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Barbara, the other waitress delivered their meals, and the laden plate she put in front of Nan looked so appetizing, her stomach rumbled in appreciation. “Enjoy you two,” she said as she refilled their water glasses before shuffling off to the next table.
Someone cranked up the old-fashioned juke box as she dug into the mound of steaming, gravy smothered potatoes. “Oh, God, there’s nothing like freshly made mashed potatoes.”
Dan scooped up a large forkful of the creamy spuds. “Or French fries or hash browns. Clyde mentioned once he’s here slicing and dicing potatoes by four every morning.”
“Mmmm, remind me to kiss him in gratitude before we leave.”
His lips twitched as he replied, “I’ll do that.” Cutting into a juicy, breaded chicken strip, his gaze sobered as he resumed his questioning with a frown. “You went to his place that night?”
“No,” she returned sharply. “I wasn’t that stupid. I agreed to meet him for coffee the next morning, at a bistro where we sat outside. We spent the entire next day touring the French Quarter and no, he didn’t give off any strange vibes, not until I agreed to dinner at his mansion the following night.”
Just thinking about that evening sent a wash of shame and remembered fear through her. Her throat went dry and she reached for the water, only to stop short of taking a drink when the tiny pulses resumed. “Jesus, Dan,” she moaned, gripping the glass and taking a fortifying gulp. Every time he teased her with the toy, her frustration and ache for more inched up another notch.
“I want all of you here, with me, hon, not your mind back there.” He turned the vibrator off as soon as she set the glass down and nodded. “Good girl.” The simple praise warmed Nan where the cold had begun to return. “E
at before we continue. I don’t want you getting too distracted or upset before you’re full. Gertie was right. You’ve lost too much weight.”
Nan scowled, irritated at the reminder, but their long friendship kept her from taking it personally. Biting into the juicy, breaded chicken, she glanced around at the lunch crowd, hoping he wouldn’t delve much deeper with his questions while they were here. Nobody could hear them in the corner, with the music playing and noisy conversations echoing, but that didn’t mean she wanted to tell him about Gerard’s evil side with others so close, or even today.
Chapter 8
Dan didn’t care for the way Nan’s face paled with his questions, or for the slight tremor in her fingers, and thought it best to table further inquiries until after they left the diner. Whatever memory had distracted her was enough to cause her distress, and that bothered him on a level he’d never experienced before. He caught signs of the woman he remembered whenever she teased him or refused to kowtow to him as she might at the club. She’d always given back as good as she gave, and he liked that about her. Which is why it hurt to see her cowed over a bad memory, and why his gut tightened in anger on her behalf.
Still, as he signaled for the check, he needed to know more before they got together at The Barn, with luck, this weekend. “Lunch is on me,” he insisted when she reached inside her purse. “I asked you out.”
In a flash, that spark of independence returned with her frown and tight jaw, amusing him. “That’s not the way we’ve ever done it, and you know it.”
Pushing back, he stood and took the check from Barbara with a thank you before grasping Nan’s elbow as she slid out of the booth. “That was then and this is now. Don’t argue with me.”
She rounded on him as soon as they stepped outside. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means, when you agreed to let me help you get past the mental block that fucking asswipe is responsible for, things changed, at least temporarily, between us.”
“I didn’t think you meant to take it that far. Preferring to pay my own way hasn’t changed because of what happened. The only thing that has suffered has been my ability to…” She floundered and looked away from him as they strolled down the sidewalk.
It was the first time Dan could ever recall seeing her at a loss as to how to express herself, and another grip clenched his abdominals. “Let’s discuss your inability to submit fully, to immerse yourself in the kinky activities you’ve always embraced and enjoyed. Answer one more question for me,” he commanded in a tone he usually reserved for the club. She flicked him a wary glance out of those gold eyes as they reached the tea shop but didn’t say anything. “Why didn’t you undress for Masters Greg and Devin last weekend?”
Panic flared in her eyes, darkening them to the color of an old penny. Nan started to turn away, reaching for the door, but he turned her around with a firm grip of her chin, holding her face up to his. “No. Don’t turn from me, don’t hide and don’t keep it inside. If you do, I’ll walk away, and you can cope on your own.” He didn’t mean it; he doubted if anything could motivate him to let her work her way through this without him now.
A myriad of emotions crossed her face; alarm followed by testiness and then resignation before the tight set to her mouth softened and her lips curved in a way that caused his heart to roll over. “You always did know what buttons to push, Master Dan, you rat bastard.”
No matter how much he wanted to, Dan refused to smile at the taunt as he released her chin and settled his hat on his head. “And don’t forget it. Well?”
She turned serious, sucked in a deep breath and blurted the last thing he expected her to say. “I have scars, two, and I wasn’t… hey! Shit, what’s wrong?”
Dan shook his head, noticing how he’d gripped Nan’s upper arms, not tight enough to hurt, but fast enough to startle her. Biting hot fury whipped through him like an out-of-control wildfire, burning like acid and leaving him seeing red. The fucker beat her bad enough to break skin, draw blood, leave permanent damage? He couldn’t concede it, couldn’t fathom how anything so horrendous had befallen her and he hadn’t known about it, hadn’t been there to stop it, or help afterwards. Dropping his hands, he stumbled back, afraid his touch would trigger a God-awful memory, and he wouldn’t be able to handle that.
“You can tell me the rest later,” he rasped. There was no way he could take hearing anything else right now, not and stay sane. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the remote to the stimulator. “If you don’t have plans this afternoon, come out to my place. You can give Belle her first lesson on a lead. Here.” He flicked the toy on high and handed her the remote, watching as the jolt of pleasure shocked her into gasping a deep breath. “It’s yours, a gift. See you in a little while.”
He spun on his heel, needing an outlet for the aggressive wrath consuming him, threatening his control to the breaking point.
The shocked fury darkening Dan’s face followed Nan as she dashed upstairs. She hadn’t been ready to tell him about her scars or prepared for his volatile reaction. The memory of how she’d gotten them had cooled her body, but the spasming damp heat from the rapid, strong pulses beating against her clit wiped it away just as fast. But nothing could erase his stunned rage on her behalf as he’d grasped the extent of her ordeal.
She didn’t want to tell him anything else, but also didn’t want to disappoint him again, because she suspected now he would demand to know everything. The guilt over shutting everyone out for so long, including Dan, was enough to live with, and to make up for. He hadn’t pushed her into agreeing to his proposal, just dangled an irresistible reward in front of her, so she would finish the sordid, horrific tale when he insisted.
By the time Nan reached her apartment and closed the door behind her, she’d shoved aside the image of Dan’s face to concentrate on the arousal building to a feverish pitch from the butterfly. Leaning against the door, she slid a hand inside her panties, her knuckles brushing the wet crotch as she fretted over losing the lovely sensations before they could expand into a climax. She hadn’t been this close to an orgasm is so freaking long, it was a wonder she didn’t explode as soon as he had attached the vibrator.
She gave herself a pleasurable moment to slide under the butterfly and trace over her puffy, damp labia before working her way inside her slick sheath. Swollen, damp inner muscles clamped around her finger as her throbbing clit set off the first small contractions. Shuddering on a deep moan, she stroked in time to the pulses, relishing the gush of cream as the spasms increased in intensity and speed. Slamming her eyes shut, she gyrated and rode her finger, whimpering as an orgasm burst. Sparks of pleasure traveled up from her gripping pussy, tightening her nipples, drawing beads of perspiration and enveloping her mind in a nice, fuzzy euphoria.
