together—and I truly hope we will—you will let me take care of you, Dale Rousseau.”
His eyes narrowed, and she recognized the set of the jaw, countered it by slipping her fingers over it. “Not just because I’m a submissive and it’s my nature to care for others. I love you. It doesn’t matter if I’m a Domme, sub or a vanilla person. When it comes to that, love looks the same. We care for the ones we love. We hold on to them as long as God allows and gives them the joy of life. And when life has no more joy, we walk with them all the way to the water’s edge, and hope for the day when we’ll get on that boat, too, and see them again.”
His gaze held hers, undecided, but this was something she knew deep down, with enough certainty for them both. “You’ve taught me about letting go, about not handling the things I shouldn’t. That was my blind spot. This is yours.”
She laid her hand on his knee, deliberately drawing his attention to his prosthesis. “You are a strong, stubborn and proud man, and you wanted to make sure you took care of every aspect of this yourself. But you really didn’t, did you? You even said so. Having the support of SEALs like Neil and Lawrence helped you deal with it emotionally, physically. Your doctors helped you refit the socket until it worked correctly, and you still see them periodically to ensure it’s doing what it should. You may view that like maintenance checks on your car, I get that, but it’s a reminder that none of us gets through this life entirely alone, without help. There are connections that make us stronger, not weak. Do you consider me weak because I surrendered myself to you?”
His change of expression to that was instant and gratifying. “No,” he said decisively. “And if you think—”
She put her hand on his mouth, not surprised when he closed his over her wrist, took it away, but it gave her the moment to speak. “I don’t. You taught me that. I’ve told you I love you. It’s a different love from what I had with Roy, but I can already tell, as we move forward, it will be as deep, possibly even more intense. It would be an honor to that love to allow me to care for you if ever you need it. Whether it’s if you have a sore on your leg,” she glanced down at it, then back up at him, a smile in her eyes now, “a head cold that makes you irritable and grumpy, or something that might take you from me.”
She sobered then, placing her hand on his heart. “You know more about honor than any man I know. Giving the one you love the honor of caring for you, when it’s necessary, that’s everything. You could crush me by not giving me that privilege, Dale. It’s a privilege you give to no other. That’s why it’s in the marriage vows, you know. Better or worse, in sickness or health.”
“Are you proposing to me, Mrs. Summers?” He’d recovered enough to tease her again, but there was a thoughtful look to his eyes, a tightness to his jaw that said, while she hadn’t completely convinced him, she’d given him something new to think about. As he’d said, they were both stubborn, independent people. It would take time for them both to think differently about certain things.
“I believe that would be my Master’s job, when and if the time is right.” She knew that it wasn’t, not now, but her heart tripped a little faster, just thinking what it would be like to belong to him in every way. “For now, I’d settle for him being a little less rock headed.”
He snorted at that, but as she laid her head back down on his shoulder, the silence drew out, both of them mulling. She had her hand on his opposite thigh, idly tracing circles, her ear pressed to his heart, listening to the steady beat. His fingers slid up and down her upper arm outside the thick coat. She wanted his touch on her skin, but at least she felt the pressure of his grip, his attention.
“I want to take you home, Athena. I want to make love to you.”
She nodded, touching her lips to his chest. “That’s what I want, too.”
—
As she lay in bed, waiting on him, she lifted her hand, studying it against the shadows. She and Roy had done that sometimes, trying to make discernible shapes, but often they were just content playing finger games, tracing the digits, caressing one another.
Dale had let her help him take the prosthesis off, showed her how he examined it for abrasions. Then he’d put them both in the shower, bathed her, not letting her do anything but stand compliant under his thorough soaping of all her crevices. He explored her body both for pleasure and to ensure he hadn’t done her any type of harm that required more care. She was too exhausted to reach the same high level of arousal she had before, but as he touched her so intimately and she thought of his intention to make love to her before they slept, it made a nice, promising swirl in her lower belly.
His cock wasn’t fully erect as he focused on her care, but it was interested, enough to encourage her to steal a few strokes of his length, despite his mock sternness at her for the transgression. He’d punish her for it later, of course.
After the shower, he’d laid her down on her love seat and done all he’d promised with the massage and the lotions, though she was sure he was tired as well. But she didn’t protest. She understood this was part of his responsibilities as Master, which he not only took very seriously, but wanted to do, if his attentive caresses were any indication. By the time he tucked her into bed and bade her stay there while he disappeared into the bathroom, her body was on a slow, pleasant simmer, anticipating, yearning for the touch of his.
He was moving around with the aid of the gift she’d given him several weeks ago. After taking surreptitious measurements of his crutches, she’d presented him a pair of carved wooden ones, made by a local craftsman. She intended them as a convenience, so he didn’t have to remember to bring his own when he spent the night here. When she gave them to him, he’d given her a weighted glance, such that she wasn’t sure if her initiative had been welcome. But then he’d examined the bald eagle carving on the cross pieces, the semblance of sailor’s knots along the shafts, the anchor shapes burned into the wood. The curve of his lips suggested he approved the use
of naval symbols. Eventually he’d grunted, brushed a kiss over her cheek and given her a pinch. That night, he’d used them for the first time, and he’d used them quite a bit since, pleasing her.
Now he emerged from the bathroom, putting them beside the bed before he stretched out on the mattress. “Come here,” he said, low, and she closed the distance between them, making a soft sound of pleasure as his arms slid around her, his hand gripping her ass, holding her fast to push a now-fully-recovered arousal more firmly against her. She thought he might want her to straddle him, but instead, he rolled her to her back, putting himself on top of her. Just as she’d imagined and hoped.
As his gaze held hers, he parted her legs with his knee. They willingly spread to accommodate him. He slid into her without preamble or foreplay. None was needed, her tissues slick and ready to take her Master.
He propped his elbows on either side of her face, giving her most but not all of his weight. Enough to offer her that delicious pinned-down feeling as she ran her hands along his broad back, down to his hips, over the muscular buttocks. Her nails dug into them and he adjusted deeper, eyes glinting as her lips parted.
“Didn’t I wear you out?” he complained. “I see there’ll be no rest for your poor Master.”
“Neil and Lawrence told me that SEALs have unlimited stamina. No matter how far a normal man runs, they can run farther. Lawrence was very clear that extended to other superhuman qualities.”
“Remind me to bash that little bastard’s head into a wall.” But Dale smiled at her, his eyes getting more serious as his thumbs slid along her cheeks. “God, you’re beautiful.”
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