Nobody's Hero (24 page)

Touch me there, too, Sir.

He chuckled against her mouth, but cupped her
breast and pinched her nipple. Again her hips convulsed and she
sucked Adam’s tongue deeper inside her mouth. He groaned. Was he in
pain, too? The coarse hairs on his leg caused gooseflesh to rise as
he kneed her bare legs apart. When had he removed her jeans?

Who cares?
She was just glad there was
very little to get in his way.

Adam’s hand released her breast with a ragged
breath. “Wait. We aren’t having sex. You were just in a major
accident.”

Karla groaned. How could he pull back now?
She needed him. “Please, Sir. Don’t leave me like this.”

“I promise to take care of your wants later.
Right now, you need sleep.”

He pulled her against him and held her close,
laying his chin on the top of her head. She tried to regain her
equilibrium. How was she supposed to just fall asleep when he’d
stirred her body to life like that? Then she realized Adam was
holding her—tightly. He didn’t want to leave. Not at the moment
anyway. She wasn’t his slave anymore. Maybe she wasn’t his
submissive either. But he was holding her, and that was more than
enough for her.

She turned onto her left side and scooted
back against him, spooning into the curve of his body. His erection
against her ass made her smile. At least she wasn’t the only one
turned on this morning.

Karla sighed as Adam’s hand splayed open on
her abdomen and he pulled her closer. Maybe everything was going to
be okay after all.

Three days later, Adam lay awake, holding
Karla in his arms as he’d done every night since he’d nearly lost
her. No closer to figuring out what the hell he was going to do to
fix the mess he’d created, he thought back over the last few
days.

Since Saturday morning, they’d laid in bed,
lounged around, ate Angelina’s minestrone soup to the last drop,
and curled up in front of the fire to talk about…well, nothing
earthshattering. Just ordinary stuff, sharing stories about their
lives, catching up on the mundane facts of life they used to share
in their letters over the years.

Adam had given Karla daily all-body massages.
He’d even pulled the TENS unit out of his toy bag and used the
electrical stimulation to help relieve the whiplash pain in her
shoulders. He smiled at the thought of using the unit on even more
sensitive areas.

By last night, they’d played a card game,
laughed, watched some sappy chick flick about a town full of
matchmakers in Ireland, and he thought the lingering effects of
subdrop had disappeared. She’d reported that her muscles weren’t as
sore either.

He ought to be horsewhipped. What kind of
Dom—technically he was her Master then, which made it even
worse—was he not to anticipate subdrop?

He’d put her into subspace twice during their
Shibari scene. Hell, that was intense even for an experienced sub,
but he hadn’t explained to her anything about it or told her to
watch for the telltale emotions of a drop. The woman might have
spent more than three months singing in a kink club, but her
knowledge of BDSM was limited to what she could observe from the
stage in the public area.

Joni had suffered from it often and he’d made
her promise to seek him out when she felt like that so he could
take care of her needs until it passed. Hell, Karla had done that
instinctively—coming to him in the shower seeking comfort—and he’d
jumped her bones and none too nicely, either. Karla hadn’t shown
the more obvious symptoms he was familiar with, but if he hadn’t
sent her off to take Cassie home, not to mention to distance
himself from her a bit, he could have been around to observe and
recognize the signs.

He hadn’t been an attentive Master. Not
wanting to be placed in that role was no excuse. Once he’d accepted
it, he had a responsibility to her to make sure all her needs were
met. He’d screwed the pooch royally, speed, random luck, or a weird
cocktail of two or more things? He’d have to watch to see what her
signals were in the future.

Wait a minute.
There was no future for
them. What the hell was the matter with him?

You’re running scared, jarhead.

“Yeah, you can say that again, Joni.”

Joni? What the fuck was going on with his
head?

Running scared. Well, the voice had that
right. He didn’t like the feeling now any more than he had over the
last three decades. After that blow-up with Karla over his
nightmare or PTSD or whatever the fuck it was, he’d needed to put
some distance between the two of them.

His only thoughts since last week were how to
get himself out of this damned TPE arrangement—well, when his
little head wasn’t thinking about how to get back inside her
pussy.

What was he going to do about her? Seeing her
so helpless and hurting at the hospital Friday night had nearly
killed him. He needed to be her protector, her guardian. But damned
if he wasn’t starting to feel he needed to be something
more…something he couldn’t quite name.

The side of his thumb idly stroked her
abdomen. She wore her long t-shirt and he’d insisted on panties
after discovering she preferred to go commando. Well, so did he,
but he’d taken to wearing skivvies himself, hoping the combination
would cut back on temptation for both of them. He stroked her hair
and she moaned in her sleep, causing his woody to bang against her
ass.

Stand down. You’re not getting
any
.

Karla sure had changed since she’d arrived at
his club. The woman had fascinated him ever since she’d shown up at
his club last summer. Many trips to the shops on Broadway had
helped him transform her stage wear—getting rid of those chaste,
dull Maid Marian dresses—and he’d spent many a night at the club
ogling her. Even her music had drawn him in, her voice a mixture of
sultriness and grit. He’d seen other men at the club watching her,
too, and had to fight the urge to rip their throats out.

Possessiveness wasn’t what a guardian should
be experiencing, was it?

Admit it, jarhead. You want her. All of
her.

But he didn’t want to own her. He wanted
to…what?

He sure as hell didn’t want to send her away.
She’d begged him not to ever since the hospital. He must have said
something to her in his delirium or under the influence of pain
pills to make her think that. Hell, he’d never known Karla to be
insecure. He couldn’t even blame that stinkin’ thinkin’ on the
Master/slave agreement, because it happened before. The subdrop
intensified it, but its roots were deeper.

The TPE also had eroded other parts of her
personality as if she’d tried to become what she thought he wanted.
In the future, he’d need to be extremely careful in revealing his
wants or asking her to do anything, because clearly she was going
to sacrifice herself and her own needs in order to meet his. That
might turn some men on, but that wasn’t the Karla he was falling in
love with.

Whoa! Fuck that shit!
He wasn’t
falling in anything—except maybe a pile of horseshit. Man, if he
didn’t rein in thoughts like those, he’d hurt her even more. He may
be attracted to her and care about her, love having sex with her,
but "falling in love" wasn’t in his vocabulary.

Sure, he did care about her. A lot. Big
fucking deal.

Somehow he didn’t think that’s what Karla
wanted…or needed.

After dinner, they sat in front of the
fireplace again, watching the flames licking the wood, Karla
sitting upright against his chest, dressed in her long t-shirt. Her
knees were tented in front of her and he fought the urge to take
his hand and…

Cool it, old man.

Instead, he buried his face in her tangled
curls, breathing in her citrus-y scent.

“Adam?”

“Yes, kitten?”

“Thank you for taking such good care of
me.”

He hugged her tighter. The thought of not
having Karla in his life anymore caused a sharp pain in his chest,
not much different from the pain he’d felt after Joni died. How had
she gotten under his skin so fast?

Adam rested his chin on the top of her head.
“I’m just glad you’re feeling better. You scared the shit out of
me.”

She laughed. “I won’t break, you know?”

“What?”

Rather than answer, she took his hand from
around her waist and moved it up to cover her breast. His balls
tightened. Her tit fit his hand perfectly. He chuckled and pinched
her nipple until it became as hard as a pebble. He loved that
little hitch in her breathing that signaled her sexual
excitement.

“Demanding little thing, aren’t you?”

“Well, if I had to wait for you to take the
initiative again, Sir, I might be an old lady.”

His fingers stilled. She’d never be old to
him. No matter how long he lived, she’d always be a quarter-century
younger. Why, all of the sudden, didn’t he care anymore? Karla was
mature for her age. He’d just have to work at maintaining his
health and be sure to keep his body in shape so she wouldn’t grow
tired of having an old man for a…

Dom. That’s all they were going to have, a
Dom/sub relationship. Don’t even think about anything else. Hell,
maybe she didn’t want any kind of BDSM arrangement with him. He’d
messed up badly before. Would she still trust him to care for her
needs like a good Dom should? When she came to her senses—tomorrow,
next month, next year—she’d find someone closer to her own age. But
think of the memories he’d create in their time together, however
long it might last. He wanted to make those memories.

His hand skimmed down over her abdomen,
pulled the tail of the t-shirt up, and slid inside the waistband of
her panties. Her hips bolted upward and she stretched her legs out
as his finger slid between her very wet folds. “Eager, little
one?”

“Yes, Sir.” Her breathy whisper sounded
almost sultry. “You left me hanging twice now—once in the shower
and once after the accident.”

“That I did, didn’t I?” He was pleased to
know she’s felt deprived enough to miss them.

Adam’s mouth brushed against her temple and
her head lolled to the side, allowing him to trail kisses along the
column of her neck as his finger parted her nether-curls and found
the opening of her pussy, pressing inside. She gasped.

“Tell me if anything hurts. Your pussy and
mons may be bruised from that rough session in my office Friday
morning, not to mention other areas injured in the accident that
night. We’re going to take it slowly this time.”

“Please, Sir, not too slowly. I need
you!”

He groaned at the urgency in her plea and his
wet finger pulled out of her quivering hole and stroked between her
folds to her clit hood. She tilted her pelvis against his
finger.

“Don’t move. I will control how fast I let
you come, kitten.”

She shivered, but he didn’t think it was from
the cold. She hadn’t balked at obeying. Did she still want him to
be her Dom?

* * *

He was going to let her come. Thank the
gods.

His finger and thumb pinched her clit and she
tried to squirm away, but he held her tightly against him. Why had
she gone bratty on him immediately, though? Would she jeopardize
her orgasm as a result? He didn’t seem too upset. But he’d ended
their Master/slave agreement, hadn’t he? She wasn’t sure what her
status was now.

Trying to keep her hips still was a challenge
she hadn’t expected to be so difficult. She concentrated on his
fingers, reveling in the intense feeling of having his large hand
on her small pussy. But shouldn’t she be touching him, too, giving
something back? She reached out to run her fingers over his
leg.

Adam sighed and pushed her away from his
chest, removing his finger from her clit. She groaned in
frustration.
Don’t push me away again, Adam. Please!
She
turned around to face him.

His scowl told her he definitely was not
happy. “What did I tell you?”

What had she done wrong this time? He wasn’t
pleased with her. “You told me not to move my hips, Sir.”

“I told you not to
move
. Period. If
I’m going to take this slowly, I can’t have you touching me.”

“But I only touched your leg, not your…” Her
gaze flicked down to his crotch, and she felt her face grow warm
and looked back up at him. How could her innocent touches have that
much of an effect on him? She smiled, feeling a sense of power she
hadn’t known she possessed. “Please, Sir. Tell me what you want.
But don’t stop doing what you were doing.”

“Are you giving your Dom orders, kitten?”

Crap
. “I’m sorry, Sir. I wasn’t sure
if…” Her eyes opened wider as his words sank in. “My Dom?”

His other hand reached up to cup her breast
in a possessive display that made her feel like she was his, but in
a way she enjoyed.

“I may not want to be your Master, but being
a Dom is ingrained in me. Can you accept that? Submit to me
sexually?”

“I…I think so.”

“You’ll have to do better than ‘I think so,’
kitten. Yes…or no?”

I can do this. Whatever “
this”
is.

“Yes, Sir. I can submit sexually.” Being so
new to sex, it certainly was easier to submit than to take charge.
She had no clue what to do most of the time.

“We’ll see.” He stood up and held a hand out
to her. She winced as she began to rise and he bent down to scoop
her into his arms.

“Whoa! What are you doing? Put me down,
Adam!”

“You’d better correct yourself, and
soon.”

“Master Adam, Sir. Sorry. But you shouldn’t
be lifting me.”

“I’ll lift whatever I damned well please and
right now, it pleases me to lift you.”

He carried her out of their room and down the
hallway. Was he going to take her down to a theme room and restrain
her? Her clit zinged even as her heart rate tripled. But instead of
going down the stairs, he continued to the end of the hall and
opened the door to one of the club’s private bedrooms. She’d never
been in one of these. They were used by members wanting a little
more privacy than the theme rooms with their observation windows
allowed.