“You ready to learn how to be a happy hooker? The kind you don’t get arrested for being.”
Brita laughed. “I suppose. I hope I don’t suck at it.”
Gabe turned, meeting her gaze, and they both burst out laughing.
“That’s what she said,” Gabe teased.
Brita had done little except open the box from Amazon and check the contents, preferring to wait for Gabe’s instruction. Brita knew if she tried it on her own and got frustrated, she might never do it again.
Settling in the living room, Gabe kicked off her loafers and draped her blazer over a chair before getting comfy on the couch. As Gabe sat, Brita spotted the Glock in the holster on her hip, and an unexpected pang of melancholy hit her.
Shoving that aside, Brita was determined to learn this. Gabe explained some of the basics to her, showing her simple stitches and how to count, and what those stitches looked like in the context of a project in progress, as well as a finished one.
Gabe made it look easy.
The next step was for Brita to learn how to read a pattern. There’s where things got a little confusing, until Gabe worked through the pattern with her, stitch for stitch, and Brita finally started connecting the dots.
After three hours, Brita had a little crocheted, stuffed dolphin sitting on her coffee table.
“Those books have patterns for all sorts of stuff,” Gabe said. “Did you look through them?”
“No. I wanted to wait for you to show me.”
“If you forget how to do something, don’t hesitate to text me. I’ll also e-mail you a list of YouTube video links that are really good.”
“You make it look so easy.”
“It is easy, once you’ve made a few thousand of them. But don’t let it sit for weeks and wait to pick it up again. Try to do at least a few minutes every day. That way, it’ll stay fresh in your mind.”
“I will, thanks.”
They were wrapping up as Ethan came in. “Hey, how’d the lesson go?”
Brita held up the dolphin. “What do you think?”
“I think that’s pretty neat.”
* * * *
What was even neater was the pleased smile on her face. Despite that, Ethan was no idiot.
He knew damn well her car hadn’t been clean like that when he’d left that morning.
And she damn sure wouldn’t take it in to have it detailed. She hated to spend the money. She insisted on doing it herself, despite him trying to get her to not expend the energy and effort.
He got it, she wanted to be independent, but there were limits and there was such a thing as taking things too far.
Driving herself into the ground needlessly.
Once Gabe had said her good-byes and they’d seen her out, Ethan pulled Brita into his arms.
“Fess up.”
Her brown eyes went big and wide and she put on her best pouty face in an attempt to distract him.
About the only time she ever used that look on him. “About what?”
He lightly smacked her ass with his right hand. “You know what.”
She reached up to play with the buttons on his shirt. “Can I plead the fifth, copper?”
He knew his sigh wouldn’t go unnoticed by her. “B, baby, you’re going to kill yourself. If you don’t want to pay to have your car detailed, fine, but leave it until the weekends so I can do it for you, huh?”
“I did it.”
“And you’ll be hurting tomorrow, too.”
“Well…”
“What?”
“Alisse called earlier.” She explained it to him. “So I’ll be walking around.”
This time, he successfully stifled his groan of irritation. “And you’ll be in pain tomorrow.”
“It’s just walking.”
“And stress.”
“It’s Jordan’s class. I’m not going to tell them no.”
“And they’d still love you if you did. Honey, you’ve been pushing yourself way too hard lately.”
She pulled away from him. “Maybe I need to push myself more, huh? Maybe I’m not doing enough. Maybe that’s why I feel like I’m broken down and useless all the time.”
Tread. Carefully.
He regrouped and considered his next approach. They were in stormy waters, and he damn well knew it. He’d given up trying to get her to talk to someone about this, other than her GP, who wrote her a script for Xanax and Flexeril.
Most days, that was enough to get her through the worst of things.
He didn’t want to trigger her by trying to push her harder than she was ready to go, but he also knew she wasn’t taking care of herself by doing this. “So you’re saying I’m an idiot?”
She turned on him. “What?”
“You’re saying I don’t know my mind?”
“What? Ethan, what are you talking about?”
“Every time you put yourself down, you know what I hear? I hear you telling me that I’m an idiot. That you think I’m dumb for wanting to be with you.”
“I don’t think that at all! I’ve never thought that.”
“Okay, then. Trust me when I tell you I don’t see you as broken down. I see the woman who is the love of my life, and I feel helpless to help her when she won’t let me in.”
Yeah, cheap shots and low blows. He’d hate himself later.
It had the desired effect. It’d shaken her up and jolted her out of her headspace, put her off-guard.
Her shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry.”
Then he swooped in, holding her. “Please stop,” he gently said. “I don’t want your apologies, and I don’t want you beating yourself up. Throw a guy a bone, huh?” He tipped her chin up so she had to meet his gaze. “I ain’t independently wealthy, so I can’t stay home and take care of you like I’d like to. Let me have a few victories, huh? You let me take care of your car. I’m the guy, let that be a guy thing, okay? Please?”
And he offered her a bone. “You can do my laundry. I know you hate the way I fold towels. You’ll just redo them anyway like you do now.”
She finally laughed and buried her face against his chest. He relaxed, knowing he’d won that round.
“Fine,” she said, her voice muffled against his shirt. “I’ll agree to it before you break out the rubber hoses and bright lights.”
“You know darn well department policy says we have to use latex-free hoses now, B. Sheesh.”
The giggle was music to his heart and soul. This time, he waited for her to speak when she looked up at him and stared into his eyes.
“I just want to feel normal again,” she quietly said. “And I have a feeling this is my permanent normal. That sucks.”
“I know baby. I’d give anything to make you better. Meanwhile, I’ll do what I can, as much as you’ll let me.”
She nodded. “Deal.” She played with his shirt buttons again. “Sir.”
“Oooh, you’re teasing the beast, now.”
“Maybe I want to.”
He took another light swipe at her ass. “Is there meepin’ in my immediate future?”
“Maaaybe.”
He scooped her up into his arms as she squealed. Carrying her to the bedroom, he laid her on the bed before he loosened his tie. “I think maybe I want my meepin’ now, baby.”
He also knew if he waited, she’d likely be too tired, or in too much pain later.
Then she’d beat herself up over that, an endless cycle he knew all too well and had learned his own tricks to short-circuiting.
He hadn’t been particularly in the mood when he arrived home, but knowing he had a chance to make her happy?
That put the starch in his cock every time, stoked even more by hearing her saying that magic word.
Sir.
This delicate dance he did with her, he knew there were some in the BDSM community who might think they were playing around and not serious. People who didn’t understand her the way he did.
Who didn’t know all about her, or the emotional str
uggles she’d been through.
That she had the level of trust in him to even joke about it meant she trusted him.
To call him Sir?
Maybe she wasn’t some Gorean nymph, some diaphanous ideal of a “perfect” slave, but that wasn’t the kind of partner or submissive he wanted, anyway.
He wanted the real her, as much of herself as she’d give to him.
In any way he could have her.
Chapter Seven
Brita watched as Ethan loosened his tie and removed it. He knew she loved watching him undress. He draped it over the closet doorknob before removing his gun and locking it up. After kicking off his shoes and removing his socks, he started unbuttoning his shirt.
“Hey, someone else better be getting naked, baby,” he said.
She slipped off her shorts and panties and pulled the T-shirt over her head. She’d forgone a bra, already in enough pain without adding to it.
By the time he’d stripped off his briefs, she was glad to see his cock was well on its way to being hard. Maybe it was shallow of her, but it helped reinforce what he said, that he loved her and found her attractive.
A natural lie detector.
When he crawled into bed with her, he leaned in and kissed her, his arms braced on either side of her head. “What are you in the mood for, baby?”
“Maybe one notch up from bare minimum.”
He smiled, sliding down her body to engulf her left nipple in his mouth. She sucked in a breath, her hands grabbing his shoulders to hold him in place. He kept most of his weight off her as he teased and sucked it, grazing his teeth over it, until it was a hard, aching point. Then he switched to her right nipple and repeated the treatment, until her clit throbbed and sang and she knew if he fingered her that he’d find her wet and ready.
Then he turned around, stretching out and rolling her on top of him. His cock had fully hardened and she loved the soft gasp he released when she swallowed his shaft.
She loved going down on him, his taste, the feel of him, how vocal he was. Never afraid to show her how he felt, loving to make her moan in the process.
His hands cupped her ass, pulling her pussy down onto his mouth, devouring her in the good way. She soon found herself distracted and grinding against his face. Meanwhile, he started digging his fingers into the flesh of her ass, adding a delicious shard of the good kind of pain to make the pleasure that much sweeter.
Followed by a light slap, first to her right ass cheek, then the left, back and forth, until she was moaning and whining and sucking his cock down to the balls between breaths.
This was a familiar pattern for them, and one that she loved him desperately for. He knew how to read her body, how to keep her hovering, how to build her up and time it just right so that when he was ready to explode, so was she.
I haven’t married him yet…why?
Like this, feeling free beyond her body’s constraints for a few blessed minutes, she knew he absolutely was the love of her life.
It was on that thought that her climax exploded. When he heard her coming, he thrust his hips up, fucking her mouth and in two thrusts she was swallowing a hot load of cum straight from his balls.
She collapsed on top of him. No rush to make her move, he nuzzled the insides of her thighs, kissing her, not in that way to get her horny again, but tenderly.
Lovingly.
Letting his spent cock slide from her mouth, she said, “I think I’m done for the night.”
He gently rolled them over and swapped places again, gathering her in his arms. “How about you let Sir nuke the leftovers for us and we eat cuddled up in here tonight?”
“Yes, please, Sir. Thank you.”
Even calling him that felt right. And the more she did it, the righter it felt.
This wasn’t a fun game anymore. This was them, and she loved it.
She felt loved and protected but not smothered.
Never smothered.
“I love you, Sir.”
He kissed her forehead, the tip of her nose, her chin, then her lips. “I love you so much, baby. I wish I could open my brain and heart and show you.”
She smiled. “Then we’d need a coroner.”
That earned her a laugh. “This is one of the reasons I think we’re perfect together. We get each other’s humor.” His smile faded. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
This time she kissed him. “That was perfect. Exactly what I needed today.”
Only one time had she ever had to safeword, and that was because of a muscle cramp, nothing he’d done. She’d read that a good Dom or Top always stopped well before a bottom was ready for them to.
That description fit Ethan to a T. Yes, they were at a place she’d never imagined she’d ever trust someone enough to be, but they’d gotten there slowly, a single step at a time.
It was that much sweeter a journey for it.
When his stomach rumbled, she untangled herself from him. “I heard that.”
“I’ll be right back.” Naked, he climbed out of bed and headed for the kitchen.
He had a great ass and thighs, too.
Ethan wasn’t a gym rat, but he stayed in shape, between biking and yard work. Sometimes, for large events, he volunteered to take shifts for extra pay with the sheriff’s office bike squad.
And after eight years together, he could still dampen her panties by blowing her a kiss, or winking a blue eye at her.
She heard him in the kitchen, the sound of the microwave, and a few minutes later, he was back with her plate and a glass of water for her.
“Where’s yours?”
“It’s heating. I wanted to get yours for you.”
When he leaned in to hand her the plate, she reached up and cupped his cheek. “So we’ll talk this weekend? About me moving in?”
He met her gaze for a long moment, then set the plate and glass on the bedside table so he could sit on the edge of the bed.
“Baby, I love you. Early on, we had this discussion. You told me you didn’t want me pressuring you. So I’ll say it again—you tell me.”
She nodded, thinking. “Let’s work out the logistics this weekend about the finances, and then by the start of next month let’s get me moved in with you. Please?”
For a second, it looked like he was going to cry. He pulled her in for a long, deep kiss. “Yes, baby. Absolutely. Thank you.”
* * * *
Something about Brita felt…different tonight. Ethan couldn’t put his finger on what, exactly. But he sensed a shift of the good kind in her.
No, he’d never pressure her. But he’d take every inch she gave him and gladly wait for more.
She glanced down at his right thigh, where an old scar from a bike fall when he was a teenager curled up the front of his leg. Her fingers traced it, something she liked to do. Just like he loved kissing her scars, proving to himself she’d survived and was alive and well in his arms and it wasn’t a dream. That he didn’t lose her that day on the stoop, that the bullet didn’t take her from him.
She was real and his.
“I’m probably going to want to rearrange the kitchen stuff.”
“That’s fine.”
“And you know I’ve always hated the wallpaper in the guest bathroom.”
“You can sit and watch me peel it off and then I’ll paint it whatever color you choose.” It’d come with the house and he’d never had time, energy, or focus to remove it.
Especially when he’d been renting it, then bought it and closed on it.
Then Brita had been shot four months later, shoving everything else to the periphery in his life.
“How will we move the gun safes?”
“We have an army of friends.”
“You’ll have to help me fill out all my federal paperwork for change of address and stuff. Help me make sure I don’t miss anything or screw it up.”
Sometimes, she had brain fogs that accompanied her worst pain days, which were also usually accompanied by anxiety. Not as often
as in the early days, but he expected there to be stress and an adjustment period.
Just like he knew the real reason she didn’t want to sell the condo was to have it as a safety net. An escape hatch.
A place of her own if she needed it.
Even if she didn’t want to admit it to herself. Brita’s mom had told Ethan she didn’t even think Brita consciously thought that, but it’d be a natural thing, a nesting instinct. Security.
The first home she’d bought for herself, not needing anyone’s help, in her name alone.
Knowing what he knew about her high school days, and what her parents and sister didn’t, he suspected that was more accurate than her mother even knew.
He also knew he was the only person who got to see this vulnerable side of her, laid open and raw like this. Not even her sister got this deep a view of her weakness.
“Baby, whatever you need me to do to make this happen, that’s what I’ll do. We’ll have Jim help us go through it.” He ran the gun shop she worked out of part-time.
She continued to trace his scar. “I’m scared.”
“Of me?”
“Of screwing us up.”
“We’ll take this at your speed. Would you feel better just moving your clothes first? A little at a time?”
He felt the tear hit his thigh before he realized she was crying.
That’s when he made her look at him. “What’s wrong?”
“You always say the perfect thing. Have I wasted years we could have been living together because I was scared?”
“I don’t think of our time as wasted. I’ve always been here. I’m always going to be here. I knew eventually you’d catch up to me. I had faith in you. Always have, always will.”
A tearful snort escaped her. “Last chance to back out.”
He shook his head. “Not happening. Not unless you tell me to leave.”
Another long, slow series of nods. “I could always hold off doing the paperwork changes for a few months until I have my name changed. So I don’t have to refile them twice.”
It took him a moment to understand exactly what she meant.
Now he was afraid he might really start crying.
“You tell me.”
Pretzel Logic Page 6
