Divine Solace: 8 (21 page)

“The heart always gets broken when it cares. That’s part of
caring. And he breaks the heart of anyone who does. It doesn’t make him any
less appealing. In some ways, it’s part of what makes him so irresistible.”
Lyda took both her gloves off, reached out a hand. “Come down here.”

It was an unmistakable order, made even clearer when Gen
hesitated. “Now, Gen.”

She closed those few steps between them, sank down in the
cushion of dirt Lyda’s efforts with the trees had wrought. Lyda took her hand,
her fingers wrapping around Gen’s as she knelt. Gen laid a tentative hand on
Lyda’s bent knee and wasn’t discouraged from keeping it there. She smelled
coconut and almond butter sunblock. “Do you want a kiss, Gen?” Lyda asked.

“Yes.” Gen cleared her throat. “Do you?”

“Yes. A soft, pretty girl kiss, your mouth trembling because
you’re not certain where this is going or how much of yourself you’ll risk.”

As Lyda regarded her steadily, Gen realized she was inviting
her to initiate. She eased forward, those mesmerizing eyes and sensual lips
beckoning. Putting a hand on Lyda’s arm, she followed it up to her shoulder, to
her neck, shyly teasing the ponytail over Lyda’s shoulder. She caressed her
face, neck. The line of shoulder again. Lyda stayed still, watching her, which
increased the charge. At length, Gen leaned in, pressed her lips against
Lyda’s.

The woman didn’t respond immediately, allowing Gen to
explore and coax, the tip of her tongue tracing the seam. She put her other
hand on Lyda’s opposite shoulder to steady herself. She played with Lyda’s
lips, seduced, sent yearning, unspoken messages she herself couldn’t yet
decipher.

When Lyda at last cupped the back of her head and took over,
Gen sighed into her mouth, her lips parting. Lyda’s tongue tangled with hers,
her arm circling Gen’s waist, pulling her between her thighs. Gen caught the
belt loops of her jeans, fingers sliding along the small of Lyda’s back, the
delicate bones of her spine. Lyda’s thighs trapped her on either side as the
woman delved deep in her mouth, her hand dropping to grip Gen’s ass, the bare
cheek exposed by the thong beneath the skirt. As Lyda tightened her fingers
enough Gen felt those flogger marks, she let out another needy breath.

Lyda raised her head. Gen was practically reclined in her
arms, her knees folded beneath her. She hadn’t appreciated a woman’s strength
before. It was different from Noah’s, more sculpted and soft-skinned, but Lyda
had it in good measure.

“Drop your head back. We have an audience.”

Gen complied so she saw Noah from an upside-down position.
He had his chin propped on a hand and was studying them with avid appreciation.

“Men are so simple,” Gen said, a little shakily.

When he grinned, Lyda snorted. “Isn’t that the truth?” She
eased Gen back up to a sitting position. “Come to the club on Wednesday. We’ll
see how you do as a Domme. For now, go home. And don’t think too much. It gets
in the way.”

“Of what you want?” Gen said, feeling a little spirited.
Lyda’s eyes sparked, her lips tugging.

“Of what we both want,” she replied.

A straight dismissal. Lyda’s brief answer to a couple
questions hadn’t given her much in terms of reassurance, but that kiss…well,
that had given her something. Enough to keep her on this crazy course. And give
her an overwhelming case of hormones.

That day when Gen came home, she considered fishing the
vibrator from her sock drawer to deal with it, but in the end she held off,
though she wasn’t sure why. She told herself she’d do it before Wednesday,
indulge a few dozen outrageous extension fantasies about Lyda and Noah so she
didn’t go to the club a mass of nerves. Yeah, like that would help.

Marguerite gave her a speculative look on Monday, but she
didn’t say anything. Fellow club members could have told M how things had gone,
since it had all happened on the public floor, but the idea of M checking on
Gen didn’t bug her. She’d realized a long time ago Marguerite had a hawklike
protectiveness of her two employees. M never pried or asked questions unless
she had a specific concern, which made that trait unobtrusive most times.

Chloe was a different matter, but she wasn’t there Monday,
and Gen was off on Tuesday. She had time to get in the right mindset to talk to
the younger girl about her club experience in a casual, fun way, rather than as
a potentially life-altering experience.

She told herself she was being overly dramatic, but when she
flipped through magazines in her craft room Monday night, looking for collage
material, she realized she was seeking their features. Noah’s mouth. Lyda’s
eyes. She wasn’t trying to match the physical elements. It was the way Lyda looked
at Gen, at Noah, that sense of expectation, control, confidence. The set of
Noah’s mouth, aroused, amused…or when he was in that quiet place in his head.

Closing her eyes, Gen remembered Lyda’s hand closing on her
nape, bringing her between Lyda’s legs to taste her flesh. Directing her how to
pleasure her Mistress. There was no tentative wait-and-see to Lyda. Not like
Gen had been with her husbands, following their lead so as not to undermine
their traditional role in the bedroom.

Now she wondered if it had really been that, something
derived from the low expectations of her upbringing, or an innate personality
trait. She liked the feeling of someone she could trust taking charge, though
her husbands had fallen so short in the trust department, she’d turned her
desire for that into a character flaw. Lyda made her look at it differently.
The way she treated Noah and Gen suggested Lyda considered their submission a
gift, one she took seriously. At no time during their extraordinary evening
together had Lyda betrayed Gen’s trust, manipulated her feelings or tried to
make her feel inadequate. Anything like that had come from Gen’s own
insecurities—she knew enough about herself to be honest on that score.

Then there was Noah. She’d been so wary of men for so long,
expecting them to be disappointments. He’d come into her world sideways. She’d
been told he was a submissive male, and then been thrilled by the mix of what
that meant for Noah. His sudden passion when she’d desired it, how strong he
could be when she needed nurturing. His odd vulnerability, sleeping on the
patch of grass near Lyda, or his chagrin for upsetting Gen, that first night in
her kitchen.

She could be romanticizing all of this, based on one single
night, but there was no denying the truth. When Lyda had asked “Do you want
more?” Gen knew the answer was a resounding yes.

She moved to the computer. Searching for male erotic images,
she weeded out the crass porn sites and focused on the more artistic venues.
She studied long, lean male bodies with smooth muscles, but Noah’s eyes were
the challenge. She wasn’t sure she’d ever met a male with eyes like his. So
many different things lay in those eyes, a huge mystery waiting to be unlocked.

In erotic female images, she discovered Lyda in the build of
female athletes, though fortunately not one so absent of body fat she had the
hard look of a man. Lyda was all female with her full breasts, the nipples high
and tight, the nice curves at hip and ass.

She imagined Lyda’s lips, her cheekbones. The cascade of her
hair framing her face and throat, the shining waves on her bare shoulders.
Finally she found the right picture. It was a grayscale photo of a naked woman
sitting in shadow, her back to the camera. Only the graceful lines of hip and
back were visible, along with her vulnerable nape, because her hair was pulled
forward. Gen printed the picture, cut around the outline with her razor and put
it against a lavender paper.

Using a fine marker, she wrote
Lyda
across the
woman’s back in calligraphy script, the tail curving beneath her buttocks. She
wrote the name around the form as well in tiny script, moving outward from
there in a spiral. Pulling from her magazines, she pasted other words into the
open spaces, creating a garden of words. Lyda’s name became the blooms and the
words were the green background, or different, smaller blossoms, accentuating
and defining the bigger flowers.

Strength, beauty, uncertainty, challenge, control, trust…

When she turned back to the computer, she indulged a darker
urge. She clicked on an image of a woman in the stereotypical dominatrix gear
she’d first imagined Lyda wearing. Tight, shiny garb, thigh-high boots, whip in
her hand. This model had a cruel expression, slick red lips. Gen shifted her
gaze back to the naked woman, sitting unafraid in darkness, the line of her
back straight, self-contained in her solitude. Beautiful. The essence of Lyda
was there, not on her computer screen.

It didn’t mean she couldn’t wield a whip if she so chose.
Gen replayed the sting when Lyda had struck her. What astounded her was how
she’d taken it without protest. She wasn’t ready to say she’d embraced it, but
she’d definitely opened herself to the experience.

Her cell phone buzzed, making her jump. The disruption
jarred her back to a less pleasant reality, because phone calls often meant
collection agencies still trying to collect on unsecured loans from her
ex-husband. If Marguerite hadn’t helped cosign on the house, Gen never would
have acquired loan approval. He’d destroyed her credit rating that badly.
Seeing the nursery number, however, she relaxed. She wondered which voice she’d
hear at the end of the line, knowing she’d be thrilled by either one.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Gen. It’s Noah.”

“I didn’t know you knew how to use a phone. Chloe says
you’re a Fae spirit, unable to touch technology. Something like that.”

His chuckle sent a ripple of pleasure from her tailbone up
through her vitals. Yes, she had it bad. “That girl is a troublemaker,” he
said. “Do you have Tuesday off?”

“Depends. Why are you asking?”

He sighed. “I’m surrounded by suspicious females.”

“Or smart, depending on how you look at it.”

“True. Want to go sailing with me? It’s supposed to be a
great day for it.”

She blinked. “Um…yeah. Remember, I don’t really know much
about it.”

“No worries. Just bring lots of sunblock, a willingness to
learn and a swimsuit. Preferably something that doesn’t cover a lot. It helps
with the wind shear.”

“And you wonder why females are suspicious.” She laughed.
“Should I bring snacks?”

“I’m never averse to snacks. I have a small storage area up
front that holds the life jackets, so we can stow them there. I’ll have bottled
water.”

So this would be just her and him, not Lyda. “Did Lyda ask
you to set this up?”

“She gave me permission to set it up, but the idea was mine.
Is that okay?” His tone was neutral, so she couldn’t tell if she’d offended him
or not.

“I’m sorry, Noah. I’m not sure how this works. I wasn’t
trying to be snarky.”

“I know that.” His tone warmed instantly, reassuring her.
“See you in the morning. About eight, at the marina?”

“I’ll see you then.”

* * * * *

When she parked at the marina and pulled the key from the
engine, she waited a couple minutes for the motor to stop rattling and cut off.
Her car was doing that more frequently of late. She’d learned to ignore
people’s looks when it did, or crack a joke like, “he likes to complain when I
leave him alone”. She didn’t care she had an old car. It was all hers, and it
took care of her.

On the way over, she’d been enjoying the sexy tone of Kylie
Minogue’s version of “Can’t Get You Out of My Head”, which was the mood she
hoped to sustain today. Seeing Noah first thing helped with that. Maybe too
much, since she suppressed the urge to do a few cartwheels when she found him.

He was watching for her, sitting on top of one of the
pilings that followed the marina dock. He wore a pair of swim trunks, boat
shoes and nothing else. Two young women were walking past him, their gaze
lingering, because it was impossible for any straight woman not to indulge in a
look. His hair was tied back in a thick tail, but it draped over his tanned
right shoulder.

The two girls had the bodies for their skimpy bikinis and
short shorts, but Noah’s gaze never left Gen’s as she headed in his direction.
She thought one of them made a passing flirtatious comment, but a polite, faint
smile was his only response.

She shouldered her tote as he slid off the piling, walked
toward her with a loose-hipped stride. She was glad she’d dared to wear her
two-piece. It wasn’t hugely sexy, but the top did show off her breasts well
without being in constant danger of falling off. She’d worn a pair of cut-off
shorts over the bottoms. She might take them off later. Maybe. It was silly to
be self-conscious, since Noah had seen her naked, but somehow the focus of all
that had been Lyda’s reaction. This felt different, just the two of them, and
he looked so good. Wouldn’t it be nice to be like a guy, not measuring his
looks against her own, just enjoying a full ogle of his appearance?

“Hi gorgeous,” he said, making her decide right off it was
going to be a nice day. He gave her car a look as it subsided. “I can fix that
for you. It’s just an ignition timing issue.”

“Really? I might take you up on that. If you let me pay for
it, of course.” She pushed on before he could shrug that off, as she knew he
would. “Tyler keeps threatening to buy me a new car. I’m always deathly afraid
I’m going to show up for work one morning and he’ll have done it. I told
Marguerite I’d quit if they did something like that.”

“You don’t want Tyler to be your sugar daddy? In an entirely
platonic, Marguerite-maybe-wouldn’t-cut-up-my-body-for-shark-bait way?”

His eyes danced and she pushed at him. He caught her hand,
held it against his chest, his fingers sliding over her palm and knuckles. “I’m
glad you came,” he said.

She took one of those unsteady breaths his touch seemed to
cause, and curled her fingers to stroke the lightly furred flesh beneath them.
“Me too. Are you going to teach me enough to keep me from drowning?”

“Absolutely. If you offer me food. Or sexual favors. I
accept either as payment.”

“Guys are so easy.”

“I thought we already discussed that.” He pointed down to
the bulkhead, where a two-man sailing craft waited, the mast raised and sails
furled, ready to go. “If you want to hit a restroom before we head off, there’s
one in the marina office.”

“Okay.”

A few minutes later, she was ready. He’d stowed her tote,
and offered her a hand onto the boat. He was sitting next to it on the floating
dock, his feet holding the craft, keeping it steady as she stepped into it and
sat down where he directed her.

“In the beginning, I’ll sail her, and talk you through the
basics. Then you can start helping out. By the end of the day, you’ll be able
to single hand her.”

“So you can sit back and do nothing.”

“Except watch you.”

Then he was in the boat with her, casting off. He did it all
so smoothly, she didn’t have a chance to feel any trepidation, though she might
have if she’d realized how small their boat was and how big the channel was.
But he projected such calm, not at all concerned as he navigated the motorless
boat among the power boat traffic. She sucked in a breath when the boat tipped.

“Very normal,” he assured her. “It’s going to heel when the
wind catches it. That’s part of what makes it go, and the closer you can hold
it to the wind, the faster we go. The trick is not letting the wind overpower
it and capsize us.”

“Which is not going to happen.”

“No.” He promised. “Let’s do a tack. Move with me. One,
two…now.”

He did that with her a few times, until she could do it with
reasonable ease, moving from side to side of the boat with him as needed. Once
she fell into the rhythm, she could enjoy looking at their surroundings, which
included him. Leaning out over the water, his ab muscles tight, thighs taut,
bare feet braced against the opposite edge of the boat. Holding onto the boat
with her other hand, she slid her fingers over those abdominal muscles, wanting
to feel.

He glanced her way, but he didn’t stop her. She caressed
those shifting muscles, enthralled with them. Enthralled with him. Still, she
wasn’t sure what was allowed, so she contained herself, withdrew her hand.

He’d made her don a lifejacket, but he wasn’t wearing his.
While she appreciated the access that provided her questing hand, as well as
his effort to make her feel more secure, she wondered if that was more of what
Lyda had implied. So protective of others, but not of himself…

She was glad he’d warned her about the sunblock, because the
reflection of the sun on the water which felt so good would nevertheless fry
tender skin. He was so evenly tan, she expected he spent a lot of time out here
with his students, but he had the faint coconut aroma of sunblock as well.

A boat went by with a black Labrador on the bow. The dog was
wearing a yellow life jacket and wagging his tail. With his majestic profile,
he looked like a figurehead. The lolling tongue and dancing eyes made it clear
he was ready to fling himself in the water the moment his master gave the
go-ahead. Noah pointed out a set of kayakers paddling closer to the shore, one
of whom had a dachshund sitting on his lap. The little dog was also wearing a
lifejacket.