Salvation

by Jane Henry

  I like the feel of his hand on me so much more than the things he’s used.

  Several minutes pass while he just holds me and helps me adjust to coming down. “Well, that was all noted for the next book,” I mutter. “You do have a devious mind sometimes, don’t you?”

  “Not sometimes. All the time. You better now?”

  “I think so.”

  “Okay, then let’s get you dressed and home.”

  My stomach drops. “Maybe I’m not better,” I amend. “Maybe my stomach hurts a little.”

  He reaches for my chin and lifts my gaze up. “I want the truth, Chandra.”

  He can’t have the truth. Not now. I can’t bring myself to say all the things I want to. But it turns out I don’t have to.

  “Give me a mask,” I whisper, the first words of an Oscar Wilde quote that’s come to me out of nowhere.

  “And I’ll tell you the truth,” he finishes. He shakes his head at me. “You won’t quote yourself out of this one. There are no masks. Now tell me.”

  “Honestly?” my voice comes out on a shaky whisper. “I forgot what we were talking about.” And I have. Staring into those eyes that once loved me, I forgive him. It’s a baptism by fire. I’ve been thrown into this pit and scourged clean of what plagued me. My love of Noah has never left me; I loved him then and I love him now. It’s myself that I blamed, under the guise of blaming him. But here, stripped down and exposed, I’m once more the girl who loved him. I can’t remember what we were talking about. I can’t remember why I was angry at him. And when he bends down and touches his lips to mine, I forget my own name.

  Our breath mingles, my body rises, and I wrap my hands around the strong column of his neck while he holds me. The world around me darkens as I submerge fully into him. I’m drowning but not afraid, for this little death slays the last of my fears. With his mouth on mine, I’m his again. Maybe I never stopped being his. He kisses me with the tenderness and desperation of a long-lost lover. I’m breathless, boneless, and utterly his. When he pulls his mouth off mine I whisper a tortured, “Noah.”

  “Chandra,” he whispers back, turning to lay me gently on the bed. “We can’t do this.”

  “Why not?” I ask him, angry and desperate, but when I meet his eyes, I don’t see the tortured man I expect, but instead that look of firm decision I’m so familiar with.

  He takes my hand and squeezes. “I want to take you right now. I want to make love to you until you can’t remember your own name and fuck you until you scream mine.”

  “Then do it,” I say, already knowing my plea will fall on deaf ears. Once he’s made up his mind, there’s no turning back.

  “Not now,” he says. A muscle in his jaw twitches. “You’re not in your right frame of mind. I’d be taking advantage.”

  Who is he to say what frame of mind I’m in? Like a silly, spoiled child, I grab the pillow off the bed and whip it at him, but he catches it before it hits him and places it back on the bed.

  “Enough, Chandra.” He raises one finger in warning. “You behave yourself.”

  I bite my lip. Throwing a tantrum never got me my way with him and it won’t now. Anyway, I’m better than that.

  “Mad,” I whisper. He isn’t even touching me, but I need to safeword. It’s too late, though. He’s already ended the scene, and I’m just grappling for control he won’t give me.

  “Good girl.” He tugs a lock of my hair and despite my frustration, I smile a little. I still like being his good girl. “Get yourself dressed, and I’ll take you home.”

  He walks out of the room. It isn’t until he’s gone that I notice my clothes lie next to the bed, neatly folded and ready for me to wear. He must have brought them in while I was sleeping. I dress with trembling fingers. Dressing feels like a failure somehow, like I didn’t pass the test. Was there a test?

  Even though I don’t want this to end, I wonder if he has a point. I folded like a house of cards when he kicked the kink level up a notch. Maybe I do need to be eased into this. I’m still not exactly sure what happened here.

  He called this scene to an end. Or did I?

  But this isn’t over.

  Chapter Ten

  Axle

  While she dresses, I make one more round through Verge, making sure that everything’s secured. I considered staying here, but it’s time to get her home, and I want to be sure she gets there safely.

  The real reason I’m making one last visit through the club is because I need to get a handle on myself, and I can’t be near her right now. I’m so fucking hard it hurts to walk, but it’s more than that. I’m an addict in withdrawal who can’t be satisfied until I give into my craving. But not like this. Not when she’s stripped and bared and drunk on submission. I need to know when I take her again that she’s fully consenting and not under duress.

  It felt good to play with her. To have her at my mercy. Chandra’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on, it makes my cock throb just thinking about how it felt inflicting pain on her willing body. The cuffs and flogger were good in their own right, but I liked when I actually touched her. My mouth is branded with the taste of her skin, my senses filled with the scent of her arousal. I slam the door to the breakroom harder than necessary, take out my phone, and dial Tobias.

  “Hey.”

  “How are things going?” I ask.

  “Good. Chad had the day off from school, Diana’s working from home, and we’re taking it slow. You?”

  “Good,” I tell him. “But it’s time I get…” I pause. How much do I tell him? “I gotta get my guest home. Looks like the snow’s dying down.”

  “Sounds good. Later, fill me in about that guest of yours?”

  My jaw ticks as I stare at the wall. If I tell him no, he’ll respect that and won’t ask again.

  “Yeah. But when the time is right, okay? She’s an old flame and I’m not sure where this is going yet.”

  “Of course,” he says. “Thanks for everything. I’ll stay closed tonight, but we’ll open back up again tomorrow. Sound good?”

  “I’m there.”

  I disconnect the call and turn to see Chandra in the doorway. She’s dressed in the clothes from the night before, her hair slightly disheveled. She wears no make-up or jewelry, but her hair shines and her face glows, and she looks like an angel.

  “Old flame?” she asks. “What is this, 1950?”

  I take her hand and swat her pretty ass. “Yep. Walking out of here with a bonafide throwback, babe. You game?”

  She shrugs. “We’ll see.” She’s subdued now and lost the saucy brattiness she got when she tossed the pillow at me. I’m a little disappointed. Though I want her submission, I like the little vixen in her. Still, I won’t let her act out to get what she wants. I’ll give her space to really figure that out and right now, she needs time.

  I get our coats and we pull them on.

  “Where to?” I ask. God, this is killing me. It feels like there are too many layers between us now, too much padding. My balls are heavy and aching, my cock tight and swollen. I want to scene with her to completion… again, and again, and again.

  More than that, though, I don’t want to let her go, back into the wide, wide world, with no one to protect her. No one to make sure she’s safe. No way of knowing she’ll come back to me.

  “Oh, I’ll just get a cab,” she says, gesturing at the big black entryway door.

  Oh hell no, we’re not playing that game.

  I shake my head. “I’m going with you. Cab it is. Address?”

  Her lips pull down in a frown. “Alright, then,” she finally says. “But you’re not coming up.”

  “I wouldn’t ask,” I tell her. “And that’s fine.”

  She looks to me expectantly like she expects me to argue the point, but I’m not playing any games with her. I jumped in too fast, too soon. Under the guise of helping her, I pursued my own selfish needs. What we had once is gone, and we aren’t the people we once were. Will we ever be the sam
e?

  It’s freezing cold outside. Her breath comes in billowy clouds, and I can’t help myself. I make sure she’s good and warm, with her jacket pulled snugly around her. The snow’s plowed on the street and sidewalks but stands in large drifts on both sides of the streets. It’s surreal, too quiet here while we’re surrounded by snow. We hail down a cab, I open the door and gesture for her to get in, then I slide in beside her. She gives the driver her address.

  We sit in silence as he drives toward her home, until I finally break it.

  “I never expected seeing you at Verge,” I tell her.

  “Mmm,” is all she says.

  I need to know if she’s coming back. “Are you planning on returning?”

  “Definitely.” She’s looking out her window and tapping her fingers on her knee.

  Definitely? She’s coming back, but she hasn’t made plans with me. If she comes back here and hooks up with another dom—

  “When is that?” I can’t keep the bite out of my tone.

  Frowning, she looks my way. “When I decide to.”

  God, I want to put her over my lap and spank that sass right out of her, to make her open up again, but it’s not my privilege and I can’t dom her into trusting me. I need to earn that privilege.

  “Is that right?” I ask, trying to keep my tone even, but failing. I sound like a cockblocked teen.

  “Yeah,” she says.

  I blow out a breath. “You’re not scening with another dom.”

  Her mouth drops open and she stares at me before she speaks. “So let me get this straight,” she says. “You won’t touch me, yet you won’t allow another dom to?”

  “Who said I wouldn’t touch you?” I ask. “Sweetheart, I did a hell of a lot more than touch you.”

  Her cheeks flame and she turns to looks out the window. She mutters something under her breath, but I don’t catch it.

  “What’s that?”

  “Nothing.”

  God, I should have spanked her harder.

  “Chandra.”

  “I said yes, you did.” She sighs.

  “Okay, fine,” I tell her. “Let’s compromise.”

  Pursing her lips, she raises a brow to me and crosses her arms on her chest. Yeah, I definitely could’ve plied that flogger a little better.

  “Yeah? What’s your compromise?”

  “If you want to come to the club and scene, you call me. I’ll be your dom for the night. But we don’t kiss, and we definitely don’t fuck.”

  She huffs out a breath and rolls her eyes, but her cheeks are a little pink.

  “I’ll think about it,” she says.

  The cab pulls to a stop outside a tall building with mirrored windows. “Your place?” I ask.

  She nods and hesitates.

  I want to leave with her. Go upstairs. Jesus, I want to. But I don’t trust myself. And I know she needs distance from me. Still, I have to see her in safely.

  “I’ll take you in to make sure you’re safe, but then I have to head home myself.”

  She starts to hand money to the driver, but I pull it back and pay him myself.

  We exit the cab. I want to take her hand but there’s this air between us, a wall I can’t take down, not yet. She’s angry at me and she has a right to be. I took advantage today. I did it under the guise of giving her what she needed, but I know better.

  “Nice place,” I say.

  Jesus. Lame.

  I shove my hands in my pockets as we ride the elevator to the fifth floor.

  “Thank you,” she says absentmindedly. “My mom would lose her mind.”

  She would. She always wanted her daughter to live in opulence, unscathed by the common people.

  “She would, but that doesn’t matter.” I ignore how she relaxes a little when I say that, like she needed permission to not give a shit. “How long have you been here?” The elevator swoops upward.

  “A year. Where do you live?”

  “I have a one-bedroom apartment not far from Verge,” I tell her. “Takes fifteen minutes by taxi, but it’s not far from the repair shop and I spend most nights in the private room anyway.”

  “It’s like your bunker.”

  “You could say that.”

  “Tell me about the shop?”

  We talk about our jobs for a minute, but then we’re at her floor.

  “So I’m… okay now,” she says. “You can go now… Axle.”

  I don’t want to leave her. There’s a tugging in my gut that tells me to stay, that she needs me tonight. I put her through hell today, and I don’t like leaving her alone. I’ve split her open and now I’m leaving her, raw and exposed.

  “You sure you’re okay?” I ask. “We went through a lot today.”

  She blinks and looks away. “I’m good,” she says to her shoes. “I want to get some sleep tonight. I have work early tomorrow morning.”

  I nod. I have to respect that she hasn’t invited me in, and she wants some time to herself. What the hell’s wrong with me? I went seven years without seeing her and now the thought of one night makes me clench my fists.

  She opens her door and stands tentatively in the doorway. “Good night,” she says. This is wrong. God, this is so damn wrong.

  Fuck this.

  I lean in, grab a fistful of her thick, fragrant hair, and yank her head back. When her mouth falls open I capture it with a kiss that tells her that I don’t care if seven minutes or seven years has passed, I own this mouth. Her palm is pressed up against my chest. She doesn’t push me away but fists my shirt, clenching it between taut fingers. When she has a good, firm grip, she tugs me closer to her.

  Hell no.

  Without thinking, I wrap my hand around her wrists, removing her grip on me, and backpedal her until she’s flush against the doorframe. I pin both arms to her sides and glide my tongue against hers, a silent command to surrender. She melts against me and submits to my mouth.

  She’ll submit to all of me.

  In time.

  She leans in for more, my cue to pull apart and leave her with the memory of what she wants.

  “Sleep well,” I whisper in her ear. Her cheeks are flushed, her pupils dilated, and it takes all my self-control to walk away from her and not push her back into that apartment and claim her hard and fast up against the door.

  I will.

  She nods, then turns away, shutting the door behind her. I wait until I hear the click of locks fastening before I leave, and then I remember.

  I don’t even have her cell phone number. God.

  Guess I’ll be paying a visit to Marla’s bright and early tomorrow morning.

  I wake up the next morning early, with Chandra on my mind, so fucking hard I throw the sheets down and hit the shower before I can lay in bed and dwell. I’m too much of the good Catholic boy to rub one off in the shower. It’s a point of pride with me. I’m stronger than my most base urges, and I don’t fuck around. I welcome the discomfort so I can stay focused.

  Today’s my day off from my day job. Marla put in a special order for me, and I told her I’d pick that up on my day off.

  And Chandra will be there.

  After getting dressed and grabbing a quick breakfast, I check my phone. I’ve got four messages. I sit at the bar in my kitchen, sipping coffee, and read a message from Tobias.

  Tobias: Snow’s cleared. See you tonight?

  Hell yes.

  A second message is from Zack.

  Zack: Morning. Tobias called me, says there’s concerning footage on the security feed from the night you were on as DM. Talk tonight?

  I’ll be there.

  But when I go to put my phone down, a message flashes across the screen from a number I don’t recognize.

  Hi. Marla gave me your number. It’s Chandra.

  My heartbeat quickens like a teenager’s, but I keep my shit together and reply.

  Morning, Chandra. Did you sleep well?

  Chandra: Yes, thank you. You?

  I smirk at the pho
ne. I slept like shit, tossing and turning with thoughts of her and our past, and woke this morning with morning wood so hard I could’ve cracked diamonds with it.

  Yeah, it was alright. Heading to work soon?

  Chandra: Yes. Hey, I just wanted to thank you for yesterday.

  Thank me? What the hell is she talking about?

  You don’t have anything to thank me for, but you’re welcome.

  Chandra: Do you still drink your coffee black with two sugars?

  I smile.

  Yeah.

  Chandra: Come meet me early at the shop, and I’ll make you a cup?

  I grin.

  See you soon.

  I toss my cup in the sink, grab a coat, and head out the door before I even think about what I’m doing, and almost collide into a little ball of blonde-haired, blue-eyed energy standing right outside the door.

  “Good morning, Mr. Rivet.” Kylie, the kindergartner next door, pirouettes right in front of me and nearly topples over with the weight of her bag.

  “Kylie! Leave Mr. Rivet alone. You shouldn’t be doing your dance moves in the hallway. Wait until we’re outside.” Kylie’s mom Abigail corrects her. I give Abigail a smile to let her know it’s fine. Her mouse brown hair is pulled back into a thick braid, and she’s already dressed in her waitress uniform. She smiles back.

  “Nah, she’s fine, Abigail. How are you?” I lock the door and pocket the key before turning to face them.

  Leaning in to zip her daughter’s coat, she says, “Oh, I’m good.”

  “Mama has a date tonight!” the little girl chirps.

  “Hush, Kylie.” But Abigail’s cheek flush. She’s a pretty, young woman I’ve known for a few years now, since her daughter was only a toddler.

  “Oh?”