Penance (Long Slow Tease, #2) (23 page)

She shivered, her nipples hard and aching while her pussy was wet enough that she wondered if she was leaving a damp spot on the pillow beneath her knees. When he pushed deeper on the next thrust she tried to relax as much as she could, delighting in the way he jerked and growled. A sense of power filled her, the
power a submissive had over her Dominant, the power to please him like no one else.

The faster he moved the more aroused she became until she was
moaning like he was fucking her pussy instead of her mouth. Her clit was a throbbing bundle of nerves, begging for a touch. All the sexual deprivation she’d put herself through seemed to catch up with her all at once and she was desperate for him to fuck her, dying for the feeling of Wyatt’s big dick in her pussy, needing him so bad that she almost wasn’t aware when he began to come.

She had just enough time to draw a quick breath of air before he shoved himself all the way into her mouth, to the point where her nose was buried in his pubic hair and she was struggling to keep from gagging. A moment later his cock twitched in her mouth and he cried out as she swallowed, her throat gripping his dick as she greedily took his seed. Before he was done he pulled out enough that the last few explosions of cum painted her lips
.

When he stepped away from her she moaned in protest, needing him, needing relief from the terrible ach
e that suffused her.

To her shock he simply walked away, leaving her kneeling with her saliva and his seed dripping off her chin. The urge to squeeze her legs together, to touch herself, to just rub her pussy on the pillow was torture. Just one press against her clit and she’d go off like a rocket.

Wyatt’s voice came from behind her. “Don’t move.”

She whimpered, hurting with need.

From behind her came the sound of Wyatt moving around in the kitchen and she wondered what the hell he was doing while she was kneeling here, dying to orgasm. The taste of his seed in her mouth tormented her as did the wetness dripping from her chin and slowly running down her chest. She was drowning in his smell, his taste, and her mind could only focus on her need for him. Dozens and dozens of erotic scenarios poured through her until she was trembling.

She had no idea how long she’d been kneeling there, but when Wyatt touched her head to remove the guard she startled.

“Easy, baby. I’m just taking this off.”

Her jaw ached when he removed the bit. Then he took a small hand towel and gently dried her face and chest, his touch so
tender it brought tears to her eyes. Unable to help herself, she grabbed his hand not holding the towel and brought it to her lips, kissing his fingers, his palm, every inch of skin she could reach. Something inside of her had opened up as she sat, drowning in his scent and taste, a primal need, a burning desire to somehow show him how desperately she wanted him.

He allowed her to kiss him for a few moments before gently pulling his hand away. “I’m going to blindfold you now.”

Looking up at him, she tried to take a mental picture of his face, then closed her eyes and nodded. A moment later cool, silky cloth slipped over her face. She opened her eyes and could only see the faintest hint of light from around the edges. Being blindfolded was another thing she didn’t like. It made her dependent on whoever was leading her and she had a very hard time trusting anyone enough to do that. Even with Petrov she’d barely managed to keep the blindfold on for ten minutes before safewording out.

With a start she realized she didn’t have a safeword with Wyatt and she opened her mouth to tell him that before quickly closing it again. There was no doubt in her mind he was aware that she didn’t have a safeword, but was he keeping her from having one because he wanted a total power exchange relationship, or was it because he wanted her to know that she didn’t need safewords with him, that she could trust him completely? One thing was certain, in taking away her ability to speak he’d forced her to focus on everything he said and did rather than her responses to his actions.

Damn, Wyatt was better at being a Dom than she’d given him credit for. The sexual interaction was the easy part, but getting into the mind of a submissive was much harder. Not that she was truly submissive, but for him she would be, as much as she could. Then again, Wyatt did know what it was like to truly submit so he would have a natural understanding of what would and would not work. Or Petrov had…

Her heart hurt as she wondered if Wyatt had sex with other women during his training.

When he took her hand she almost jerked away from him, her mind filled with images of him fucking one beautiful submissive after another. Of course he’d had sex with other women, there was no way Petrov could have trained him otherwise. During her training with the man she’d slept with a variety of men, different submissives with different tastes to learn how to indulge different kinks. The terrible image of Wyatt coming inside some stranger made her throat close up with tears even as anger filled her.

She was barely aware when he pulled her down onto his lap on what she assumed was the couch. The need to jerk the blindfold off, to scream at him, to demand he tell her if he’d been with anyone else scraped at her self-control, her jealousy
roaring out of control. Yes, she’d betrayed him, yes they’d been separated, yes in theory he’d been training with Petrov for some reason that most probably had to do with her, but Wyatt had fucked other women.

Thankfully the blindfold absorbed her tears, but it couldn’t stop the
pained moan that seemed to come directly from her heart.

“Michelle, did I hurt you? You may speak.”

She licked her lips and her voice came out thick and scratchy as she whispered, “How many women did you fuck during your training?”

He froze against her, then relaxed. “Does it matter?”

Pain radiated through her and she tried to push off his lap, but he wouldn’t let her. “Let me go!”

“Michelle, you may no longer speak.” He jerked her back against him and whispered, “None. I didn’t have sex with any of them.”

She made a disbelieving noise and he had the fucking balls to laugh. “Oh, I like you not being able to talk back. It forces you to listen to me, so hear me well when I say this. I would never betray your trust by going to someone else with my needs.”

The unsaid ‘like you did to me’ hung in the air and shame pushed back her
misplaced anger. She wanted to say she was sorry, wanted to apologize over and over, but she couldn’t speak so she tried to tell him with her body instead. Wrapping her arms around him, she held him close and hugged him as hard as she could. Instead of pushing her away, as she feared, he held her closer and rubbed his nose against her neck.

“Every single fucking day I died a little inside without you being in my arms. Every single day I hated you for doing this to us, for doubting me, for not thinking I was strong enough to handle all of your needs. Never again, do you hear me? You will never, ever go to anyone again or I swear to God
, I will leave you and never come back.”

She nodded against his neck and held him with the desperation of a drowning swimmer. Making a low, hushing noise he stroked her back until her tears finally tapered off, the mask she still wore damp and uncomfortable against her face. When she reached up to take it off he stopped her.

“No, leave it on. I want you to wear it while I feed you. Now open your mouth.”

He proceeded to feed her what tasted like a peanut butter and strawberry jelly sandwich, then some chips, then a chocolate chip cookie along with all the milk she could drink.
When she couldn’t manage another bite he finally relented. By this point she was exhausted, both mentally and physically, but she struggled to stay awake, not wanting to miss a moment of Wyatt pampering her – and he was pampering her – holding and cuddling her while he fed her, stroking her body and occasionally teasing her about her messy eating habits even though he was the one who was responsible for the milk splashing against her lips as he held a glass for her drink from.

She didn’t protest when he stood and carried her, instead resting her face against his chest and taking in deep breaths of his scent. The world around her shifted as she realized he was carrying her upstairs to the loft and she loved the flex of his rock hard muscles while he held her close. He held her like she was fragile, precious even. Without words Wyatt managed to tell her in a thousand ways that he still loved her and if she wasn’t so wiped out it would have started a fresh round of tears. When he la
id her down on a soft surface that had to be the bed she reached out to him, gripping his shirt and trying to pull him down as well.

He gently gripped her hands and removed them from his shirt. “I have some things to take care of. I want you to sleep, Michelle. Just relax and sleep for me.”

The thought of him leaving her alone sent a thread of panic through her and she whimpered, reaching out to him again.

He sighed, but a moment later the bed shifted as he climbed on the mattress with her. “
You know I’m spoiling you, right? Petrov would have my ass if he saw me right now.”

Shaking her head, she pulled his arms around her until they were spooning. The feeling of Wyatt holding her was heaven, bliss, everything right and beautiful with the world. She didn’t give a fuck what Petrov thought, this was right.
For the first time in what felt like years she relaxed fully, sighing in delight as Wyatt nuzzled the back of her ear with his nose before placing a gentle kiss on the lobe.

“Go to sleep, baby, I’ve got you.”

She had no idea how much time had passed, but when she woke
the blindfold was off and the sunlight coming through the double glass doors leading out to the deck off the loft had a beautiful golden hue. Pushing up off of the bed, she stretched then winced as her legs cramped up on her. The pain had her cursing Wyatt under her breath even as her heart soared with the knowledge that he was really here. Not only was he here, but he didn’t hate her.

Without a doubt he was still pissed at her, but she had hope that there was some way to salvage their relationship.

She rolled over to move off the bed and when she did she noticed a noticed a note on the pillow next to her.

Michelle,

One of the first things I did after we separated was to find a good therapist to deal with my shit. You’re going to do the same. You need help, more help than I can give you on my own and I love you too much to watch you self-destruct again, so we’re going to get you the tools you need to fight. In the dresser you’ll find your clothes, get dressed in something comfortable and meet me downstairs.

Wyatt

Her stomach clenched up and she gritted her teeth, hating the thought of going to talk to some stranger and spilling her guts. The therapists she’d seen after her breakdown over Owen’s death hadn’t helped her at all, in fact she was pretty sure they’d done more harm than good. One had thrown pills at her while the other kept insisting that everything stemmed from her relationship with her mother. The last thing she wanted to do right now was spill her soul to some asshole paid to listen to her whine.

From downstairs came the sounds of Wyatt moving around in the kitchen accompanied by the smell of
something delicious. Her stomach growled and she sat looking at the note, trying to figure out if she could somehow get out of it. Considering Wyatt had forbidden her to speak she didn’t think so. She sat staring at the note for a long moment, battling between her almost obsessive need for privacy and her desire to please Wyatt. She traced her fingers over the part of the letter where he told her he loved her and decided it wasn’t such a hard decision to make after all.

After dressing in a pair of light gr
ay capris and a pale lime green top she made her way downstairs, her gaze immediately searching out Wyatt.

He was sliding a baked potato onto a plate, dressed in a pair of worn jeans and a dark t-shirt. She took a moment to admire him, to drink in his masculine beauty and her heart ached anew that she
’d almost lost him. Fear suddenly overtook her, and before she was aware of it, she rushed across the room and wrapped her arms around him in a fierce hug. Her mind spun with the irrational thought that he could be taken away from her, that he could die, that she could die, or that she would betray him again and drive him from her forever. She wasn’t perfect, no matter how hard she tried, and men only wanted perfect women.

“Hey, easy there. Almost made me drop the steaks and that would have been a damn shame.”

He gently pried her arms from around him, but instead of pushing her away he simply turned so he could hug her closer. The fear subsided and her trembling slowed as she matched her breath to his, using his strength to ground herself. She knew her need to be perfect wasn’t healthy, knew it was more harmful than anything else, but it was hard to let go of the habits of a lifetime. It seemed like from the moment she’d been born her mother had insisted on perfection, accepting nothing less.

Eventually Wyatt released her, then gave her a gentle push to the breakfast bar. “Sit down, we need to eat before we head out.”

She almost asked him where they were going, but managed to close her mouth before the words escaped. They ate together in silence, and she found it oddly relaxing not to have to fill the air with chatter. While keeping her from speaking irritated the fuck out of her, it also gave her time to think rather than react. She wondered if that was part of the reason Wyatt was insisting on silence from her, so she would listen and think.