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She enjoyed having him in her mouth, and devoted every scrap of energy she had left to giving him as much pleasure as she could. His thighs flexed, his hips pushing up to shove deeper into her mouth as his movements began to simulate the act that had her own hips shifting restlessly against her calves. Sex was so casual now, something people often decided to do on a first date. But nothing felt casual with Logan. He'd even said that wasn't going to happen tonight, no matter what she did, underscoring that it had significance. It had to be earned.
As a result, she put all her effort into teasing him into a higher and higher state of arousal, reveling in the bruising grip of his hand as it became even more aggressive, pushing her down on him. His breath rasped, his body jerking as he started to tip over that edge. She made an encouraging plea against his cock and closed her eyes, triumphant, when that vein pumped under her grip, a harsh groan tearing from his lips.
He came, jetting to the back of her throat, and she sucked, licked, swallowed, not allowing herself to flag, stimulating him to the very end. Until his grip tightened for different reasons, telling her to ease off.
As she obeyed, slowing her pace, he released her hair to stroke it. There was an initial clumsiness to his movements as he had to find coordination again. It felt good that way, more balanced. It also felt good when, after tucking himself back into his jeans, he lifted her under the arms and put her back into his lap. He pressed his jaw against her temple as she curled her hands in his shirt. Picking up the remote, he made a grumbling noise at her.
"Now I'm going to have to go back three scenes. I lost my place, thanks to you."
She snuffled a laugh against him, and he squeezed her. Quiet ensued as they both recovered, as she listened to the thunder of his heart go back to a steady thump, thump and she tasted him on her lips, in her throat.
"I was jealous of her," she said softly.
The room went quiet as he hit mute. He didn't say anything, though, just kept stroking her hair. Giving her the courage to say out loud what she'd only said to herself.
"I was hurting, and jealous, and I couldn't be around someone so loving when all the love had dried up inside me. I don't think I'll ever stop regretting that. Two years passed in a blink, like no time at all. I thought there'd be time, you know. If I'd been here more often . . ." The hard truth was bitter in her mouth. "I'm eaten up by the idea of her dealing with this without me, when I should have been here. Sometimes I'm so angry at her, as if she hid the truth from me to get back at me for withdrawing from her. Isn't that the most petty thing ever? Because she never stopped being Alice during those months. She sent me birthday gifts, emails, texts, called faithfully every week, no matter how bitchy I was with her. That made me angry, too. God . . . sometimes I wished she would stop contacting me at all so it wouldn't all feel so one-sided. I was so fucking stupid."
That horrible sense of inadequacy welled up like the sticky frustration of a hot, humid day, regret that could never be purged. She was too vulnerable to its power right now, and yet when she tried to push away, give herself some space, Logan merely flexed his arms around her, keeping her in place.
"Ssh," he said. "No. You're not going into that spot in your head. There'll be a time and place to clean out that room, but it's not tonight. Let it go for now, Madison. She loved you, and you loved her, and sometimes love is difficult. That's all. Breathe. Breathe. Focus on what I want from you right now. Tell me what you told me a few minutes ago. Tell me how you saw yourself."
She breathed, twitched, breathed some more. For a moment, that wave of tangled, angry emotions surged back up again, making her struggle once more, but his arms, his inflexible will, was stronger than hers. She found it was a relief beyond measure.
"I was yours," she said at last. A bare whisper.
"Yeah." He eased his hold as she let herself relax, one tense muscle at a time. "It quieted the voices, didn't it? The bad emotions, the good, it all evened out, like a boat going from chop to a smooth current?"
It was a good description. "How . . . does it do that?"
"A lot of subs are worriers. OCD types, overly analytical. They get mired in their emotions. You ever try to meditate?"
She made a face. "Alice would meditate like she was on the moon, floating through space, and I'd peek at her through my lashes, wondering how she could do that. All while wishing I could move so my knees and back would stop their primal screaming."
His lips curved at that. "For someone with your personality, subspace is your form of meditation."
When her brow creased, he shifted beneath her, adjusting her position on his lap so they were both more comfortable. "When I was in the Army, we went into a lot of hairy situations. Saw things that were hard to see. Afterwards, each guy had to figure out a way to deal with it. Everyone copes differently, but the common theme is finding a way to still the voices. There are good ways and bad ways to do that. I found that, no matter where I was, there would always be some quiet place, even if it didn't seem that way. The middle of a mall can be a quiet place. The cushion around you is the key, whether that cushion is anonymity or someone's arms."
He tightened them again, a reminder. "I'd find a patch of woods behind a shack where we were holing up. Or it would be first thing in the morning in the desert, that twilight moment right before the sun starts coming up to heat the sand. I could stand in those places, those moments, shut everything else down and feel how the world was so much vaster than my petty shit or even what had us all there. Whatever big Thing is out there, knows all of it. And it's okay, because when you find that quiet place, you know it's okay, too. Or how to make it better."
He touched her face. "Alice knew, Madison. She hurt for you, prayed for you. The one thing she wanted me to make absolutely sure you knew was that she never doubted your love for her. Never. Sometimes she was mad at you, too, for not pulling your head out of your ass. And at herself, for not being able to figure out how best to help you. That's the bitch about getting trapped in our own pain. We tend to forget other people are dealing with their day-to-day shit at the same time. On first look, maybe that makes you feel like crap, but I'm thinking it might make it a little better, too, when you think about it from the right place. She never lost that connection, but more importantly, she never thought you had, either. She knew you loved her. She had no doubt at all when she called you that you would come."
"Crap." She tried to brush away the tears that escaped from her eyes, but he beat her to it, his fingertips gentle on her face. "But I was too late."
"No. Because here you are, reconnecting with her again. She's as close as the nearest memory."
Madison swallowed. "I'm so glad she had you, Logan. But I also hate you for it in a way. A kind of projected self-loathing, if that makes sense."
"Yeah." He rubbed her back. "You have a lot of regret. Guilt. Things that weigh you down, make it hard for you to trust yourself. It makes it difficult for you to let go, except when you're pushed. Hard."
She sighed, gave him a rueful look. "Is that how you're justifying your sadistic side, Mr. Scott?"
"Mr. Scott. I like that." He gave her a wicked grin, but he stroked her jaw. "That night with Troy, I showed you what it's like to watch another give up control. You were so eager and absorbed, I couldn't resist pulling you into it. Tonight I showed you how it feels with no intermediary, when you give me your trust. But you haven't learned about pain. Where it can take you, what it can show you, about yourself. What it can open up."
When Logan had been whipping Troy with the strap, the young man had shuddered against her, his cock hard and eager against her thigh, his eyes glazed, as if he'd been catapulted to a perfect place. Being bound and blindfolded tonight had stilled those voices, as Logan said. Could she trust him enough to take her to such an extreme step? Maybe not, but she trusted him enough to ask the next question, tentatively crack the door.
"I'm afraid to ask, but what did you have in mind?"
"I think you know what I have in mind, just as I think it's best for me not to give you all the details of it."
