“Jesse Colter never exaggerates,” Clay responded.
“I can see that. That is something I will definitely have to remember. I’m just glad Mr. Burke and Dr. Stanhope are safe.”
“That makes two of us. And she’s no longer Dr. Stanhope,” Clay added with a smile. “She’s Mrs. Clay Nighthorse. We got married this morning.”
“Well, congratulations, my boy!” Doyle exclaimed jovially, pumping Clay’s hand. “But that makes it twice as bad that you had to go through this on your wedding day. We’ll do everything we can to give you all the assistance you need.”
“Thanks, Doyle.”
Clay walked Leah into the bathroom, holding her with one arm while he turned on the water and adjusted the temperature. She stood, mute and unmoving, sobbing softly, her face tight with pain, as he unzipped the back of her dress and let it fall over her hips down to the floor. With exquisite tenderness, he spanned her waist and lifted her into the shower. “Hold on, baby,” he said guiding her right hand to one of the tile walls, “I’ll be right in. I’ll take good care of you.”
With a shuddering sigh, she braced her hand against the cool tile, listening to the rustle of his clothing as he undressed. Her teeth were chattering. She was shivering uncontrollably.
Clay stepped in behind her and ducked her head under the hot spray. For a few seconds the water running down the drain was stained red. He lathered shampoo into her hair then washed her from head to toe, his hands thorough and gentle, especially on her scraped elbows and knees and over the bruises beginning to purple on her upper arms, her neck and along her jaw line.
Turning her to face him, he bent his head and kissed both her swollen eyelids, then her purpling cheekbones. “I’m sorry,” he whispered between kisses. “I’m so, so sorry.” He proceeded to kiss every mark left on her body by Richard Gordon’s violence, from her head to her toes. “I let you down, baby. I wasn’t there when you needed me. I’ll never forgive myself.”
“No, no,” she whispered through her sobs. ‘It’s not your fault, Clay. You couldn’t have known.” In spite of the steam-filled compartment, she couldn’t stop shivering. Clay adjusted the temperature of the water, making it warmer. ‘That better, baby?”
A second wave of tears tore through her. He pulled her into his arms and just held her, rocking her back and forth. “Don’t cry, baby,” he whispered, his own throat once again thick with tears. “Please don’t cry. He’ll never hurt you again. No one will ever hurt you again. They’ll have to go through me first. I should have taken you with me. God, I should have taken you with me!” His voice was filled with anguish and it took him a minute to regain even a modicum of control over his ragged emotions. Finally he took a deep, slow breath. “Okay, love, I’m gonna let go of you—just for a moment,” he added hastily when she let out a tiny whimper and shook her head. “I’m just gonna give myself a quick wash, then we’ll get out.” He let go of her, but she didn’t let go of him. When he turned to face the spray, she leaned against his back, her right arm around his waist, her cheek nestled between his shoulder blades, still shivering despite the heat from the water. He turned the water off and turned around. His arms went around her and he backed out of the stall, helping her step over the sill. She groaned in pain at the stiffness that had already begun to settle into her muscles.
Desolation swept through Clay, making him ache as badly as if he had been the one shoved down the stairs. In fact, he wished he had been. Anything to have spared her the pain she was now enduring. He had never felt so helpless in his life. It was a feeling he didn’t like, not one little bit.
Leah stood like a statue and let him dry her, then himself, dressing quickly in a set of green scrubs. He was down on one knee, urging her to lift her foot to step into a similar pair of pants, when a doctor walked in. “Mr. Nighthorse?”
“Call me Clay,” Clay responded, raising his head just enough to give the doctor the once over.
The doctor was in his mid-forties, medium build, brown hair, brown eyes, dressed in blue scrubs and a white lab coat. Tapes hung from his dangling face mask and a stethoscope was draped around his neck. “Clay,” he agreed. “I’m Dr. Evans, Chief of Emergency Services. Don’t dress her just yet. I’m going to need to see all her injuries.” He shook the hand Clay reached up, then turned to Leah with a bright smile. “Dr. Stanhope, why don’t you hop up onto the bed here and let me take a look at you.” The doctor lowered the side rail.
Clay, knowing how stiff she was becoming, helped her up to sit on the edge of the bed. He looked at her, wishing there were something he could do. She appeared dazed, white-faced with pain, not even seeming to realize or even care that she was naked. And then he realized what the doctor had just called her. “Sorry, Doc, she’s not Dr. Stanhope any more. She’s Mrs. Clay Nighthorse. We just got married.”
The doctor beamed. “Well, that’s wonderful. Congratulations and best wishes to both of you.” He shook Clay’s hand again, then turned his attention to Leah. “Now, young lady, let’s have a look at you.” He noted the downward slope of her left shoulder, the forearm acros her abdomen supported by her right hand. “Looks like you have indeed dislocated your shoulder.” Moving to stand to her left, he bent forward. With gentle hands he gripped her by the elbow and wrist, giving her arm firm support. “I need you to sit up straight and straighten your back and shoulders as much as you possibly can. Just try to relax for me, okay? And let’s see if we can get this back into place.” With slow, sure movements, he rotated her forearm outward until her fingers were pointing straight forward, even as he also pushed her upper arm in against her side.
In spite of his gentleness, Leah’s sharply inhaled breath hissed between her teeth. She closed her eyes, her face scrunched up in pain. She couldn’t stop a whimper.
“I know, baby, I know,” Clay crooned in a low voice, moving to stand at her right side, picking up her right hand and holding it against his cheek. “I wish I could tell you different, but this is gonna hurt like a son of a bitch. I know from personal experience. I’ve dislocated both my shoulders. It will be easier if you can relax your muscles as much as possible. Can you blow out your breath in short little puffs? Yes, like that.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Exactly like that, my love. That’s my good girl.” He nodded to the doctor.
Still holding her by the wrist and the upper arm. Evans said, “Let me know when you feel resistance.” Using her forearm like a lever, he pushed it wider, rotating her upper arm farther outward until she let out a cry. Her shoulder dipped. “Okay, that’s good. That’s good.” Still moving slowly and as gently as possible, he manipulated her upper arm out , up, and back.
“Ow!” Leah cried. “Ow! Owowowowow!!”
Evans pushed the lever of her forearm back toward her body. When it once again passed the mid-way point, heading back across her abdomen, there was a sudden, loud snap as the shoulder joint popped back into place. Leah screamed and began sobbing, hunched over in pain. “Very good,” Evans said, pride evident in his voice. “The worst is over.” Until he took a really good look at her gray, pasty complexion, the sweat beading on her forehead and upper lip, and the vacant look in her tear-filled eyes.
“Jesus, Doc, she’s going into shock,” Clay exclaimed.
Doctor Evans placed his hand behind Leah’s head, swung her legs up onto the bed and gently laid her down. Then he pressed the nurse’s call button while Clay took the pillow from the head of the bed and placed it beneath her feet.
“Nurse’s station,” came a disembodied voice over the PA system.
“This is Dr. Evans in Room 209. Could I please get a heated blanket? I have a patient here who is in shock. I’ll also need an arm sling.”
“Of course, Doctor. Right away.”
Less than thirty seconds later, a nurse walked in with a light blue hospital blanket, which she placed over Leah’s legs and abdomen. Leah let out a luxuriant sigh. “Sit up, sweetie,” the nurse instructed, helping Leah up to a sitting position. She plac
ed the sling around her shoulders and positioned her left forearm in the cradle. “Excellent. Now lie back down.” As soon as Leah did so, the nurse pulled the blanket up to her chin, cocooning her in heat from head to toe..
“Oh, my God,” Leah groaned as the blissful warmth enveloped her. “This is sheer heaven. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I was beginning to think I’d never be warm again.”
Dr. Evans chuckled. “Yeah, most of our patients appreciate our blanket warmer.”
While Clay gathered up their bloody clothing and stuffed it into a garbage bag, the doctor gave Leah a thorough, no-nonsense examination, exposing only one section of her body at a time, keeping the rest of her beneath the blanket so she could stay as warm as possible. He talked to her the entire time, cleaning her scrapes, inspecting the bruising not only on her neck and face, but also on her arms, back, legs, abdomen, and rib cage. And she just lay there and let him do it, her only reaction an occasional hiss when he touched a particularly tender spot. When he was done, he left her lying in the bed and motioned Clay aside. “She’s bruised and battered and I believe she might have a slight concussion. I know you want to get her home as soon as possible, but I would really like to keep her overnight so we can monitor her.”
Clay nodded. “As long as I can stay with her.”
Evans just grinned. “I’d hate to be the one to try and stop you.” He sobered. “Keep your eye on her over the next days, weeks, and months. The minute she starts to exhibit any signs of PTSD, you know, like nightmares, anxiety, detachment, etc., make sure she talks to a counselor. I can recommend a few.”
Clay grinned. “Thanks. I know a few myself. A year and a half ago I was working undercover to take down Europe’s major sex trafficking ring. We got the bastards, but it was a brutal, dehumanizing assignment and when I got back stateside, I realized that I desperately needed to talk to someone. Jesse Colter recommended Dr. Art Portman.”
Doctor Evans smiled. “You were in good hands, then. Portman’s at the top of my list. Especially since he recently relocated his practice from Seattle to Richmond.” He shook Clay’s hand again. “I’ll check in on her first thing in the morning and let you know if she can be released. See you then.”
“Thanks, Doc. For everything.”
* * * *
Two months later.
Leah walked into the bedroom and stopped short, staring in amazement. Clay stood in the center of the room wearing black leather pants with buckles up the sides and heavy biker boots. His broad chest was bare, his hair an inky curtain flowing down over his shoulders and back. A black silk scarf draped over his hand. He looked…God, he looked…she just shook her head in awe, unable to find the words to describe how he looked. With his coppery-bronze skin, aquiline nose, those high cheekbones and full lips, he was primal. Elemental. A savage warrior, utterly masculine, with an almost ruthless lethality. Clay Nighthorse had it all. And all that undiluted male power was focused directly on her, making her achingly aware of the fact that she was naked beneath her dress, and wearing a large plug up her ass. Biting her lip, she met his gaze. What she saw there sucked the air out of her lungs, stealing her breath on a wave of lust.
“Strip, little sub. Keep the heels.” He spoke in that cool, impersonal voice she was coming to think of as his ‘Dom’ voice. Because that’s exactly what it was. Dominant. Dominating. Domineering. All of those and more. A voice that gave her no choice but to obey, because obedience meant pleasure and she was coming to crave that above all things. A thought that, with anyone other than Clay, would have filled her with dread and anxiety. Instead, because it was Clay, it filled her with lust and longing and a hunger so fierce, she thought it would consume her.
“Yes, Sir.” Biting her lip, she reached behind her back to unzip her yellow sundress with the field of daisies growing up the skirt. It was one of nearly two dozen that Clay had bought her a couple of days ago at a sexy little shop in Norfolk. She let the sleeveless bodice slide down her arms to gather briefly at her waist before gravity pulled the entire dress to the floor to lie in a puddle around her feet. She stood there totally naked, wearing only the stilettos he’d also bought her.
“Step out. Stand in the ‘Present’ position like I taught you.”
With a little frisson of anticipation mixed with apprehension, Leah stepped over the fabric circle. Then she stood, legs shoulder-width apart, hands behind her back grasping opposite elbows, head up, eyes locked with his. She could feel the heat of his gaze as it raked up and down her naked body like a physical caress. Her belly rolled and hot cream gushed between her legs and began to dribble down the insides of her thighs like thick, warm honey. She felt like she should say something—anything—but nothing came to mind. Any words she might have come up with got tangled in her throat, leaving her mute and compliant. Her gaze faltered and she lowered her head
Jesus Christ! Clay’s blood rushed from his head straight to his groin, hardening his cock so fast, he nearly swallowed his tongue. If he didn’t get himself under control right now, he was going to be buried balls deep in her steamy cunt, fucking her to orgasm, and this evening would be over in less than a minute. And that would never do because he had big plans for his little sub. Plans that would immerse her in so much pleasure, she’d think she was drowning in it and would be forced to cling to him to keep from going under. Drawing air deep into his lungs, he held it there for a slow count of ten, then slowly, slowly, let it out. When he spoke, he was pleased that his voice managed to sound cool and impersonal. “Are Everett and Daniel settled for the night?”
Leah had just come in from checking on her uncle and kissing him and Daniel good-night. After showing them the five-carat diamond engagement ring with matching, diamond-studded wedding band Clay had presented her with that very morning, following a long, languid bout of lovemaking, after which he’d plugged her ass with the largest Princess plug in the set, one with a sparkling emerald at the base.
It had been two months since her Uncle Everett’s heart attack and since she’d nearly been killed by Richard Gordon. Five weeks since Everett had been released from the hospital and Clay and Leah had taken him to the ranch to recuperate. Daniel Rayburn had arrived three weeks ago to help care for his long-time companion. He had closed Everett’s San Francisco gallery indefinitely until the two men could decide what to do with it. They were ensconced in the giant king size bed in the second master suite at the opposite end of the upstairs hallway from Clay and Leah’s bedroom. After only two days of being at home, Everett had started losing that frail, old-man look that he’d had in the ICU in San Francisco. He’d spent part of every afternoon sitting in the sunshine out on the balcony outside his and Daniel’s room, and had developed quite a tan. All three of them, Everett, Daniel, and Leah, were now accomplished horseback riders and often rode off together, following the various trails that meandered in all directions from the ranch house in the center, like anchor threads of a spider’s web. But only Clay and Leah went to the clearing with the waterfall. Everyone on the ranch respected that as their private place.
“Yes, Sir,” she answered Clay’s question, slightly breathless with anticipation. Tonight would be their first real scene since her encounter with Richard Gordon. Oh, they had made love, of course. But her shoulder was still healing, so it had been mostly vanilla sex and Leah had definitely started to miss the edge and the thrill of a real D/s scene. She didn’t know what Clay had planned for tonight, but she was looking forward to it with great anticipation and more than just a little trepidation. All she knew was it was going to be intense. The size of the plug in her ass told her that.
“Close your eyes,” he commanded. She did so, swaying slightly. She heard his quiet footsteps approaching her, felt the heat of his body against her bare belly and thighs as he stood before her, admiring the view. He crowded her, invading her personal space until all she could think about was his very large, very male, impossibly hard body. Then his hands lifted to stroke the sides of her breasts igniting her nerve e
ndings, sending goose bumps rippling up and down her arms and back. Her belly clenched, spilling cream out into her slit.
His hands moved to frame the sides of her head, lifting her face to his. “Look at me, baby.” Her eyes fluttered open. He stared at her, awed by the hot need he saw shimmering in their green depths.. “Christ, Leah. You’re so goddamn gorgeous.” He slid his hands down her neck, across her shoulders, down her arms, landing briefly on her waist before sliding around her back, and down the curve of her buttocks. He latched onto her ass cheeks, hefting them several times, making them jiggle. “Gorgeous,” he repeated, releasing her and walking around to stand behind her. He hefted her buttocks again, admiring her jiggling flesh. “Legs farther apart,” he ordered, barely giving her enough time to move before plowing a hand between her legs and through her entire slit from back to front, letting his fingers dance around her clit before thrusting the middle two into her vagina. She let out a shivery little shriek, taking a few mincing steps in her stilettos as pleasure steamrollered over her. “Clay…”
“Silence.” She compressed her lips between her teeth while he continued playing with her, building her pleasure one brick at a time. “Stop squirming.”
She tried, honest, she did. But she couldn’t hold herself still as pleasure rained down on her like a meteor shower.
His lips pursed as if he were deep in thought. “You seem to be having difficulty following even the simplest of commands this evening, little sub,” he observed. “That leads me to believe that a bit of discipline is in order.”
Discipline! Oh. My. God!
He bent his head and licked her ear, her subsequent squeals and wriggles of pleasure making him chuckle. “Yes, a little discipline is definitely in order.” He sucked her earlobe into his mouth and nipped it before stepping back away from her, taking his heat with him. “Close your eyes, love.”
Uh-oh. This can’t be good.
Passion's Dream (The Doms of Passion Lake Book 1) Page 25