Chapter Seventeen
‡
“Don’t be so nervous.”
Hart yanks at his shirt collar as if it’s strangling him, even though it fits perfectly. I made sure it would. “You want to look as if you belong here? I can help you with that.” And I had.
There had been a great deal of satisfaction in watching him get all dressed up, showing off that fine body of his in clothes that actually fit properly. Not that I can’t appreciate the curve of that ass in thrift store jeans, but there’s something about the way wool drapes… Had it been any surprise we’d ended up going at it in the dressing room? No. Not to me anyhow. If Allie had been anything more than a little taken aback, he hadn’t shown it. Just let me use him and then play dress-up some more.
He turns his head and narrows his eyes. “Easy for you to say. They’re your friends.”
I put my hands on his shoulders and smooth the sleeves down his arms, gripping the hard muscles in a way that soothes him. “That’s right. My best friends. Which is why you shouldn’t be nervous. You think I would be close with a bunch of assholes? I do business with some giant turd blossoms, I grant you, but that’s business. This is pleasure. Speaking of pleasure…”
His head turns in a way that’s too quick to be casual. Wary. “Yeah?”
“There’s the possibility there will be some play after dinner. Are you comfortable with that?”
The way his eyes get bigger, showing the stark white almost all the way around his dark irises, could mean either hell, no or hell, yes. His verbal response is more measured. They usually are. “Do you mean being there while it happens or participating?”
“Either.”
“Isn’t it rude to just watch?”
“No. You’ve been invited, but there are no expectations. And Glory’s a bit of an exhibitionist. She’ll like it.” Like it is an understatement. She’ll be ecstatic, and an ecstatic Glory is something to behold. She’s so frigging cute I want to squeeze her until she pops and a shit-ton of glitter and confetti pops out.
“Would you…would you share me?”
Ah. So that’s what he was concerned about. “I wasn’t planning on it. Why? Is that something that interests you?”
He tugs at his collar again, and his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “Maybe.”
“By that you mean ‘yes’ but it makes you uncomfortable to say so?” There’s a tic in his jaw that says I hit the bullseye. Interesting. “That could be arranged, although this isn’t really the right crowd. Constance and Cris are both good enough to top almost anyone, but they both prefer women for kink. And for sex, for that matter.”
“What am I supposed to call them?”
“At dinner? First names are fine; you’ll be introduced. Would you like to go by Hart, Allie, or something else?”
He hesitates, and though it could be for myriad reasons, it makes me…happy. He didn’t reflexively say Hart. Which means he thinks enough of me and my assurances he might consider these strangers his friends, sight unseen, because my word is enough.
A vision of the six of us laughing around a dining table comes into my head, and suddenly there are few things I want more in this world. Of course I’ve been to these dinners and other events with endless permutations of people. Constance and India have been the most frequent faces, and since Glory arrived on the scene, her compact body’s been bouncing in a seat next to Constance. In my mental map, once Hunter had vacated the seat next to India—or had rather been shoved out of it—it had been noticeably empty until Cris filled it.
Matthew is generally my companion of choice, but I’ve never allowed myself that same sense of permanence as India and Constance have with their partners. So aside from polite interest in making sure this evening isn’t an incredibly awkward affair and that conversation flows, I should keep out of my mind how I think Allie will fit in with the rest of the crew. How he’ll enjoy Glory’s boundless enthusiasm and gentle teasing, how I’m guessing he and Constance will be able to talk about better ways for HUD to support current and former military personnel, and how if he gets a taste of Cris’s cooking, he’ll never leave me. We’ll see how he does with India. She can be an acquired taste—one some people never acquire.
“Allie’s fine.”
Though on the inside I’m breaking into a goofy grin, I keep my neutral expression on the outside because it would have been totally fine for him to say Hart. I wouldn’t have been disappointed. Not even a little bit. Because this is temporary. As long as Allie’s my charge, I’ll care for him the best way I know how, and hopefully by the time he leaves, he’ll be in a position to know what to look for in his next partner. That will be thanks enough.
“And for later?” I leave the “during playtime” left unsaid, because his wide open, unblinking eyes tell me he knows exactly what I mean. His teeth sink into his bottom lip briefly before he makes his call.
“Would it be a dick move to say Allie?”
“Not at all.”
“Am I supposed to be all ma’am and sir and shit?”
I want to laugh, but I swallow it. He can speak to me like this, but I don’t necessarily want to encourage it. Not setting a good example for the next Dominant he might encounter.
“You’ll need to be respectful, of course, but you haven’t signed on to any protocols with anyone but me. Neither Cris nor Constance stand much on ceremony, either.” One of the reasons we get along so well, to be honest. I can see the pleasure to be gleaned in the hard lines and strict demands of formal protocol, and I’m happy to teach it, but it’s not my personal hot spot. “India will be addressing us as ‘sir’ and ‘mistress.’ Glory will be calling me ‘sir’ and Constance ‘mistress.’ I’m not sure how she’ll address Cris. They haven’t spent a great deal of time together. It’s all negotiated, nothing’s set in stone.”
“They’re all going to play?”
“Maybe. I can’t say for sure.”
“Will you?”
“You mean with someone other than you?”
He nods, and a small line forms between his brows.
“I might. Unless you don’t want me to. Then I wouldn’t.”
“Just like that?”
His tone is suspicious, and I don’t like it at all. I take his shoulders in my hands again and squeeze, digging the tips of my fingers into his flesh, seeking out nerves to inflict a sensation that will make him gasp. I’m met with success. “Since when have I ignored a request of yours outside of a scene where that was part of the game? Ever?”
He squirms in my grip, but I don’t let go. If anything, his movement is inflicting more pain. He doesn’t stop, I’m guessing because he’s finding pleasure and comfort in the feeling. “Never, sir.”
“I’m not going to start now. You can decide after you’ve met them if you want, and you can always change your mind. Rule number one, Hart.” I release him and smooth the fabric I’ve mussed. Can’t have him showing up all wrinkled. We’ll save the disheveling for later. For now, I know he’ll feel better, more at ease, if he looks his best. “You never have to do anything you don’t want to do.”
“Yes, sir.”
*
We arrive at the restaurant and are promptly escorted to the private dining room in the back. I don’t always dine privately, but sometimes it’s nice to be able to discuss your full range of interests and I’ve never felt truly comfortable doing that in public spaces. Mostly because I don’t care to make innocent bystanders any less innocent.
My foot has barely crossed the threshold when I’m assaulted by a brightly colored bouncy ball. Glory’s flung herself at me, her plump arms circled tight around my neck and her legs wrapped tight around my hips. “Rey! I missed you!”
I hug her tight to me, enjoying the way she always thrums with energy and how good she smells. Her long black hair holds the scent of whatever shampoo she uses, and tonight it’s falling down her back. Apples. Not Granny Smiths or a mealy red delicious though. Pink Lady. That’s the type of apple she smells like.
“I missed you too, my apple-cheeked wonder.”
“Glory, get down. Exhibit a little decorum, please.”
Constance’s gentle scolding has the intended effect; Glory loosens her grip and slides down, her rosebud mouth pursed in reluctant contrition as she takes a step back. “Sorry.”
“No need to apologize to me,” I say, chucking her on her chin, and she breaks into the smile I knew was lurking beneath. “Besides, you know Constance just wanted to get in on this action herself.”
Constance shakes her head, but does in fact envelope me in her arms. Hugging Constance always feels slightly combative, as if affection is a full-contact sport. I suspect outside of India and Glory, she doesn’t get much physical contact, and though she enjoys it, it still makes her uncomfortable. I understand, and I think that’s why I’m one of the few other people who’s permitted this intimacy. I hold her tight and pound her on the back, lest this feel too sweet. Don’t want my permit getting revoked for hugging like a wuss.
She pulls back, and if I didn’t know her so well, I wouldn’t think anything of the sheen in her eyes. I’ll make sure to talk to her later in case I’m right.
Cris is next and offers me a hand and a smile. It’s genuine, so he’s happy to be here, happy to be around people he knows, trusts. Good. He still looks worn, not quite like his top-form self, but better than the last time I saw him, which was in Kona for Mal’s funeral. Definitely better. The dark smudges under his eyes are lighter, his skin isn’t so dulled by grief. He’s still hurting, but not in never-ending agony. Cris isn’t a difficult man to read because he never had to be, but I ask him anyway, because people tend to not like it when you can glean every detail you need to know without them opening their mouths.
“How’re you doing?”
He nods, considering, and shifts his weight, thoughtful. “Better.”
“Good. Glad to hear it.” I am. I like to see people in pain, but not that kind and not him. He’s a good man, and he deserves to be happy. Besides, it’s taxing for both him and India when he’s anything but easygoing and fully functional. “Where’s Mano?”
Cris snorts and rolls his eyes, but his smile grows broader. I think he loves that dog. Well done, India.
“He’s with Holo and Lani. They’ve got a mutt of their own, and they play like they were litter mates. You’ll have to meet him. When are you coming to Kona again?”
“Soon, I hope.”
“You’ve got an open invitation.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.”
He claps me on the shoulder and moves aside, and there’s my India. She was waiting her turn. She likes to go last so she can be held as long as she likes. She looks okay too. Maybe tired, but better than I was expecting. Her dress is…pale pink of all things and modestly cut. I’ve never seen her look so soft. What in the hell is going on?
I hold her out from me to take her in, and she looks away, blushing. “I look ridiculous, don’t I?”
“No, you’re stunning and you know it. I couldn’t quite believe it, that’s all. Now come here.”
When I wrap my arms around her, I have to smother a laugh. There’s a rope chest harness underneath her couture, and I play my fingers over the bonds, trying to picture it purely by touch. Perhaps I’ll get to see it later. Cris, unsurprisingly, does beautiful rope work.
“You were either a very good girl or very bad. Which was it, little one?”
“Maybe both,” she murmurs against my chest. Sounds about right. If there weren’t so many people here, I’d slide a hand down to see if she had a hip harness to match, but I’ll have to wonder for now. I’d like to hold her forever, but we do have company and I haven’t made introductions yet. Poor Allie is probably standing there, fidgeting. Guilt smacks me upside the head. Jesus, Walter, you’ve got responsibilities. Fucking fulfill them.
I give India one last squeeze and drop a kiss on her head. I need to make an effort to see her more often. She’s got Cris, but I don’t want her to forget she’s got me too. Not only when she’s in crisis, either. Always.
I ruffle her hair when I pull away and then search over my shoulder for Allie. He’s standing a couple of paces behind me, his hands closed but not clenched by his sides, taking in everything and everyone. I reach back for him, taking his arm and applying pressure, my fingers digging into the fine fabric of his suitcoat. He really does look marvelous.
“I wanted to introduce my…” None of them would blink if I said fuck buddy, but Allie might cringe. Partner is too much and might raise some eyebrows. Sub would do, but I don’t want to embarrass him, and I’ve never said that out loud in his presence. “…companion.”
Perfect. And I resisted the “dinner” I could’ve put before it. Because it’s not just about dinner. Certainly not anymore. If I’m lucky, I’ll get to hold onto him until he finds someone else. If I’m very lucky, that will take a while.
“This is Allie.”
Saying it out loud makes something inside me glow. He’s given me a gift, and I savor unwrapping it, saying his name like I’d slip a finger gingerly under Scotch tape and peel it up without wrecking the paper. Allie, Allie, Allie. I’ll say it a million times tonight, every time I get the chance. Then I’ll stop, because he hasn’t extended the privilege to when we’re alone. I’d like to think we’re friends, but I’m not sure what he would say.
“Allie, this is India, Cris, Constance, and Glory.”
He holds out a hand and shakes their hands, dropping nods and mumbling greetings to everyone. His jaw flexes as his eyes flick to meet their gazes. He’s noticeably taller, bigger than anyone else here, even Cris, but his posture is apologetic. I don’t want him to apologize. I want him to be proud because he’s glorious. Wonderful. It’s difficult for him because this is the first time he’s had people look at him and know what he is, because he’s with me. I don’t want him to resent me, and I don’t want him to be ashamed.
Everyone here will recognize how strong he must be and not because of his size. They all know what it is to submit, to hand yourself over to someone else, and though they’ve mostly seen me be benevolent, everyone but Cris has seen what I can demand when I’m in the right mood. It is not for the faint of heart. I lay my hand on the small of his back and urge him a step forward because he doesn’t need to shrink or be afraid. The way his muscles shift under my hand as he obeys my gentle prodding is a thing of beauty.
“They know,” I say low in his ear so he’s the only one privy to my words. “They know, and they have nothing but the utmost respect for what I put you through. Chin up, Hart, because you are nothing short of magnificent.”
He stiffens momentarily, but then the words sink in and he stands taller at the same time his shoulders drop. The glow inside me intensifies because he truly is a gift. One I’ll wrap back up carefully, diligently, when he’s ready to move on, because I’ll make sure he goes to someone who deserves him.
Introductions complete, we find our seats at the table and none too soon. There’s a knock on the door and a waiter comes in bearing a tray of drinks. It was perhaps presumptuous of me, but I’ve ordered ahead. For everyone. Constance indulges me because we’re friends, and I doubt Cris will care as long as the food is good. It’ll be delicious because I wouldn’t bring him somewhere it would be anything but. When the drinks have been passed out and the waiter’s bowed out, I propose a toast.
“To all of us. May the coming year bring your preferred engrossments of pain and pleasure, deprivation and decadence. I’m grateful to have you all in my life.”
The urge to palm Allie’s crotch through his pants strikes, but I resist. There’s a moment for unabashed groping, but this isn’t it. I won’t make him feel cheap, used. Not now. Later is a different matter.
*
A garbled cry rings out in the dungeon, and I smile. It’s a fantastic sound.
Constance has Glory strung up against a post and is drawing her arm back to lay down another whip strike. The cane used to be Constance’s favorite, but in the past couple of years, she’s developed a taste for the singletail and I approve. Glory does, as well. Her fingers are digging into the wood of the post, clutching as she presses her forehead into the vertical beam, her wrists wrapped in lined leather cuffs.
I love to watch the two of them play. It’s enjoyable because I know them so well—their style, their tolerances—so I can dial back the laser focus I can’t shut off normally. Sit back, relax, and enjoy the show.
Another gasping cry as Constance lays a welt across Glory’s back. The pitch is different this time, though not particularly distressed. Constance steps forward, lays a hand on Glory’s hip. “Can you take three more?”
“Yes, mistress.”
“Would you take more than that?”
“For you, mistress, anything.”
They’re pretty words, those. She’d do it, too. She’d let Constance whip her raw, and Constance would work her up so skillfully I bet Glory would beg for more. I’d like to see that. But this kind of play is relatively new for them, and Constance won’t take the chance. She’ll hold herself back, and I like her all the more for it. Glory’s got to get on a plane in a few days, and while some discomfort—knowing she’s suffering for Constance’s pleasure—would please them both, there’s such a thing as restraint.
“Just three, love. I want you to ask for them, though. Beg me.”
“Please, mistress, please. I want your stripes on my back. I would bleed for you. Please, hurt me.”
Glory could medal in pleading, and though it’s not particularly my kink, it’s still damn fun to watch. It’s pretty clear the pain’s passed the point of enjoyment for Glory, and yet she’s still begging for more. For Constance. The sacrifice is absolutely mouthwatering. If I didn’t think Glory was approaching her edge, I’d like to watch it all day. It’s a flavor of pleasure I don’t get to indulge in as often as I’d like, my favorite form of voyeurism. It’s possible I should play more, work less, but the guilt might eat me alive. They need you, Rey. Don’t let them down.
Allie’s sitting on the couch next to me, as absorbed in the scene as I’ve been. I doubt he’s ever seen anything like this. Our thighs and shoulders are pressed against each other, so I’ve been able to feel every shift, every squirm while he’s watched. I’ve darted surreptitious glances at him, though he’s been so absorbed I don’t think he would’ve noticed if I’d been staring the whole time.
Constance has finished up the lashes, and as she removes Glory’s bondage, I nudge Allie. “What’d you think?” His pupils are dilated, and he looks dazed. A little high. Smugness wells inside of me. “Envious?”
“Yeah.”
His answer is short, distracted, as his gaze is dragged back to the happy couple.
“Of which one of them?”
“Both.”
I’d been teasing, certain in his answer, and I hate the cold frisson of doubt that runs through me. A switch? And I missed it? Though I guess I haven’t had the opportunity to see him with someone he might top since we’ve only been together. I’d been so confident. Embarrassingly so.
“Why’s that?” My tone is light, but inside I’m scrambling. No, it’s okay. Just something to keep in mind for the future. I’ll have to find him another switch or someone who won’t mind if he plays with other people. I should start coaching him from the top’s perspective too. How could I have—
“I mean, look at them. I didn’t know…it could look like that. Is that what we look like? I mean, I know I’m not as good as Glory. I can’t believe a little thing like her can take so much. Is it, though? At least a little?”
He’s turned back to me, his face arranged in hope. Tell me I please you. I think of the ecstasy on Glory’s face, the excitement and lust on Constance’s, the blatant love and adoration in how they’re looking at each other now that Constance is lifting the limp and replete noodle of her partner into her arms while she coos words of praise.
More than you know, Allie.
“Yes. Aside from the obvious differences. I could show you sometime if you’d like.”
“How?” His eyes are bright with anticipation, and I’d like to grab him by the back of his neck, drag him over to the post, and show him right now.
“A mirror. Video. Do either one of those appeal to you?”
The bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows gets me half-hard. “Mirror. I know you wouldn’t…” Show anyone. I wouldn’t. “But I—”
“I’m not offended.” I’m not the biggest fan of records myself. Though the idea of being able to watch Allie on film whenever the mood struck me… Screw that. I’d never get anything else done. “We can do that sometime. And if you’d like to top someone, say the word. I’ll find you a suitable partner.”
My throat closed around the words, but they come out as though I’d offered him a glass of water. I should. Watching is its own kind of exertion, and if I’d like to play with him after everyone goes, I should keep him hydrated and comfortable.
A wrinkle forms between his brows, and the corners of his wide mouth turn down. “Top someone?”
“You said you envied them both.”
“Oh. No.” He shakes his head, and the frown turns into an abashed smile. “Because they looked happy. But if I could have traded places with one of them?”
He licks his thick lips, and I want to suck the sheen of moisture right off of them and not stop there. Devour is not a strong enough word for the way I want to consume him at this moment.
“Constance can hold onto her whip.”
The relief that courses through me might be more disconcerting than the panic I felt earlier. He’s not yours. You can groom him, teach him, but then you’ve got to send him on his way, into someone else’s arms. You don’t get to play for keeps.
“Don’t say that too loudly. She might take you up on it.”
His eyes bug, and I smile so he knows I’m kidding. There’s no way Constance has energy for that right now, nor would she let anyone else handle Glory’s aftercare. Not after a scene that intense. Nor would she whip someone she’s only just met. She’d want to know Allie far better before she tried.
Allie’s response is a short nervous laugh, and he tries to distract me with a lift of his chin. “What about them?”
Cris and India have been occupying themselves in the corner of the dungeon dedicated to rope. He’s had her up in a couple of suspensions on one of the rigs, but mostly it hasn’t been for show. Just practice. Though I’d like to see them play hard, this is good for them. Particularly for Cris, and I’m proud of India.
Suspension’s not her favorite and she’s somewhat lacking in patience, but she’s been beautifully obedient all night long as Cris has arranged her in pose after pose, tie after tie. Sure, she finds pleasure in being bound, but not enough to last through the hours they’ve been at this. She’s being generous and giving him what he needs without a struggle. With serenity and grace, actually.
I’m so fucking proud of her. I’ve never seen her be so unstinting with anyone except me. Hunter too, of course.
There’s that unnerving guilt. After all these years. The extent to which I failed her—
Shake it off. She’s with someone safe now, someone who’d never do that to her, and you helped her find that too.
“What about them?”
“They look happy too.”
“They are.” I’d thought the baby thing would’ve turned their world upside down, but they’ve handled it beautifully. Agreed to table the idea for six months and then have a serious discussion. I suspect Cris would be an exceptional father and they’d have beautiful babies, but India… We’ll have to wait and see.
“And you’re not mad?”
“Why would I be mad?” I lay a hand on his thigh and stroke.
“Because you’d rather be playing than sitting here? Wouldn’t you?”
“If we played whenever I wanted to, I’d never do anything else. It’s good for my self-control to not always get what I want. If you said you’d changed your mind and you’d desperately like me to strap you to the St. Andrew’s cross and take a paddle to your ass, I’d happily oblige, but I’m perfectly content sitting here with you. You’re a delight to watch, and I’ll have my fun some other time.”
What I don’t say is this is a pleasure I’m afforded far less often than the gratification kink brings, and I want to soak in it for a bit longer.