Divine Solace: 8 (14 page)

What Gen wanted.

“Please…I want to come home with you. You and Noah. Please.”

“That’s your pussy talking. You just want to come.”

Noah did something then that took her so close to orgasm
tears threatened. Her throat worked, fingers clawing at the side of the couch.
Christ, the woman was strong. Gen was straining against her grip on her wrists
with all her might, not to get away, but just in reaction to what Noah was
doing, and making no headway at all. Her agitated gaze rolled over Lyda’s
smooth biceps. They were firm, unyielding, like the woman herself. Gen wanted
to put her mouth on them, on Lyda’s neck, on the rise of those beautiful
breasts above the corset. She was so beautiful. To feel like this all night, to
be beyond thought, lost in whatever Lyda demanded, in Noah’s touch…

“No…please. I want to be with you…both.”

“What will you call me when you’re in my home?” Lyda’s grip
constricted enough to leave bruises. Gen felt a thrill shoot through her with
the pain. When her lips parted in aroused response, Lyda’s eyes flashed
triumph. “Tell me, right now.”

“Mistress. Oh God.
Please
.”

It came out a wail. Lyda gave the barest of nods, and Noah
changed rhythms once more. Not a frantic devouring that matched the chaos of
Gen’s mind. Instead, he began a slow stroke around her clit, a circling motion
combined with the press of his tongue, the sucking of his lips she could hear.
It only took three such rotations and she was like a stone fired out over Niagara
Falls. Experiencing a crazy, stomach-rolling rush, tumbling over and over,
buffeted by sheets of water, blinded by the glittering diamond flow, the mist
and foam.

He maintained that deliberate rhythm as her climax pulsed
through her tissues, as her pussy gushed its release. He made a surprised,
pleased noise, suckling the flood of juices. She was making a thin sound,
strangled from a deep part of her that wanted release on so much more than a
physical level. Something just out of reach, but oh so close. So much closer
than she’d been in a really long time. It was terrifying.

When she was gasping, limp in their hold, she trembled under
Noah’s kisses along her thighs, the brush of Lyda’s knuckles along her damp
face, against her breasts as she readjusted Gen’s bra, the neckline of the
dress. Gen kept her eyes shut, face pressed against Lyda’s upper arm. Not
thinking was a conscious choice, because to think would be to evaluate what
she’d done and reach a serious
WTF
.

But it was inevitable. The bitch of such an incredible
experience was how it resurrected lost dreams and hopes, unleashed a soul-deep
yearning. She was clinging to the bittersweet moment as long as she could, a
slippery rock face in whitewater.

“She’s going to crash,” Lyda said. “It’s where she is right
now, who she is. Bring her, Noah. We’ll see what we can do about that. We’re
going home.”

It was too soon. She couldn’t get up. Her legs were noodles.
But Noah lifted her, taking her out of Lyda’s arms. Lyda stayed close, giving
Gen’s hair another stroke. “Take her to my car. I’ll follow in a few moments.”

No one had ever carried her as an adult. Noah brushed a kiss
over her temple. “Sshh,” he murmured. “I’ve got you, baby. It’s all right.”

No one except her first husband had called her baby, and
that had only been when they were dating and he wanted to have sex. The first
time she’d heard him say it, her heart made a tiny leap, like now. She hadn’t
realized then the implied promises behind the endearment—care and
protection—were empty.

Her head felt like a bowling ball, so she kept it on Noah’s
shoulder. “I’m older than you, you know. Calling me baby seems…weird.”

“Does it really seem weird, or is the weirdness because it
doesn’t?”

Yes
. Because it felt exactly like what she wanted him
to call her at this moment. It stroked her nerves, calmed her. And that
agitated her. She couldn’t explain that, even to herself, so she said nothing.

He took her through the club, back to the crowded main
foyer. She kept her eyes closed, even when the hostess stopped them. “Oh, it’s
you, Noah. That’s fine. Go ahead. Have a good night.”

In the relative quiet of the parking lot, she wondered if
she was getting heavy to him. Yes, he was strong, but he was lean. She didn’t
consider herself overweight, but she wasn’t skinny. He didn’t seem to be
tiring, though. He hadn’t even adjusted his grip. He still held her in a secure
cradle.

“Why did they stop you?” Her speech was sluggish.

“Security stops anyone not leaving under their own steam.
They don’t take chances on someone using a date rape drug or letting subspace
disorientation cause a nonconsensual situation. But the owners here know I’d
never endanger anyone else, no matter what a Master or Mistress ordered me to
do.”

When he let her feet down, she was standing by a black Escalade
with all the trappings. Apparently, Lyda working those two jobs in high school
had paid off. The nursery must be a successful venture, and she obviously
hadn’t made poor choices in men, like Gen had. Her corset was probably custom
made, not underwear bought off the discount rack.

She realized abruptly she’d put her car key in her bra, and
it wasn’t there. “My key…”

“Lyda has it. She put it into her bag so you wouldn’t lose
it.”

It also made a cowardly escape impossible. Not that she
would do that. Maybe. “What about yourself?”

“Hmm?” He had his arm around her waist, so she could lean
against him, get her bearings. He was nuzzling her temple, long fingers
stroking her hip. He was an irresistible blend of nurturer and utter
temptation.

“You said you wouldn’t put anyone
else
in danger. It
was a weird way to word it. What if they put
you
in danger? You said no
murder, unless you deserved it, but there are a lot of awful things that don’t
result in death.”

“She doesn’t miss much, does she? Even when she’s a little
fuzzy.” Lyda strode toward them. She was wearing an embroidered silk tunic over
her corset, belted with a silver and black sash. A tote bag was slung over one
shoulder. The Escalade chirped as she unlocked it and opened the passenger
door. “Put her in the front seat with me.”

Noah slid Gen onto the seat and leaned in to pull the belt
across her. Gen laid her hand on his back, tracing the
Yours Unconditionally
tattoo, sliding up over the Celtic heart as he shifted to buckle the belt.
Catching her hand, he kissed her knuckles before laying the hand in her lap.

“I could have done my own seat belt,” she informed him. “It
was more fun to let you do it.”

Amusement captured his expression at her slurred tone. “I
bet you’re a sexy, adorable drunk,” he said.

“Not drunk. Just lost. Confused.” She wanted to ask him if
she should be doing this, and that disturbed her. She could ask herself. If
she’d made a wrong choice, she could back away from it. Even now, her mind
wasn’t that scrambled, even if her physical coordination was.

What had Lyda said?
She’s going to crash.
Was that
what this sudden despairing feeling was?

“Hey.” Lyda slid in front of Noah, framing Gen’s face in her
hands. Noah was right behind her, his hand resting on Gen’s leg. “You’re not
going to be alone tonight, Gen. You’re with us. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Lyda slipped out from between them and Noah closed the door.
Lyda tossed him the key to Gen’s car and a T-shirt from the bag slung on her
shoulder. As he caught them, she pointed to Gen’s car, parked further down the
same row. “Follow us home.”

* * * * *

Lyda had the radio on a satellite station that played
oldies. The late hour and her post-climactic lassitude should have made Gen as
mellow as the music. But those weird feelings kept cycling in her mind. Past
baggage, disappointments and worries, twining with current concerns. What would
she be doing with Noah and Lyda the rest of the night? What would Lyda demand of
her? Gen had called her Mistress. Only once, but had that set up certain
expectations? Things she should rectify?

“I’m not sure if I want to do anything else tonight. Maybe
we should pull over and I can head for home. I had a really good time, though…”
God, she sounded stupid. “I’m not sure if what I did was just the situation,
hormones, whatever. You and Noah…you two could convince Mother Teresa to go
home with you. I don’t want to be a disappointment.”

“Or get too deep. Take too many risks?”

Lyda’s tone was even, neutral, making it impossible for Gen
to bristle. Much. “I’m not good at this kind of stuff.”

“One-night stands? Relationships? Sex?” Lyda glanced at her.
The sudden trace of warmth in her eyes made her seem more approachable.

“Yes,” Gen said bluntly. “I suck at it. All of it. You seem
like a decent person, and I have no idea of your expectations in this
situation. I don’t want to be rude to a friend of Marguerite’s.”

Lyda’s visage sharpened. “Did you do what you did tonight
because you think you owe sexual favors to Marguerite’s friends?”

“No.” Gen blanched. “God, no. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“So why did you bring Marguerite’s name into it at all?”
Lyda gave her a shrewd look. “Do you feel an obligation to her?”

“I…she’s been very good to me. She’s a friend. Family,
really. I love her. I just…I don’t know. You have a connection to her, and I
didn’t want to screw with that. Screw it up. That’s all. Give me a break. You
fried my brain.”

It was a relief to see amusement return to Lyda’s face, but
she didn’t say anything for the next few intersections. She was an aggressive
driver, one who drove with the speed of traffic rather than the speed limit,
and maneuvered through congestion like a Tijuana taxi driver. It didn’t
unsettle Gen, though, because Lyda projected the same poise she seemed to bring
to every situation.

In the heat of a sexual moment, it was clear how liberating
that confidence could be to whoever was under Lyda’s command. Outside that
moment, it left Gen feeling uncertain, on quicksand. Not worthy. She didn’t
care for the feeling, especially since she knew it was self imposed. She
straightened in the seat. When she did, Lyda was slowing down for a traffic
light. After a glance at Gen, she slid a finger beneath the neckline of Gen’s
dress, straightening the curled fabric. Her knuckle brushed Gen’s breast,
leaving a tingling wake as she withdrew.

“You’re not going to screw anything up, Gen. I have no
expectations of you except what you’ve promised. To come spend the night in my
home. I’ll let you know what I want when we’re there, but the choices you make
are yours, and none are wrong.”

“I need to get up early. Go home and do some things.”

“I had some things left over today from the nursery I need
to do tomorrow as well. Of course, if I don’t lock him up, Noah will probably
handle them by dawn.”

“I noticed he’s a night owl.” Despite him saying he’d slept
well at her house, Gen had woken a couple times that night and the subsequent
one to find Noah reading by a book light. Yet he’d been up well before her both
days.

“He doesn’t sleep well at night, unless he’s completely
wrung out.” Lyda shifted lanes. “What did you think about being in charge of
him for the weekend?”

“I didn’t really think of it that way. He was a guest.”

“I mean when you told him to come for you. You gave me
somewhat of an answer in the club, but I want to hear more.”

“Oh.” Gen focused on passing Tampa traffic. At just after
ten o’clock, the town was still wide awake. She took a steadying breath. “I
liked how he was willing to let me take the lead on certain things, but that’s
not really the same thing as what you do. The way he took care of things, took
care of me…that’s more about what he is than me acting like a Domme, right?”

“Much of it is instinct, and you seem to have good
instincts.” Lyda glanced at her. “Fierce rabbit. Soft fur. Haven’t seen much of
your teeth and claws yet, but they’re there, once you’re less worried about
being careful.”

“I’ve been less careful. It doesn’t work out.” Gen brushed
her hair back, glancing down to confirm that seam was still straight. She could
still feel the lingering effect of Lyda’s touch. She wanted to stroke her
fingers over it, reignite those nerve endings. She should be done with sex for
the night, but her simmering body told her otherwise.

“Depends on whether you’re with people you can trust.” Lyda
looked in the rearview mirror. “Noah pulled off. He must be picking up
drive-through. He didn’t eat dinner yet.”

Gen thought it more likely Noah had found her ancient
compact car wasn’t capable of keeping up with Lyda. “So, what will we be doing
for the rest of the night?” she asked. Trying to sound casual.

Lyda turned off the main road. “I’m not going to tell you.
That’s part of the anticipation. As I said, the choices will be yours, Gen, but
I view you as mine for the night. I’ll treat you accordingly. The things I’ll
do with you are more light handed than what I do with Noah, but what’s light
handed for him will push your limits to the max.”

That pretty much tangled up Gen’s brain and took care of any
attempts at idle chitchat for a few minutes. They turned off on a road with a
big sign for Growing Things Nursery. Apparently Lyda lived on the same property
as her business. “Are you ever light handed with Noah?”

“Never. It doesn’t work for him, because that’s not what he
needs. If and when I get more demanding with you, it will be different, because
your needs are different.”

Lyda pulled up to the house, which looked like a 1920s
clapboard farmhouse. Moonlight glinted off several large greenhouses beyond it.
A line of solar lights etched out the front walkway. Removing the key from the
ignition, Lyda put her wrist on the wheel. She slid a finger along Gen’s knee,
playing under the hem of the dress. “You’re a very sexy woman, Gen. The more
you believe that, the more people will feel it when you’re around them. They’ll
see it in the way you walk and dress, the way you present yourself to the
world. You’re a woman who, if you were truly owned and cherished, would set the
world on its ear.”