Standing in the aisle, she stripped at warp speed, offering him tantalizing glimpses of flesh until the whole of her was revealed. Clothes scattered over the floor of the plane, she all but threw herself belly-down on the cool table with her ass jutting off the end. White-knuckled hands gripped the sides of the table as she nearly howled. “Please, Sir!”
Slowly, he released himself and rose from his seat, positioning himself behind her. His already substantial erection hardened painfully at the sight of her upturned ass and the bulb of ginger poking between her cheeks. Not to mention the wetness shining on her thighs and the sweet pussy clenching and releasing in reflex. No longer prettily pink but the angry hue of urgent arousal, peeking between plump, parted labia.
Amusing himself, torturing her, he sank his fingers into hot, wet heaven and pressed his thumb against the ginger root, pushing it a fraction deeper. Her hips bucked and a moan filled the cabin, low and pained. His dick jerked in response; Finn reminded it they'd have to wait a few hours. This was something he needed her to remember for a long time to come, and an orgasm smoothing out the edges of discomfort wouldn't work in his favor.
“What have we learned this afternoon?” he asked her conversationally, rolling his thumb around on the root. Her cunt clamped down on his fingers, sucking him in as if pleading with him when her voice failed her.
“Please, Master Finnegan...” Her breath exploded on a harsh sob. “I won't do anything without thinking, ever again.”
“That's what I like to hear, good girl. You need to remember that, little dove, because next time, I'll leave it in for an hour. Then two. You're the most important person in the world to me, and if we have to keep repeating this lesson until you learn to take a breath and react sensibly, then this is what we'll do.” Twisting his fingers, he added a third and brought her up onto her toes. It brought back wonderful memories of restraining her to the exam table in Black Light, her pussy surrounding his hand in tight, hot flesh spasming with orgasm. “As for the evasion and making us late, I think six for each should set things right.”
“Y-Yes, Sir.”
“Breathe with me, Ava.” He rested his free hand between her shoulder blades and inhaled deeply. After a long moment, he felt her draw in a shaky breath. He coached her through the discomfort, focused her attention onto him as best she could, until she calmed and fell into sync with him.
With her head in a more accepting frame of mind, he eased his fingers from her pussy and brought his hand down on her left cheek with a resounding wet slap. She jumped, her fingers flexing their grip on the table. No warm-up this time, no niceties. Just the hot sting of a spanking to add to the one gnawing at more sensitive flesh.
When the twelve strikes had landed, her ass was a ripe shade of rose. His palm was hot, but Finn was willing to bet her butt felt worse. His sub cried into the wood, her hands frozen to the edges, and his heart ached. He was gentle with the removal of the ginger, returning it to its baggie for disposal, but he heard her swallow a wail. Plaintive and hurting. “You've been brave, little dove. I'm very proud of you.”
Digging through his many pockets, he found another clean kerchief and cleaned up the mess between her thighs, paying special attention to the redness of her pucker. No damage done, but she was going to feel the effects for quite a while longer, the lesson seeping in well beyond the end of the punishment.
He bent and kissed her shoulders, his erection digging into her ass as he leaned over her. “You can get dressed now, darlin'. The punishment is over. Stand up now, there's a good girl.” He helped her up, bracing her as she swayed. When he was sure she was steady enough to manage by herself, he slid into his seat, then moved into hers by the window.
To his surprise, she didn't reach for her clothes. Stunningly naked in both body and face, her emotions written devastatingly over her features and in those sad blue eyes, she crawled onto the empty seat and then into him. Burrowing into the cradle of his arms, curling into a ball on his lap, she closed her eyes and tried to climb inside him as his hands rubbed her back.
The afternoon's agitation slipped away, smoothing out the twisted kinks in his composure. He hadn't lied when he said he would never punish her in anger, and truthfully, he really wasn't mad with her. Locking the calf in his office had been more of a prank than anything, which he didn't mind. He loved her playful side emerging, enjoyed the impish part of her she was allowing to surface, but his reasons for using figging to reprimand her were solid.
He had no way of anticipating when she might reach the end of her tether, falling prey to the voice of her father. One unattended moment, a second of capitulation, and her future could come down to a single decision. The scales of life would tip one way or the other based on that choice, and Finn couldn't stand the thought she might make it blindly through fear or resignation or despair.
As she continued to shudder, Finn tapped a button set into a panel in the arm of his seat and heard the purr of the heaters whirring to life an instant before a rush of warm air flowed over them. He could have said something, murmured in her ear, reassured her the way he always did—with his voice. But this time felt different to him, as though she needed the quiet to reflect and gather herself with his strength a silent entity surrounding her.
Things were altering again. In just a few hours, they would meet a woman who had the potential to unleash havoc on their insular world. Finn was under no illusions that raising Ava from the mire was going to be easy. Far from it. With the demons she stowed away, the secrets she kept buried under lock and key, they had a mammoth task ahead of them. He was already digging in and preparing for the long haul, determined to carry her to the fucking finish line if he had to, if it meant she found peace.
He'd done a bit of homework on one Dr. Madeline Parrish. The good doctor was not yet forty, childless, and cohabitating with two FBI agents who were also her Dominants. Well-respected in her chosen field of psychology, well-liked in the club when she and her Doms attended. Her qualifications—personal and professional—were enough to meet Finn's approval.
He wasn't an idiot, he didn't expect the next months, maybe even years, to be smooth sailing. Bad times were coming, waiting on the horizon like a battalion at dawn. Tears, screaming, shouting, throwing kitchen utensils...he was expecting them all and more besides. There'd be days when she couldn't stand the sight of him, days when the memories brought to light crushed her beneath their weight.
Days when living seemed too hard to survive.
Once Madeline opened the floodgates, all bets were off. His job wouldn't be to stand in the path of the surge and take the brunt of its impact. It wouldn't be to protect and defend the love of his life. That knowledge cored him out like a pumpkin on Halloween. As a Dom, it was akin to ripping off his balls and donning a thong to cup his useless dick. Everything he prided himself on being as her Dominant would be set aside to let Ava face her demons and conquer them by herself.
Oh, he understood why it had to be left to Ava. If she didn't slay the demons herself, how could she ever be sure they were really dead? It just didn't sit right in his gut, was all.
His hand travelled from her nape to her ass, gliding over the bumpy curve of her spine. She hadn't moved from her fetal position in his lap, although her skin felt warmer now and the shudders were few and far between. There were no more tears, which was a blessing. Finn didn't care if she cried as hard and as long as she needed, he would see her through it to the other side. But, damn, there were moments when she knotted his heart into a pretzel with the ferocity of her emotions.
He patted her reddened buttock gently, soothing the tender skin with a slow circle of his palm. The heat was already fading from the spanking, but her hips rolled slowly. The juices from the ginger root were still in play, keeping her on edge.
The muscles beneath his hand went lax. Some of the tautness of her position eased, the hand tucked beneath her chin sliding halfway down his chest. He heard a faint snuffle and couldn't help but chuckle. It looked like h
e was stuck here for the foreseeable future, with his submissive naked and asleep, and his cock seriously pissed off it hadn't been given permission to plunder what was theirs.
Shifting slowly, Finn twisted so his back leaned against the window and the landscape passing below in a parade of color. He propped his feet on the edge of the table, stretching out with Ava curled on top of him, and decided if this was his last chance for pure, uncomplicated peace for a while, there were worse ways to spend it than napping with his woman safe in his arms.
* * *
Ava
D.C. didn't hold the same allure as it had only a few weeks ago.
At seven-fifty-five p.m., Ava stood on the sidewalk outside the coffee shop where Finn had agreed to meet Madeline and simply looked around as though she'd never been there before. She had, of course. She'd walked these streets, imagined what it must be like to be someone with the money to step inside the stores and actually buy items instead of lusting after them through the window. The streets hadn't changed, there hadn't been a zombie apocalypse while she was gone, but it no longer felt like home.
She was homesick already. She supposed that spoke volumes as to where she truly belonged and where she believed home was.. Her feet remained planted in place, her weight shifting restlessly as Finn waited for her to gather herself. It didn't help matters that, even after a long hot soak in the whirlpool tub their hotel offered, her ass still sang like a canary.
She didn't want to be here. It would be nice to see Rosie again, but Ava got the impression her best friend had moved on to brighter, happier people in her life. People who suited Rosie's outgoing and impulsive nature. People who didn't cut their wrists to ride a high as intense as any drug.
Ava was pleased for her as much as she was grateful. If Rosie hadn't intervened that night, come home and taken charge, Ava wouldn't be standing here with a big, warm hand keeping her grounded. She wouldn't have known the pleasure of belonging to someone, of being Finn's, and she thought her ghostly apparition might have been seriously pissed if that had happened.
Even Finn's planned excursion to Black Light held little appeal. How could she go to the club and enjoy herself with the threat of a shrink hanging over her head? She didn't want thoughts and worries bouncing around the inner walls of her skull all night, her attention split between obeying Master Finnegan and fending off anxiety attacks. It was a really, really bad idea in her opinion, but she didn't have the heart to disappoint Finn—he was looking forward to visiting the club again, to taking a well-earned break from the past few weeks, and she couldn't deny him that, could she?
But neither did she want to fail him in public. How much enjoyment would he get if she fucked up the night? He'd be embarrassed and upset if she didn't act the way he expected his submissive to behave at a BDSM club. And he'd be completely within his rights to be furious with her.
Why couldn't they just go home? She'd sit through this meeting, be polite and engage with the psychologist as best she could and agree with whatever they decided. Weekly flights from Montana to D.C. and back again? If that was what they thought was best. Talking and talking about the past until she was blue in the face? Why not. It wasn't like the shrink could get her to dump all her history onto the coffee shop table if she didn't want to.
Ava just wanted to go home, back to the pastures and the cows. She wanted to change out of the black slacks, purple-laced corset, and idiotic heels she was wearing and climb back into her jeans and comfy cotton shirt, settle her Stetson on her head, and go down to the stables to pamper Kinx. She needed the routine of fixing Lulu's bottle, feeding her calf, and taking her out to play.
All she wanted was home.
But Finn was adamant this was necessary. Coming back here was vital to her mental health, and he didn't want her to be cut off from having friends.
Like she was going to become friends with a woman who poked into people's brains for a living, Ava scoffed.
“Come on, little dove. We made it this far.” Finn tugged her hand gently but firmly.
Finn was afraid of losing her. It was the only reason she was here. Ava knew what it was like to live with fear breathing down her neck, and it wasn't fair, it wasn't right, to make him live with it too. “Is she already in there?”
“I imagine so, darlin'. With her career path, she'll have to be punctual, and we're the ones who are about to be late. For the second time today,” he told her pointedly with another, harder tug. “I don't even know what she looks like or what she'll be wearing, Ava.”
“So, the plan is, what? Walk in and accost some random woman, hoping she's a shrink?”
“Psychologist,” he sighed. “Dr. Parrish is a psychologist, not a psychiatrist.”
Ava rolled her eyes and tugged on the hem of her jacket. “Like that makes a difference. Fine, fine,” she muttered when he narrowed his eyes at her, then glanced at his watch. “Let's go drink coffee and talk about how fucked up my head is. It's not like there's a million other things we could all be doing with our time.”
“That's the spirit,” Finn responded with faux cheer. “There's nothing like maintaining a positive outlook in the face of adversity.”
She let him lead her to the coffee shop, dragging her feet the whole way. Warm air swirled around them when he opened the door and ushered her inside, strongly scented with a blend of rich caffeine and pastries. For a moment, with her stomach growling and her mouth watering, she forgot why they were there. Like a child, she had an urge to run over to the long glass counter showcasing delicious snacks and press her hands and face up against the gleaming barrier to peruse her choices.
Two waitresses in the same classy attire of black skirt, white blouse, and simple, sensible black flats sauntered from table to table, scribbling orders down on little notepads and bussing tables. There might only have been a dozen people in the comfortably furnished room, but they worked tirelessly, making sure their customers were served quickly and efficiently, from what Ava could see.
She assessed every table, dismissing the booth with four youngish women and the table where two men sat straight in their chairs, talking quietly to each other. A couple was hidden away in the far corner, the man doodling on his lady's hand with a fingertip as they laughed and picked pieces off a Danish to feed to each other.
Directly opposite the two men, a lone woman sat sipping from a cup as she scrolled through something on her iPad. The device was flat on the table, and the woman peered down at it with a pair of tortoise-shell rimmed glasses perched on the end of her nose. She was sat at a table meant for four, minding her own business.
Ava's hair stood up on the back of her neck.
The woman didn't look threatening, far from it. From what Ava saw of her face, it was set in calm, relaxed lines, as though she were simply passing the time with a coffee and a book, or whatever the hell she was reading. Her body language reflected her face, easygoing and unaffected by the quiet chatter going on around her. Oblivious, apparently, to the predatory stares of the two men across from her. An abundance of hair was piled at the back of her head, loosely pinned in place with tendrils spilling from the bulk of toffee-colored tresses.
“Her,” Ava whispered, inching behind Finn's broad back and wishing she hadn't said anything.
Unfortunately, Finn had exceptional hearing, and he locked onto the woman with a nod. “Okay then, she looks promising. We'll say hello and see if she's our lady, then we can get you something to eat before that monster in your belly decides to eat someone.”
“Totally not hungry,” she lied. Well, it was only a half-lie. A little white one. Her body was protesting her lack of sustenance after she'd only managed a handful of fries for dinner. Her head, however, argued that her appetite was shot. Food tasted like ash in her mouth.
Those pastries were rather enticing, though.
She stayed glued to his side as he walked over to the woman and politely cleared his throat. “Sorry to bother you, ma'am—”
Violet eyes lifted from the
small screen and quickly scanned Finn's face, then flicked over to study Ava's. The coffee cup was set aside, and slim hands folded over the iPad as she sat back and smiled. “Mr. McLeod. I'd recognize that western drawl anywhere, it's rather distinctive. Please, don't just stand there, have a seat.” That smile brightened further as Finn pulled out a chair. “And you must be Ava.”
Ava didn't resist Finn's touch as he guided her down into the chair, then sat beside her. She said nothing, chewing on her lower lip. Feeling a bit like a child waiting for the adults to give her permission to speak, she kneaded her hands on her thighs, trying not to score her legs through her slacks. A nip of pain would keep her focused, keep her clued into the conversation.
“I can see you're not enthralled with the idea of therapy, Ava, so I'd just like to reassure you, this is just a friendly get-together. My working hours are over for the day, and we're having a little chat to get to know each other.” Madeline lifted her hand as the waitress flitted past, and the girl came straight over with a beaming smile.
What was it with everyone fucking smiling? Ava thought as her chest tightened.
“What can I get you guys today?” The girl's name tag, a discreet bronze band over her right breast, read Samantha.
“Another Frappuccino for me,” Madeline said brightly, then scowled when one of the men across from her rudely cleared his throat in an abrasive manner. “And I think I'll treat myself to a chocolate Bombolone.”
“One Frappuccino, one Bombolone,” Samantha repeated dutifully as she wrote it down in what looked like some kind of shorthand. Green eyes lifted from the pad to meet Finn's and a hot flush rose into her cheeks. “And you, sir? What can I get you tonight?”
Jealousy was a terrible thing. It was wrong to envision clawing out the girl's eyes, wasn't it, and duct taping her mouth closed so she couldn't ever call Ava's Master sir again in that breathy, flirtatious tone. Ava bit her tongue until she tasted copper, then caved and sank her nails into the soft flesh of her inner thighs.
Black Light: Branded Page 20