Penance (Long Slow Tease, #2) (25 page)

“What would you do differently?”

“I’d love them, unconditionally.”

“So would you say your parent’s love was conditional?”

“Not my dad, but my mother, yes.” She slumped back into the sofa, and even as she did her mother’s voice told her to sit up straight and stop looking like a slob.

“Do you have any siblings?”

“Yes, two brothers.”

“And was she as focused on what she thought of as perfection with them as she was with you?”

“No, because they were boys.”

“And boys weren’t supposed to be perfect in your house?”

She thought about it, remembering all the times her brother’s screwed up and her mother would just brush it off as ‘boys being boys’. “No, I don’t think they were held to the same standard I was.”

“Do you have any idea why?”

Frowning, she shook her head. “No.”

“Our time is getting short. Michelle, I’d like you to do something for me if you would.”

“What?”

Lisa smiled at her suspicious tone. “I’d like you to write a letter to your mother telling her how you feel about her. I don’t want you to actually send it to her, but I do want you to write with complete honesty. Tell her everything that you didn’t like about how she raised you, along with the things that you did.”

“Why?”

“Sometimes it’s easier to think things through when we write them down, and to be honest with ourselves.”

“Do I have to show it to you?”

“That is entirely up to you, Michelle. I’m not here to judge you, I’m here to help. If you feel like showing me what you wrote I can promise you I will keep your complete confidence, if you don’t feel comfortable sharing it with me that is all right as well.” Lisa leaned forward a little bit. “The human mind is a very weird and wonderful place, but it can also be completely irrational. Sometimes we do things or react in ways that don’t make any sense on the outside because of things from our past.”

Michelle wanted to argue that blaming her past for her present was a bunch of psychobabble bullshit, but that wasn’t true. If she believed that then she would have to believe that Wyatt’s PTSD wasn’t real, and she knew that wasn’t true.
She’d seen firsthand what his memories did and if she was being honest with herself, and she was really trying to be, she had her own form of PTSD that was fucking up her life, except hers seemed to be more guilt based than Wyatt’s.

A small chime sounded and Lisa stood. “Thank you for coming to see me today, Michelle. It took a lot of courage for you to walk through that door.”

Michelle stood as well, feeling uncomfortable as she looked at the stranger that suddenly knew so much about her. “Thanks for taking the time to listen to me.”

Lisa went over to the side table by the front door and picked up what looked like a business card. “Here, this has my number on it. Feel free to call me any time of the day or night if you want to talk.”

“Thanks.” She slipped the piece of paper into her pants pocket and took a deep breath. “When can I see you again?”

“How about we start off with twice a week?”

She had no idea how long she would be here, that was entirely up to Wyatt and whatever his plans for her were, but she had a feeling it would be for at least a couple more weeks. The idea of only having to see Lisa a few more times made it somehow easier for Michelle. “Sounds good.”

Later that evening, after another enormous dinner that Wyatt made for her, Michelle was standing at the sink, nude, doing the dishes while Wyatt was stretched out on the hammock on the deck, reading a book as the sun set over the ocean. While doing chores sucked, it felt good in a kind of domestic way to be doing such a mundane task. It made her feel almost normal, in an odd way. Well, except for the naked part.

Wyatt hadn’t spoken to her much on the ride home, but once again
, he held her hand. She wanted to ask him about his session, how he was doing with his PTSD, all the things she could focus on other than her own issues, but he still wasn’t allowing her to speak, which she was finding increasingly irritating. In a way it was like her mother’s silent treatment, but instead of ignoring her Wyatt was forcing her to ignore him, but that wasn’t quite right either. If anything, her inability to talk to him made her want to show him her affection physically even more – when he allowed her to.

Though he wasn’t her Dom, he did currently hold the majority of the power in their relationship and he was the one setting the boundaries. It was a very new and odd state of affairs for Michelle. She was used to being the one in charge, the one calling the shots, and she realized that it scared her to put her trust into Wyatt, to give up as much control as she could to him. On some basic level she feared what would happen if she trusted someone completely and it occurred to her that as much as she said she trusted Wyatt, she didn’t really.

Yes, she loved him with everything she had, but she kept waiting for him to leave her, to realize that she wasn’t perfect.

Earlier she’d written the letter to her mother, which ended up being
ten pages, front and back. As she wrote, she remembered a conversation she had with her mother after she found out Owen was seeing Daniella. Michelle had gone to her Mom, crying and hurting, only to have her mother coolly tell Michelle that if she tried harder, if she worked at being everything Owen needed, he wouldn’t need to see another woman. At the time, her mother’s words devastated her and only added to Michelle’s feelings of guilt about not being good enough for Owen. But now that she thought back on it, she realized it was right around the same time her father had begun to have an affair with one of his aides, an affair her mother probably already suspected, and Michelle couldn’t help but wonder if maybe her mother had been projecting her own insecurity onto her.

With a sigh
, she dried her hands off with the cheery yellow hand towel before hanging it on the oven door handle. She glanced out the sliding glass doors and chewed her lower lip as indecision spun through her. Her first instinct was to go out to Wyatt and drape her body over his and enjoy him as her own personal mattress while the sun finished setting over the Gulf, but she didn’t have that right anymore. She tried to get into her submissive mindset, knowing it would be easier for her if she did, but she just couldn’t. The best she could manage was to endure Wyatt’s dominance over her.

She
walked slowly to the sliding doors, now open to capture the cool breeze and hear the crash of the surf. Wyatt was stretched out in the padded hammock, wearing only a pair of faded jeans and a t-shirt, looking good enough to eat. He had one of his arms behind his head, the firm muscle of his bicep bulging nicely, highlighting his toned physique. While she’d been trying to sleep her life away Wyatt had obviously been taking care of himself, and the thought made her unexpectedly angry.

While she’d been suffering he
was off with Petrov, probably enjoying everything that Chicago had to offer. She knew her mentor well enough to know that both he and his wife would have enjoyed Wyatt’s company. Michelle wondered how many parties Wyatt had attended, how many beautiful female submissives he’d dominated. Jealousy reared its ugly head and she clenched her fists. If she could speak to him right now, she’d demand to know what he’d done with his time and who he’d spent it with. Yes, she knew he said he hadn’t had sex with anyone else but, he had to have at least touched other women to learn whatever it was Petrov taught him.

Knowing Wyatt, he’d probably given those women wonderful orgasms as well. It was in his nature to please women, and if they’d been as needy as she knew he could make her, then she doubted he would have left those women suffering. Rapid fire images
of Wyatt playing with all the equipment at the club, an attentive audience of adoring women watching him work and wishing he was their Dom flashed through her mind. Then a terrible mental image of Mistress Daniella mentoring Wyatt raced through Michelle’s thoughts and she trembled with rage.

The picture of them together
on the Internet of Wyatt dressed in a black suit looking as sexy as always, and Daniella dressed in a little red cocktail dress smiling up at him hit her like a blow to the gut.

As if sensing her, Wyatt looked up from his book with a welcoming smile that quickly faded. “No matter how hard you try, Michelle, you aren’t going to kill me with that angry glare of yours, though I am curious as to what has your panties in such a twist…if you
were wearing any.”

Her nude state further enraged her, anger that he’d denied her the right to wear clothes, making her feel vulnerable physically as well as emotionally.

“One question, Michelle, that’s all you get. Ask whatever it is that’s got you in such a snit.”

“How could you fuck
Daniella?”

With a graceful display of strength he rolled out of the hammock and threw his book onto the deck, his lips firming and his brows drawing down as he gave her a pissed off look that almost knocked her out of her own anger. “You think I fucked her? You think I would sleep with a woman
that I know is a trigger for you? I can’t fucking believe you would think so little of me. I told you I didn’t have sex with anyone while we were apart.”

“What the fuck do
y...”

Before she could finish her statement, his big hand was clamped over her mouth and he pressed her against his body, easily pinning her to his solid
frame. Perversely enough, despite her anger, her body reacted instantly, her pussy softening while her nipples drew up to hard points. It had been far too long since she’d had sexual release of any kind, and she craved Wyatt’s touch, his scent, his taste.

The gentle wind coming in off the water ruffled his dark hair and pressed this close to him she could see the faint amber flecks in his dark eyes. “I said one question
. That’s all you get.”

She had no idea how she could want to choke him and kiss him in the same moment, but she did. Her emotions were like a runaway freight train, as if her mind was making up for the time she’d spent in her fog of depression, her feelings so intense she couldn’t control them. The fact that Wyatt was continuing to take the dominant role in their relationship rankled her and she tried to bite his palm.

She knew that was a mistake the instant her teeth sank into his calloused flesh.

He growled and jerked his hand away, then shoved her to her knees. “Stay there. If you fucking move I swear you’ll spend the night out here Michelle
– alone. I won’t see you or speak to you until the morning.”

Panic
struck and she ducked her head. No, she couldn’t bear not being near him tonight, even if it was chained to his bed. Once again, her insecurity and fear had gotten the better of her and she fucked up, letting her anger and her own self-doubt cause her to strike out at Wyatt. With her mind on her mother all day she couldn’t help but compare her actions to the way she’d watched her mother react all her life. Lash out, refuse to believe that she was worth Wyatt’s love, and let her doubt hurt them both.

By the time Wyatt returned she was biting back tears, wondering why he was even bothering with her. She was so fucked up, so cruel to him. He didn’t deserve to be yelled at, especially since he was obviously trying so hard to help her. If he was just interested in dominating her for a thrill, or revenge, he wouldn’t have arranged counseling for both of them. Hell, he wouldn’t have even come back for her in the first place. She was so unworthy
of him, so sorry for constantly doubting him, and her heart ached.

“Follow me with your eyes
to the floor.”

She stood, her knees
throbbing a bit from kneeling on the hard wood, and dutifully followed him into the house.

The sun had almost completely set and Wyatt had turned on one low watt lamp in the living room. She
took a quick glance around and drew in a soft breath. He’d moved the furniture back, and in place of the coffee table was a purple velvet sex wedge. The almost triangle-shaped piece of velvet covered foam could be used to help a submissive hold a variety of positions for an extended period of time. Like bent over it so her ass was in the air and her face angled to the ground, or on her back with the little pillow cushioning her head so her hips were up in the air for a deeper penetration, or any of a thousand other positions.

Her desire roared to life and she swore
the hair on her arms stood up as her skin became sensitized to the point where the faintest breeze felt like a stroke against her.

“I want you over the wedge
on your stomach, with your ass in the air.”

The deep command in Wyatt’s voice sent chills through her even as she wanted to be the one to order him on the wedge with his ass in the air. The thought of being able to touch his perfect butt, to spank it, to make him come with his
rear end burning from her smacks sent a chill racing down her spine that settled in her dripping wet pussy. Embarrassment heated her cheeks as she realized the position would expose her aroused state to Wyatt and she bit her lip as she carefully leaned over the wedge, the downward angle enough to send a rush of blood to her face but not extreme enough to make her pass out if she laid there for an extended period of time.