by India Kells
The reaction was immediate, the foggy state of relaxation he was in dissipated and his entire body tightened against the bounds, bringing him on the verge of fighting again.
“Wesley.” Her voice was sharper now, forcing him to focus on her. “I will blindfold you, but I will never leave you alone, I will stay in this room the entire time. I will take care of you. I will watch over you. I will set you free the moment you wish it. You understand?”
Wesley relaxed only a fraction at her words and was looking at her as if he could find some sort of confirmation in her very soul.
There was nothing more she could say, but expect him to uncover the truth and the trust she offered him.
“Yes, I know.”
Mac nodded slowly. “Can I blindfold you? Do you allow me to do it?”
“Yes.”
After she reached for the blindfold, she cupped his cheek and rubbed his set jaw. When he relaxed again, nuzzling her palm, she placed the blindfold on him, and sat back.
Wesley stayed eerily still, barely breathing. His head turned several times, as if to detect a sound from her. All she was waiting was for him to relax, if only for half a second, on his own, alone, without her touch or the comfort of her voice.
As he was fighting with himself, she battled with her expanding and volatile emotions for the man before her. She was at awe of his courage. Never in a million years would she allow anyone to do this to her. Not if she’d been that broken and raw from coming back from hell.
Wesley finally calmed down, although his breath remained rapid. A couple of times, he pulled at his bonds, to let them go a minute later. As he relaxed and leaned against the harness once again, Mac closed her eyes, thanking the heavens for their help.
She opened the box, retrieving a small pot of green gel. A creation of Lilianne’s, and a wicked one indeed.
When she moved to stand behind him, she must have made a sound as his head whipped around in her direction. She knelt and dipped a finger in the gel before tracing it along his spine, dragging a nail against his skin. He pushed against her touch. Then, she leaned closer and blew on the gel. Wesley arched away from her in a gasp. When Lilianne and Mac were discussing possible tactics, Lilianne suggested ice for sensory sensations, but with his scars, Mac was against the idea. This wasn’t her first choice. All natural, and almost the same effect, giving a sudden and intense feeling of burning cold, before turning to heat as it evaporated.
Now, Wesley was panting as he leaned back again. She dipped her finger and one by one, she started to trace his scars, first on his back, side, and arms. Each time she blew, each time he pulled away, twisting from the sensation before it evaporated.
Slowly she made her way to his front. When she followed the line of one of the ragged scars slashed on his taut abdomen and blew, she saw him hesitate, before coiling at the intense burning cold. Panting, his head turned, searching for her location, where she would attack next.
Mac wiped her hands to remove the gel and went once more into the box.
Wesley was tense, but not panicky. He was in a very high awareness mode, trying to anticipate her next move. However, she was sure he wouldn’t be able to foresee what could happen. A bottle of warm oil in her hand she walked around him a few times, and settled where she had begun. At his back, she opened it and slowly let the liquid trickle over his spine. His body clenched on contact until he realized it was soothing. Mac put the bottle down and started to rub the oil into the hard muscles, covering every scar, pushing him against the harness, each pressure deepening his state of relaxation.
Her hand kneaded his shoulder, switching to run her fingers though his hair. The moan that escaped his lips wasn’t censored in the least. His shield had finally dropped and with that knowledge, Mac almost wept in gratitude.
She lost track of time, releasing tension, one inch after the other. To keep him aware, she let her fingers scratched his skin before soothing it repeatedly with oil. Again, making her way around, she now knelt in front of him. At that moment, she realized the power she had over him, as he was lost in sensation, his mouth open, gasping for air, his body searching for her touch, desperate for it. Mac was surprised that it wasn’t power that made her giddy, but the humbled awe at the man, by his surrender and courage.
Her hands traced his neck and rubbed his cheek before training and massaging his pectorals, pressing harder over his abdomen. His body turned restless, his muscles quivering under her touch.
“Please.” His voice sounded foreign to her ears. And it was the first word he uttered that wasn’t a yes, or a groan.
“Tell me, Wes.” Her hands came back to his cheeks. At that moment, she wished to see his eyes. Not yet, she reminded herself.
“Please.” He repeated the words, his voice cracking, so low, so desperate.
“Voice it, Wes. Whatever you need. Whatever you want, you can trust me. We can go through it together.”
He pulled at his bounds again, whimpering, restless. “Touch me.”
Mac forgot to breathe as she understood his plea. But was she breaking some sort of unsaid barrier between them? Was she pushing too far? There was no time for questioning herself or the choice she made. It was about him.
Her hand drifted to his waistband and unfastened his jeans. Still restless, he moved constantly, pushing into her touch as much as his bounds allowed.
When she ultimately pushed his pants past his hips to free him, she wrapped a hand around his cock and he bowed out, the sound from him between pain and pure pleasure. She barely moved her hand as he pushed into her. Hot and rigid, she squeezed harder and he shattered quickly, coming into her hand, his body taut against his bounds as he rode the wave of his orgasm.
Easing the pressure, she felt him crumbling, undone. It started with him shaking hard. Swiftly, Mac removed his blindfold, taking him into a tight embrace. Sobs rattled Wes’s body, and the only thing she could do was cradle him, murmuring soft words, as pain poured out of him and tears slid down his face.
Chapter 16
It was impossible for Mac to sleep. Not after what happened, maybe never again. After Wesley had finally calmed down, she fastened his pants back up and cut all the ropes. His body slumped like jelly and it took all her strength to help him to the floor.
As Lilianne had instructed her, she made him drink plenty of water, and rubbed his skin where the rope had dug before covering him with a blanket. The dungeon wasn’t the best place to rest, but she couldn’t drag him back to his apartment yet. After a while, he fell asleep and she remained close. Not touching him, but close enough so she could keep her attention on him.
Questions and doubts twirled in her head, but she forced them back. He didn’t need doubts from her, not now. In fact, he was the only one knowing the outcome of all this.
So, she guarded him, until his eyes opened. Again, Mac stayed silent and perfectly immobile by his side until he was ready. Then, she helped him up, and draped the blanket across his shoulders as they went outside.
Dawn started lighting the sky when they finally emerged after spending the night locked in together, trying to free Wes’ inner demons. As she opened the door of his apartment, supporting half of his body upon herself, she hesitated. Her first instinct was to take his cue from him, but he was so closed up, it was impossible for her to tell. As Mac was about to back up and leave him alone, he caught her hand and pulled her behind him.
Mac realized that it was his lack of communication that was starting to frighten her. “Wes?”
He tugged at her hand and she almost stumbled, trying to keep up. In the bathroom, he removed his jeans, then her clothing. Now both naked, he dragged them under the hot shower. There was nothing sexual about it. He washed her and then him, before he wrapped her in a thick towel and carried her to the bed. He didn’t even care to dry off and only drew the covers on them both.
By the rhythm of his breathing, she realized he finally drifted off to sleep, holding her so close, not an inch of her back wasn’t
touching him. Mac had to admit, she was tired, bone weary and shaking inside. Her eyes closed, but slumber evaded her.
Instead, dread invaded every cell of her body, making it difficult to draw a breath. She should have listened to her brain and never done what she had did to him.
Time passed, and inch by inch, the arms of Wesley loosened around her, enough for her to slip away without awaking him. As she made her way out of the room, Mac snatched one of Wes’s T-shirt and his phone. One last look at his sleeping form clogged her throat as she closed the door.
By the time she made it to the kitchen, she was shaking non-stop, making it difficult to put on the gray T-shirt before she fumbled on his phone. After a third try, her fingers cooperated and she could dial Lance’s number. He answered on the first ring.
“Wes?”
At the sound of her friend’s voice, sobs poured out of her lips.
“Mac? Is that you? Where are you?”
His concern didn’t help to control her tears. All she could manage was to tell him she was at Owen’s apartment. Lance immediately disconnected the call and she slumped against the cabinets. He must have been close by, because he barged through the door less than five minutes later, gun blazing. When he assessed that she was unharmed and safe, he holstered his weapon and knelt in front of her.
“Are you okay, honey? Are you alone?”
Mac tried to smile, but she feared it must have looked more like a grimace. “I’m so sorry, Lance. I’m so sorry.”
She said it again and again through the tears. Lance sat beside her on the floor and took her in his arms, holding her tight as he gently rocked her. At some point, she could draw a complete breath and was able to talk more coherently.
“I’m so sorry, Lance.”
The concern on his face almost made her crack down again. “You keep saying that, but I don’t understand what for. And where is Wes?”
“It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have done it.”
“Done what?”
“I broke him, it’s my fault, I’m so sorry.”
“You’re making no sense, Mac.”
“Wes. It’s my fault. I hurt him, I broke him when I only wanted to help him.”
And she started to tell him about her plan, her lesson with Lilianne and how Wesley found her in the dungeon. She spoke about their discussion and how much he wanted to trust again. She skipped some details for Wes’s sake, but told him how she thought at first that they had made a breakthrough, and how he turned into that distant, cold machine again, even worse than before.
Lance listened, never stopping rubbing her back. The tears had receded, at last.
“I made a mistake in doing what I did. He needed so much more than that. He needed someone that could help him. I failed.”
“No. You didn’t fail.”
Mac jumped in Lance’s embrace as Wesley rounded the counter and crouched in front of her. Naked, except his loose pair of gray sweatpants, probably the one matching the T-shirt she was wearing, he looked at her in such a way, she wasn’t sure how to react.
Wesley gazed at his brother and put a hand on his shoulder before smiling. It was small and tentative, but it was there. It was now Lance’s turn to tense and swallow hard.
Then, his attention returned to her as he cupped her cheek, slowly stopping the fresh tears.
“You didn’t fail me. You saved me. After what you did, it was as if I was out of focus. I’m sorry if I frightened you, but I needed to return to my old self, to assimilate, to find myself again. I was desperate to sleep, to rest. And when I woke up, another piece was in place. You brought part of me back. It’s more than I ever hoped for. Thank you.”
Was she imagining the whole thing? The three of them on the kitchen floor? It felt almost like a dream. A wishful dream interrupted by an insistent buzzing …
Lance moved to get his phone, breaking the connection.
The conversion was beyond brief. When Lance hung up, it was obvious something bad had come up.
“Rodriguez had changed his plan. He’s in town, coming to the club tonight.”
Chapter 17
Mac was restless, walking around the dungeon room, dressed in a long, tight black leather dress only revealing her shoulder and her left thigh through a vertiginous slit. She thanked the heavens for it, otherwise there would be no way for her to walk on her own. Breathing was another challenge. As the cut favored her curves, it didn’t allow her for much more. Her red mane was hidden under a wig of blue-black hair, slick and barely touching her shoulders. Her face didn’t even resemble her own with the heavy make-up and blood-red lipstick.
Alone, she replayed Margot’s words of power in her head. On how control and her talent for reading people, their words and their bodies, would come handy. Mac still had trouble trusting herself finding the tempo between the pleasure and pain roller coaster required to rattle a submissive’s confidence until he willingly bursts open, pliant and offered.
Beyond her doubts, she was still upset about what happened with Wesley in that same room only hours ago. The cocoon had returned to its initial purpose, but she almost smelled the lingering odor of dripping wax from her candles and the oil warm against Wes’ skin. Once more, her thoughts turned to him, and his last words played in her mind.
As soon as Lance cut the call, everything happened fast. She went to take a quick shower before Margot arrived and started getting her ready. All the while, she discussed the setting, the possibilities, the implements. When Margot asked her if she was comfortable enough to use ropes if necessary, she told her no. No way was she ever touching that tool again, and certainly not against Rodriguez’s skin. Margot didn’t sense her change of energy and simply started talking about the other restraint devices available.
“Are you all right?” Margot hovered over her as she combed her wig.
Mac wasn’t sure if she would ever be able to utter that word again. But for her sake, she did.
“Yes. I’m okay.”
“You’re a bad liar, my dear.”
“Then, don’t ask questions.” Her answer seemed harsh, even in her own ears.
“Well, at least you’re using the right tone.”
Mac bit back another acidic remark. It was unfair to attack Margot because of her personal issues. As soon as Lance had revealed her identity to the trio, and asked for their help, they had all been incredibly cooperative.
Was she angry at what she had done? Or was she before she let herself care and took a risk? Or, worst of all, had she been sidetracked from her initial mission? That thought made her wince.
Mac became distracted when noises came from the hallway.
The door opened and Lilianne barged in, clad in her red latex pantsuit. Mac couldn’t help but admire the woman before her.
Lilianne cocked hips and smiled when she saw Mac. “Margot has outdone herself; the little baker hiding a super agent had turned into every submissive’s wet dream.”
Mac sighed. “The only wet dream I hope to be is Rodriguez.”
Margot smirked. “Don’t worry about that. Lance had made me read some of his emails and his tastes are rather classical, for our world I mean. Everything I have taught you will be useful. I don’t think you will need anything harsher. To get your bearings in a real-life situation. Don’t underestimate yourself, Mac, I dare say you have talent.”
Mac smiled. “It must come with being a mercenary, kicking people’s butts all the time.”
Lilianne shook her head. “No, I think it stems from your patience. You affirm you’re a sniper. You had to be exceptionally patient and controlled to succeed, and being able to trust your instinct and decide on your actions in a matter of seconds. Those are talents in our world, keep that in mind. I’ll go now. Good luck.”
Mac couldn’t find a suitable answer to her and smiled as the blonde woman walked out. She was treading on uneven and unstable grounds. Before coherent words formed in her brain, someone knocked at the door. Quickly, Lance poked his head in. When he
saw Mac, he blinked.
“Holy hell.”
Margot frowned, her fists on her hips. “That’s your best line? Holy hell?”
Lance came in and closed the door behind him. “Go easy on me. I can’t remember the last time women gave me a hard on.”
“If you’re here to make fun of me …” Mac tried to control the doubts rising inside of her.
Lance lifted his hands in an appeasing gesture. “No jokes. You both look sublime. Keep that annoyed frown and the man will follow you like a puppy.”
Margot shook her head, unconvinced. “I’m going to take my place at the control center.”
When Margot left, Mac returned into her own mindset for a moment.
