Five Weeks In December

by Blue Kincaid

  December shivered, hurrying to shed her sweater and jeans. Panties and bra came next and lastly a pair of festive pink socks with little candy canes on them. While she stripped, he shrugged out of his jacket and kicked his shoes off, though he remained dressed.

  Once she was naked, he held up the shackles. “Wrists.”

  She lifted her hands, breath coming quicker through her nose as he snugly buckled first one, then the other cuff around her slender wrists, then took hold of the short chain between them.

  “Good girl. Over here, now.” He led her to the bathroom door, then drew her hands up above her head. He secured the chain to the hook, then tightened the adjustable strap so she was forced onto tiptoes. Harry slid his hands down her upstretched arms, fingers trailing her fine skin, then across to her cheek, tracing the soft leather of the ball-gag’s strap. “Now, since you can’t say anything right now, if you want the scene to stop, you knock on the door three times. Understood?”

  She nodded, pink lips stretched around the gag, soft and damp. Like how she looked with her lips stretched around his cock. So beautiful. So his.

  He kissed her cheek lightly, then turned to pick up the nipple clamps. They were mean looking things, with jagged teeth and a sliding adjustable tightener that would allow him to pinch them harder and harder into her tender nipples. She had such beautiful nipples, pale and slightly puffy, though at the moment they were tight and puckered with her arousal. Perfect for clamping.

  He met her eyes, reaching out to catch one hard nipple between his thumb and forefinger, smiling at the way she inhaled sharply and flinched as Harry pulled firmly, her heavy, round breast lifting and nipple stretching slightly away from her body. He gave it a little twist, earning a yelp from behind the gag and grinned. “Maybe you’ll learn not to be so bratty?”

  She winced in pain, but then her eyes flashed mischief and she shook her head, hair tumbling around her shoulders and face. Harry laughed. She did too, the sound muffled by the gag – and then he closed the clamp without warning onto the nipple he held and her laugh turned to a shriek dulled by the pink rubber filling her mouth.

  “Ohhh, didn’t expect that so soon?” he tsked, releasing his grip on her nipple and then sliding the tightener down so the clamp dug in firmly and wouldn’t fall off. She writhed against the door, mewling and panting heavily. “Shhh, good girl. One more.”

  She whimpered, but her gaze locked on his and he saw nothing but openness, eagerness…surrender. Why couldn’t she see that outside of a scene? That they were meant to be together and what they shared meant so much more than a job ever could?

  He pushed those thoughts aside. All he wanted right now was to give her one final, crystal clear memory of how perfect they were together. Whether it made her change her mind or just made sure she never forgot him, he didn’t know which it would be. He wanted to love her and she couldn’t stop him this time.

  The second clamp took her breath away and for a few heartbeats she was silent with eyes squeezed shut before they flew open as he tightened the clamp and their gazes locked.

  “That’s my girl, watch me, look at me.” He bent and brushed a soft kiss to each clamped nipple, making soothing sounds in response to her flinching whimpers. He straightened and stepped back, reaching for the flogger. “Now, I know you don’t think you’re going to learn a lesson from this, but I think you’ll be left with something to think about. And that’s what I really want.”

  He caught the question in her eyes and watched as understanding dawned. She exhaled softly, eyes flooding with tears, and shook her head as if to tell him it was useless. He didn’t think so.

  He lifted the flogger and began with slow, gentle caressing strokes of the thin threads across her abdomen, her thighs, avoiding her clamped breasts for now. She arched, mewling behind the gag, but she never looked away from him. And he never looked away from her. This was what he wanted, to forge the connection a little bit stronger before she pushed him away completely. Just a little bit more.

  Gradually the strikes got more intense, coming faster, rhythmic as her flesh pinkened and her breath came in harsh pants through her nose. Then he softened the strokes again, beginning to walk the flogger up her arching body and when the first thread struck her tightly clamped nipple, he was glad for the gag because the shriek she let out would have brought the cops down on them in no time.

  He didn’t speak, but murmured soothingly to her as he sped up the blows. She danced so beautifully under the snapping ribbons of pain and he watched intently, burning the memory into his mind, to pull out later and relive if this was all he’d have.

  Then he stopped abruptly, moving in on her and cupping her face in his hands, their eyes locked in wordless communication as she shook and cried and stared at him as if he was her sun and moon. He would give anything to never lose the way she looked at him right then.

  But he was going to lose it, he could feel it. She was going to leave and he wasn’t ready to let her go. So he kissed the tears from her cheeks and reached up to lower the hook a bit, giving her some slack and then turned her gently to face the door.

  He smoothed her hair to one side, forward over her shoulder so her beautiful back was bare to him. His hand splayed at her nape and swept slow and possessive down the elegant arch. Her body bowed into the touch, seeking closer contact instinctively.

  He didn’t rush. If this was the last time he had her this way, he’d make it something she never forgot. He’d make it so powerful, so gut-wrenchingly perfect she wouldn’t be able to push it aside and forget like she did with other clients. He’d haunt her if he could, until she realized what he already knew – that they were meant to be together – and came home to him.

  “Do you want to know why else I gagged you, my love?” He could feel her tense at the endearment and sighed softly. “Because of that. Because you would protest right now if you could. Oh, you’ll let me beat you, you’ll let me fuck you, you’ll beg me and thank me for teasing you to distraction with the toys in that bag, but I tell you I love you and it’s something you can’t allow, is it?” He bent to brush his lips along her shoulder, following the path of her upper arm stretched so taut. “Well, now you have no choice. You can make me stop this scene by knocking on the door three times, but unless you want to stop the entire thing, you’re going to listen to me right now, December. You’re going to listen while I tell you all the reasons I love you, and all the ways I will love you forever.”

  She twisted her head around as best she could, though it was impossible to glare at him from that angle, he suspected. He pressed a kiss to her temple.

  “I love you because you’ll glare at me when we’re fifty and I interrupt you to turn you over my knee because I still can’t resist that luscious ass of yours.” He gave said luscious ass a sharp pop with his palm before he took a step back. “Offer it to me.”

  Even mad at him for tricking her, her body responded to his command, hips tilting back, slim thighs spreading apart in preparation. When the flogger snapped and the threads of it curved at her hip, she arched, and he was careful not to yank back too fast and slice her skin accidentally.

  “I love the way you smile at me. Even if you’re laughing at me, it makes me want to forever act a fool just to see you smile.” He punctuated the words with another blow, this time with a little twist of his wrist beforehand to wrap the threads of the flogger into a brief, solid rope that struck with a solid thud across the fleshiest part of her ass and made her jump, groaning behind the gag.

  She looked at him, then, and she wasn’t glaring now. Tears filled her eyes, though they didn’t fall. Harry let the flogger fall one, two, three times across her back like a stinging light kiss, knowing she could feel his love in the heat that bloomed across her pale skin.

  “I love how much you want to help people. Whether it’s me or your friends or your family. You don’t worry about what you’ll get out of it, you just do what is needed and that’s enough. It makes me want to spend forever doin
g for you because I think you forget you matter. Maybe you don’t know how much you do.”

  Her eyes closed then, and she shook her head slightly. His heart ached and the flogger never stopped flying, connecting, communicating his love to her.

  “Oh, December. You do matter. To me most of all.” When her eyes opened again, they shimmered with unshed tears and she didn’t look away from him. As if he could make her believe and she wished he would. God, he would try.

  He tossed the flogger onto the bed and stepped up behind her, stripping off his shirt so his bare chest pressed against the welted, heated skin of her back. His marks like kisses on her skin, a little bit of his love in each one she’d feel for days. Forever, maybe, long after they’d faded.

  His arms slid around her waist and he gave her his body heat, his strength as she sagged against the door. “I’m here. Right here with you. You are everything,” he whispered, lips against her ear.

  She shook in his arms, eyes squeezed shut, but she listened.

  “Whatever is behind you, whatever’s in front of you, I’m here for it, December. I’m here and if you’ll let me I’ll face it down with you.” He reached up to unbuckle the gag, lips against her cheek now. “What we have ends without your consent, we both know that. But what I feel doesn’t. You can’t control that, little love. You own me, no matter what.”

  Her breath hitched and tears did fall then. He kissed them away, only to have them replaced with more and more until his lips were salty with her sadness. “Harry, I…”

  He shook his head, reaching up to free her from the hook and then turning her to face him. He cupped her wet cheeks in his hands and shook his head again. “No. No answers right now.” Harry smiled gently, kissing her soft mouth. “I still have to give you your reward.”

  Her smile was a bit watery, but she lifted her still shackled wrists and looped them over his head, pressed against him. “Okay.”

  Her agreement in that moment was the best he could ask for – and his one chance to change her mind. So he spent the rest of the night loving her with everything in him and cursing it because nothing he did or could do ever came close to what he felt inside. But while the snow outside fell and piled and silenced the world around them, he fell asleep with her in his arms. Hopeful, at least, that maybe he’d gotten through to her.

  When he woke up, he was alone.

  Chapter Seventeen

  December flinched as the door of her childhood bedroom flung open, connecting loudly with the wall and sending the cymbals crashing in her head. “Quieter, Harley, please,” she snarled.

  “Harry just left. You didn’t even come say goodbye?”

  She shook her head, sliding her sunglasses higher on her face. “No. I told you guys we were just friends. Don’t blame me if you’re all heartbroken now that he’s gone.”

  Harley narrowed his eyes at her. “What’s going on? You like him, I know you do. You been nothing but stupid over him since you got here.”

  December rolled her eyes. “Yes, all 36 hours or so. Thanks so much for your insightful observations into my love life, douchenozzle. Get out.”

  Harley didn’t. Instead he plopped down into her old desk chair and eyed her where she sat on the bed glaring out the window. She knew Harry was gone. She’d watched him go.

  “What’d he do?” There was a hint of brotherly ‘want me to kick his ass?’ in Harley’s voice and December let out a broken laugh, trying not to let it turn into tears.

  “Nothing. He didn’t do anything. It was me. It’s fine, Harley, you’ll figure it out when you’re older. Shit happens.”

  “Oh bullshit. Like I’m 12 and don’t know nothing about love. If you came home once in a while maybe you’d know I already know a thing or two about it.”

  “I don’t love him. And who gave you permission to go falling for some silly girl anyway?” She couldn’t imagine her baby brother ever being more interested in girls than he was horses.

  His chin tipped up and his look was challenging. “Wasn’t a girl. Don’t you tell on me, December Rose, I swear to god.”

  December blinked, then reached across to squeeze his knee. “Oh, honey, I won’t tell anyone. You know Momma and Rick won’t blink an eye, though, right? They love you.”

  He nodded. “I know. I just ain’t ready for the whole town and all my friends and stuff to know. I’m more worried momma will go plastering rainbow flags on her car and shit, embarrassing me.” He smiled when he said it though, and she knew their support meant a lot to him. “Anyway, this ain’t about me. I’m just saying…you love him. Or, if you don’t, you’re better at your job than you know.”

  It was like her insides froze. She went utterly still and was so grateful for the sunglasses hopefully hiding her fear. Oh god. How did he find out? “Harley…” she began.

  But he shook his head, cutting her off. “Stop. Stop lying. You think I care about that any more than you care I like boys? I figured it out a long time ago, and I’d bet so have momma and Rick. Bet it’d make ‘em feel better to know it ain’t as bad as they think.”

  “How do you know?” she whispered.

  “I mean, come on. How do you think we think you afford that life of yours out there in California, travelling all over the world and stuff? I think momma thinks it’s just dancing, but I know it’s more than that. Then Harry kind of confirmed it – on accident, so don’t get mad at him.”

  Her brows lifted and she lowered her sunglasses, wishing now that she hadn’t finished off all three of the airplane mini-bottles of vodka she’d stashed in her purse. “Accidentally?”

  Harley chuckled. “Yeah, well, he ain’t such a good liar. When we were playing GTA, I mighta asked him some questions. Let’s just say you mighta coached him a little better so he didn’t sound like a stuttering fool.”

  She cringed. “What did he say?”

  “He said he loves you. Has from the minute he met you. Asked me if I’d mind if maybe you and him became more than friends. But you’re not just friends, are you?”

  Sadness flooded her and she pushed her sunglasses back up on her face. “We’re not anything anymore, Harley. Harry is a good man, a very good man, and he will find the right woman for him. Not me.”

  “But why not you?”

  “Harley!” she snapped. “Stop it. I don’t know when you became such a little matchmaker, but this is not the right time to start.”

  Harley rolled his eyes. “Matchmaking? Look, I don’t know shit about this guy, I certainly don’t have any reason to take his side over yours. But I kinda care if you’re sitting there thinking you’re not good enough or him or something. Cause that’s some bullshit, okay?” His eyes, so like her own, narrowed. “Did he make you feel that way?”

  December couldn’t help but smile. “No, baby, he didn’t.”

  “Don’t call me baby. So if it wasn’t him…that Trent guy?”

  December sighed. “Harley, you really just can’t understand. It’s complicated.”

  Harley shrugged. “Dunno what’s so complicated. He loves you. He didn’t make you feel bad. You love him, too. What’s so hard about that?”

  She didn’t know how to explain it when she didn’t really understand it herself. Things had gotten so twisted up over the last four weeks that she didn’t know how she’d ever untangle everything. “It just is. And it’s over. He’s gone, I’m going back to LA in a few days…I don’t want to waste the trip.” She forced a smile and reached out to ruffle Harley’s hair. “I’d rather hear about your boyfriend and kick your ass in Dance Dance Revolution.”

  He groaned and shoved her hand away. “I am not playing that mess. Wait a few years and con Olive into it.”

  December did her best to push aside thoughts of Harry – alone, on his way back to DC. Sad. She knew he was. He wouldn’t be for long. He wasn’t that broken man she’d first met. He’d remembered who he was and even delved into a new part of him that wasn’t the same anymore. Maybe for the better. Some very lucky girl was going
to make him very happy.

  It just wasn’t her. It never could have been.

  * * * * *

  Don’t think about him. Enough. Nope, definitely not thinking about him anymore. I left him to get back to my life, it’s time I did it.

  December whipped out her iPad, legs tucked under her on the couch, the late afternoon sunshine streaming through the open bay window of the little cottage house she rented with Sheridan. No snow here, no bundling in cozy sweaters and under blankets, pressing her toes against Harry’s calves to warm them – dammit, there she went thinking about him again.

  Determined to put him at the back of her mind, she opened up her website email and skimmed through the numerous messages filling her inbox. Most were men hoping to become clients, all of which she deleted. She’d had her fill of the unknown and unfamiliar.

  That left three emails, two of which were from a long-time regular who lived in London. Since she’d told everyone she’d be unavailable for another week yet, she wondered what would make him email twice. The older email was simply him wishing her a happy holidays and mentioning he’d deposited a gift for her in her personal account. So that’s where the extra money had come from.

  The second email was only two days old, sent around the time she’d come back to LA early from Kentucky. Opening it, she lifted her brows in surprise. He’d escaped the London winter, he said, down in Sydney and wondered if she might like to join him down under. It sounded perfect, actually. An escape, yet someone familiar and comfortable. Just the thing to get Harry and all the drama off her mind.

  Before she could second guess herself – or, more to the point, before her inner voice could call her a fucking fool for the twentieth time in the last hour – December fired off an email to let him know she’d returned early and if he still wanted companionship she was free. Less than a minute later – he must have been online at the moment – Charles, her portly British aristocrat, emailed her back telling her he’d have a ticket waiting for her at LAX and that he’d have a car pick her up from the Sydney airport.