Chapter 32

Razz

By the time I reach the Upper Hand, my mind is numb. I’ve tried and failed too much in my life to care at this point. Being numb is a feeling I won’t accept and hopefully, a little physical pain will click my mind back into gear. I need to be strong for my kids and myself. Fuck everyone else. I tried for them and failed. I loved wholeheartedly and didn’t receive the same in return.

I sit at the bar sucking down a margarita that Mike just served me. Liquor isn’t what I need since it’s a numbing agent as well. Numbing rational thought and invading my mind with tidbits of doubt. Self-doubt’s a motherfucker.

I slide off of the barstool and thank Mike for my drink before heading to my room. Entering my safe haven, the scents of lavender oil and leather relax me. I lie on my back in the middle of the bed and stare at the ceiling. Mind whirling, heart aching and eyes all dried out, I put my future in perspective. The kids and I can move to Florida permanently. Leaving Cumming behind will leave all my disappointments and regrets with it. Out of sight, out of mind. Yeah that shit won’t be effective.

What feels like minutes of pondering must’ve been hours as I hear the door click. I don’t lift my head. I know its Beanie. He’s been my rock and my confidant. He’s never judged me and he definitely has never accused me of wishing a fate on someone I had no control over.

The sound of footsteps coming closer to the bed interrupts my thoughts. I listen and gauge what will happen next. Anticipation can be a thrill, a gut-twisting-what’s-happening-next thrill. It’s been months since I’ve anticipated someone else’s actions other than Sadie’s and it is wanted.

I want to wake up tomorrow and this day be a distant memory, but that’ll never happen.

“Razz.” The familiar voice growls, but not Beanie’s. Trigger’s. “Get up and get on your knees.” He commands. Tingles run down my spine at Trigger’s demands, but the hostile look on his face makes them dissipate. “Now, Razz.” I do as I’m told and kneel in front of him. “You left.” Not a question so I don’t respond. “Without letting me know where you were going. That’s unacceptable.” He strolls to the closet that holds all my kink and rifles through it. He comes to me with rope and the flogger that Mal gave me for my birthday. “Stand, strip and turn around.” I stand, swivel so my back is to him and quickly discard my clothes without any bravado. “Hands behind your back.” I quickly do as told. “While we were separated and you were in Florida, I had Beanie teach me a few tricks, so that when you came home we’d be able to play. I found that I liked the coarseness of the rope against my hands and all the ways I could wrap, intertwine and bind you.” He tugs on my wrist and the sensation of the coarse rope around my wrist tightening is so consuming I moan. “He, also, showed me how to read a woman’s body when it came to flogging. I know how much you want it and when you’ve had enough.” He whispers the last part against my ear, kisses my shoulder and his warmth disappears. He releases my wrists and they collide with my ass. “Turn and kneel.” And I do with my eyes blazing into his. “We’re going to talk about today and how we both failed each other, but first, I’m going to give you what you crave and then you are going to give me what I desire.” I nod. “Words, Razz.”

“Yes, sir.” I croak.

“Stand and walk to the center of the room.”

“Yes, sir.”

He comes to my side when I’m in position and lifts one roped wrist with a hoop near my hand and slides it on the hook. He proceeds to do the same with the other, lifting and hooking. When I am at his mercy, he picks up the flogger he discarded on the bed and I watch as he runs his fingers through the leather strips.

“What’s your safe word?”

I think for a mere second longer than Trigger thinks I should and it earns me a strike of the flogger sending my body to tighten, heat and relax.

“Rocky.” I whimper.

“As you wish.”

The strikes come in quick succession, never giving my mind or body time to catch up. He alternates from my back, ass, thighs and stomach with light brushes against my breast. He’s constantly rambling, but I’m only coherent enough to pick up on bits and pieces, never enough to catch a complete thought. Subspace is blissful escape. The only thought is desire, need and release.

One last stroke of the beaded leather strips against the bundle of nerves between my thighs sends me into a frenzy. My body quakes and shivers as my orgasm rushes through me and a loud groan escapes my lips as I feel the wetness descend down my thighs.

Trigger picks me up by my hips and I instinctively wrap my legs around him as he releases my wrists from the hooks. He places each arm around his neck and moves toward the bed where he gently places me down on the edge.

His eyes have changed from anger to heat. He places my legs against his chest as he stands. His eyes never leave mine. He grips the base of his cock and tugs once. He steps close to the bed and rubs the head of his cock through my slick heat coercing a moan. He presses into me one slow inch at a time, stretching me and filling me until all I feel is him.

He pulls out leaving just the tip. “You wanted to be punished, so now I’m going to punish your pussy.” He doesn’t give me a chance to answer before he’s thrusting so hard the bed is scratching and scooting across the floor. “I love you.” He groans. “This is us.” He says softly as he looks deep into my eyes.

“I love you too.” I whimper as I feel the warmth of my tears gliding from my eyes to my hair.

He pounds and chastises my pussy with his cock for what seems like eternity until he reaches down and rubs my nub furiously coaxing my orgasm to crest and erupt. I tighten around him throwing my head back and gripping the sheets in my fist as I scream his name. In, out, in out and then he stills exploding inside me eliciting a tiny quiver as he slams a final time bumping my cervix.

I instantly miss our connection as he pulls out of me and collapses beside me.

Still panting, I roll to face him waiting for the next blow, but all I get is a wide smile and his rough calloused hand sweeping the hair out of my face. “We need to talk about today.” I remind him. He grunts and his hand drops. “You said it yourself that we need to talk.”

“We do, but my conversation is probably completely different than the one you want to have with me.” He huffs and sits up maneuvering so that his back hits the headboard. “I should’ve stood up for you when Banshee was running at the mouth. I’m sorry for that, but I didn’t catch on to what all was said until it was too late. With that said, you shouldn’t have left.” My blood starts to heat with my rising anger. “Calm down. I mean you shouldn’t have left the parking lot. You should have waited for me. You should’ve allowed me the time to process and come to you.” He shakes his head. “Today was a shit-storm. Emotions were high and confusion was up there too. I went from thinking I had a possible kid on the way to none. I went from relief that Sadie could no longer touch us to remorse for the fact she was gone and she wouldn’t be able to watch Lyla grow. What Banshee said isn’t true at all. It’s the biggest pile of bullshit I’ve ever heard. If it wasn’t for you, we’d have been blindsided a long time ago and the outcome could have been a lot worse than just one person losing their life or being incarcerated. Nobody doubts you, Razz and you need to stop doubting yourself too.”

“Sorry.” I mumble. “The situation today allowed my insecurities to take over, but I, also, felt like I was alone again. I did what I am used to doing, running and hiding.”

“No more running and hiding. We’re in this together and the next time I don’t speak up for you, I give you permission to junk punch me.” I giggle. “I’m not perfect and the only relationship I have to go on is the one I had with Sadie. We both know that was one-sided, so sometimes I’m going to need directing.”

“Okay.” I grumble as I crawl to his side and lay my head on his chest. “But, I’m kind of liking the thought of junk punching you.”

“You would.” He says into my hair as his body vibrates with his laughter.

The sound of Trigger’s cell going off to Sweet Home Alabama breaks us from our moment and reiterates that reality outside of this room goes on.