“Yeah, they're gonna feel strained for a day or two, darlin'. They worked hard last night.” Finn scooped up the sheet and tossed it over his shoulder, wandering over to Ava. He stroked his hand over her shoulders, pleased she didn't flinch from his touch as she had earlier. “How does the rest of you feel?”
Blue eyes glared at him in the mirror, a little clearer than they had been. “My nether regions have discussed the matter and have agreed that all lands south of the border are closed until further notice. Thou shalt not pass, Finn.”
Challenge accepted. His arms slipped around her, his hands resting on the counter, caging her in. “Oh really?” he murmured against her neck, nudging his cock against the sweet curve of her ass. “I'm not seeing any No Trespassing signs posted anywhere, darlin', and besides...” He moved his mouth to her ear and whispered, “It ain't trespassing if it's mine.”
Ava sniffed haughtily, but he caught a glimpse of her lips twitching in the mirror. “Trespassers get an ass full of buckshot, buddy.”
Adoring her, Finn laughed and kissed the spot beneath her ear that turned her boneless. It was something he'd once said while out on the trail at home—well, if he recalled correctly, it was a much longer and more complicated rant about people straying where they shouldn't—but she'd picked an excellent time to paraphrase him. “Hmm, and landowners should remember that denying access to permitted parties results in the landowner getting an ass full of cock, darlin'.”
Her little hands gripped his forearms, nails scoring his skin. “I love you, Finn, but the Orifices have spoken. There are things inside me still buzzing away with that infernal machine. My ovaries were shaken loose and are somewhere in the vicinity of my ankles.”
“We don't need them yet anyway,” he purred. “Soon, but not today.”
When her knees gave out, he chuckled and steadied her. “Back to bed with you. I'll abide by the Orifices' decision today, darlin', but only because you're recovering and need rest. Tomorrow's a different story.”
“The Orifices are grateful for your leniency, oh mighty Sir.” She yelped when his hand smacked sharply on her ass.
“You and your sass,” he said with a grin. “Can you walk back to bed or would you like some assistance?”
She shifted slightly. “I think I need to use my legs. I'm going to be so stiff tomorrow. Today,” she amended with a shake of her head. “Maybe if I stretch them now, it won't hurt so bad later. That's how it's supposed to work, right?”
He gathered her in close, arm around her back, and let her lead the way back to the bedroom. A lot slower than her foray to the toilet. She was hobbling, the urge to pee no longer overriding her physical restrictions. “Supposed to. You want some painkillers to take the edge off? I've got some ibuprofen in my bag.”
They crossed from tile to carpet. “No, I'm okay. Thanks. I might take you up on it in a few hours.” She groaned when her ass hit the mattress. “The orgasms were fun, Finn, but I think a return trip to the Sybian might need to wait until...never. That thing is a lethal weapon.”
Gently, he repositioned her on the bed, lifting her legs onto the mattress when she seemed content to just sit with them dangling over the edge. Her soft hiss told him she was feeling the effects more than she let on. He yanked the sheet off his shoulder, spread it over her. “I'll keep that in mind for future reference, little dove. Drink your water. I won't wake you again. We're going to up your fluid intake from now on, but I think you'll be okay until breakfast.”
Her body sank into the mattress with a sigh. “Are you coming to bed now?”
Hell yes, he was. He was in dire need of sleep himself, but he just had a couple of things to do before he allowed himself the oblivion of slumber. “I just need ten minutes to organize the day, darlin'.” He rounded the bed, sliding in beside her as she dutifully gulped down the water. Picking up his phone, he quickly fired off a text to Spencer to say their plans had changed and not to expect them at Black Light that night. Another to Rosie, explaining the situation and sending their apologies. The final one was to Arthur, asking him to prep the plane for takeoff that afternoon instead of Sunday.
Messages delivered, he tossed the phone aside and made himself comfortable, amused and touched when Ava shuffled closer, snuggling into him and sharing her sheet. She was a sweetheart, and he counted every moment with her as a blessing. He barely felt her hand come to rest on his stomach before sleep swept him away.
* * *
Ava
The next time she stirred, she felt like a new woman. Well, almost. The incessant heat cooking her from the inside out was gone, her mind clear and bright. There were a few hazy details, more like a dream than a memory, but a nice dream. Her shoulders and legs ached, her pussy wasn't quite as adamant about never having anything in it ever again, and her outlook on life was promising.
All in all, not a bad forecast for the rest of the day.
Ava’s thoughts rolled toward her meeting with Madeline. Having met the woman, a lot of Ava's initial fears had been swept aside. She liked her. The psychologist was sweet, funny, understanding. Though they'd steered the conversation away from all things therapy, Ava had almost been driven to spilling her life into the woman's hands. The words had been right there on the tip of her tongue, ready to throw her demons onto the coffee shop table amid pastries and coffee.
That was a dangerous concept.
Do I need Madeline?
The answer that came directly to mind was yes. Of course, that was swiftly followed by no, no, no.
Ava didn't need anyone to explain how her father was the root of her issues, or that her childhood was horrific and part of the need to cut herself. The secrets were safe, weren't they, locked away in the vault. The voices were...manageable, most of the time.
She'd gone for weeks without cutting. Weeks without using pain and blood to wash the voices away. Finn was her rock, her reason for not succumbing. She could hold onto him and he would keep her safe. But the voices weren't afraid of him. They taunted him, mocked him in her father's voice, and she hated hearing the bastard say the things he did about the man she loved.
Bartholomew held a knife to her throat, holding her hostage in her own life. Scared to move, to breathe, to live.
The time had come to fight.
“So many cogs turning in that brain,” Finn grumbled. “Unless the little hand on the clock is at twelve, go back to sleep.”
Ava smiled, glancing at the digital clock beside the bed. She pressed her lips to his nipple softly. “It's after one, Finn.”
One slumberous gray eye opened. “In the afternoon?”
“I believe so, Sir. There's definitely a sun high in the sky.”
“Shit.” His arm reached out, blindly slapping the bedside table. He found his phone, opened the lock screen. “Arthur's ready to fly at three. I guess we better move,” he said sleepily, and let the phone drop to the covers. “Maybe we should stay until tomorrow and just stay in bed all day. I like that plan.”
“You're tired.” It was the first time she'd seen him anything but raring to go conquer the universe.
“Yes, I am. There're no cattle to round up, no horses to ride, no pressing matters. This,” he said, yanking her up and onto him, “is sheer bliss, my little dove.”
She braced her hands on his chest, aware of the erection poking at her through thin cotton boxers. She wasn't against the idea of entertaining him, but her thighs were already crying from straddling him. “I need to tell you something before I chicken out or change my mind or just decide it's the worst choice I've ever made.”
Both gray eyes were on her now, sleep dissipating as he focused completely on her. “All right. Go ahead.”
Ava inhaled deeply, released the breath in a slow exhale. “I want you to ask Madeline to take me on. If she'll still take me as a long-distance patient. Please.”
There was no sudden elation, no throwing of his hands in the air or celebratory whoops of delight. Reading his face, she only saw quiet acceptance
and a great deal of consideration. But when his hands found hers, gripped them, she felt the force of his emotions ricochet through the connection like a burst of electricity. “I'm only asking this once, Ava. Are you sure you want to do this of your own volition?”
“It's my decision. I don't want to be the reason we fall apart, Finn. I don't want you to be stuck babysitting me every minute of every day because you can't trust me not to do the unforgivable. I guess the truth is, no matter how strong I am now, how many weeks I go without harming myself, I never know when the voices are going to strike. My father knows my weak moments, and I might not be able to shore them up before he hits the right button. If Madeline thinks she can help, I don't have any other choice but to let her try. For our sake, not just mine.”
He reached up, pushing her hair away from her eyes, then held her face in his big hands. Unable to help herself, Ava leaned into him, turning her cheek into his palm. This hand had held hers, blistered her ass, wiped away her tears, and shown her the meaning of trust. This hand had taught her, guided her, disciplined her, loved her in ways she'd never believed a girl like her could be.
It was a pivotal moment in her life, and he was standing right beside her, as promised.
“The only thing I can say is...” Finn smiled brilliantly. “I'm so fucking proud of you, little dove. So proud.”
He gave her the verification she needed to know she'd done the right thing. He was the reason for everything. Without him, Ava wouldn't have considered the possibility of reaching out and asking for help. There'd have been no one she wanted to do it for, not even herself. The Ava of old wouldn't fight, not for herself, not against her father.
Finn was the reason she wasn't going to die in a puddle of blood of her own making.
The hand she wasn't leaning into left her face and picked up his phone. Fiddling with it for a moment, he handed it to her with the screen open to a message. A blank message. “As mistress of your own universe, I believe the honor falls to you, darlin'. Take the phone and take back control from your father.”
You don't want to do that, filthy slut. You know you don't really want to sit and talk for hours while that pesky pen writes down every fault, every sin you've ever committed. What does the fucking shrink know, anyway? Does she know how good it feels to hold that blade over your wrist, waiting for the bliss to take over? Has she ever felt metal kiss her skin, split it open, and let her anxiety flow like hot tears from the wound? Bet she hasn't. She's never ridden the burn the way you have. She can't understand.
Only I understand, little bitch. I'm the only one who knows everything.
Ava accepted the phone, handling it a little like a bomb in the final seconds of countdown. If her father was making such an effort to dissuade her from this path, it had to be the right one. Hard, rocky, treacherous in places, but the right one for her, here and now. “Wouldn't it be easier to call her? What am I supposed to write?”
“You can call her if you'd prefer.” Finn plucked the phone from her numb fingers, made an alteration, then slipped it back into her hands. “Just press the button when you're ready, darlin'. All you have to do is start a conversation and tell her you'd like it if you could work together to get through this problem. Madeline won't eat you, Ava.”
She frowned at the screen, at the number waiting to connect. “Did...Did Rosie mind me cancelling today?”
A shadow flashed in his eyes. “She messaged me back. Said she hoped you feel better soon, to get lots of rest, and to listen to your Dom—that would be me,” he said with a wink. “She's told you not to worry, there'll be other weekends to get together. She sends her love, and added a load of crosses and zeros, whatever they mean. I get that crosses are kisses, but what the hell are the zeros for?”
Warm amusement swept through her as she laughed. “Not zeroes, Finn. O's. X's and O's are kisses and hugs.”
“Kisses and...Good Christ,” he muttered. “You young ones and your secret text language.”
“I'm pretty sure it's not as secret as you think, Sir.” The phone darkened in her hand, the screen preparing to switch off. Ava tapped her thumb on the glass to stop it, then almost dropped the phone when the screen changed, and the faint sound of ringing emanated from the speakers. “Oh shit, I didn't mean to do that. Turn it off, turn it off!”
Grinning, Finn held his hands up, then folded them beneath his head. She hoped he didn't know how sexy he looked, spread before her like sinful temptation. If he did, she thought she probably wouldn't last long before the thick bulge beneath her was stripped and buried inside her. When her master got an itch, he didn't rest until he scratched it thoroughly. “I'm busy, darlin'.”
“Busy?” she shrieked, juggling the phone like a hot potato. “You're just lying there!”
He tsked quietly, his impish expression both suiting him and irritating the hell out of her. “I am making myself comfortable, watching a beautiful pair of bare breasts bounce around in front of my face while a damp and needy pussy rubs itself all over me. So I may give the impression of merely lying here, but trust me, darlin', I'm simply conserving my energy for the flight home.”
Oh hell, he wouldn't. Joining the ranks of the Mile High Club wasn't on her bucket list, but it appeared she'd be ticking it off the list anyway. “You said no sex today!”
“But the Orifices are begging me, Ava.” His head tilted toward the phone, his grin spreading wide as he jerked his chin toward it. “That's not ringing anymore, darlin'.”
“It's not? Oh, thank God,” she said emphatically, then felt the blood rush from her face as she heard a tiny voice. Bringing the phone to her ear, she whispered, “Hello?”
“Good afternoon, Ava.” Madeline's voice was filled with suppressed laughter. “I'm pleased you've called, but are you sure this is a good time for you to talk? I'm happy to call you back when it's more convenient.”
“N-No, I...” She closed her eyes as she died from embarrassment. “How much did you hear?”
“Enough to know counselling you will not be boring. Don't be ashamed of it, Ava. I've had similar conversations with Joseph and Nathaniel. It's part and parcel of being in a loving, committed relationship.” Madeline's tone was so easy and relaxed, some of Ava's stress seeped away. “Did you have some more questions for me?”
Now or never. Big girl panties. Not that I'm wearing any, but she doesn't need to know that. “I-I...I'd like to ask if you are still open to taking me on as a patient. Client. Whatever you call them. Can you...will you help me? Please?”
Approval shone in Finn's eyes. He mouthed, That's my clever girl, and weight slipped off her shoulders to float away.
“I've already blocked off a spot in my schedule for next week in the hope you'd reach out. How does Wednesday at two p.m. fit in with you? That's two your time,” Madeline added. “I understand getting back to D.C. when you have a life that revolves around a business and animals is difficult, but I would like our first session to be face to face, if that's okay with you? I can set up a Zoom meeting so we can interact without the need to fly you into the city.”
“Oh, I...” Her throat closed quickly. Wednesday? That was soon, too soon. “Sure?”
Madeline laughed softly. “Don't get too overwhelmed, Ava. Much like we did yesterday, we'll just talk. Stick to the small stuff, topics that help you relax, then see about delving under the surface a little. Nothing invasive. Think of your issue as a racehorse and being healthy at the finish line of the Kentucky Derby. Therapy isn't about walking your horse into the stalls and winning the race two minutes later, sweetie. Winning is the goal, but getting there takes years of training, prep work, grooming, feeding, and crossing the finish line of a dozen smaller races first. It's about the elements of the horse's routine coming together into a winning combination.”
“Self-harm is a racehorse,” Ava muttered dubiously. It sounded ridiculous, but oddly enough it made sense. “You're telling me I'm not going to be fixed in a day or a week. This could take years.”
�
�I don't think years is the right prognosis for you. I honestly don't. You've already made progress with Finn, and while we may take a step or two back in the beginning, we'll catch up. I'm not concerned, Ava. Neither should you be.”
No worrying. Okay, that was doable. Maybe.
Ava squeaked as Finn shifted under her, managing to turn the sound into a fairly passable clearing of her throat.
But the psychologist wasn't easily duped, if her own cleared throat meant anything. “I'll leave it at that so I don't scare you off. Think about whether there's anything pressing you'd like to talk about on Wednesday and we'll work it into discussion at some point during the appointment. If you need me beforehand, or at any point between scheduled appointments, you can reach me on this number. Enjoy the rest of your Saturday, Ava, and give my regards to Finn.”
“I will, thanks.” The moment the call ended, Ava dropped the phone and moaned. “Why do I feel like I just did something really, really bad? Signing my life away to the devil kind of bad. Maybe I should call her back and—”
“No.” Master Finnegan appeared in an instant, heating that gray gaze with temper. “It's done, Ava. You've taken the initiative to make a positive move forward, and you're not reneging on it. We've already talked about the reasons why, and they are good, solid reasons. I love you beyond sense, darlin', but it's time you learned to love yourself. No point in saving yourself if you don't like who you are. So, make a move to pick that phone up and call Madeline back and you'll be wearing your ginger plug all the way home.”
“Fine.” Stubbornly, she crossed her arms over her chest the way he did so often, and pouted. “I won't call her back.”
Finn's hard expression softened. He sat up quickly, coming nose to nose with her as she grabbed his shoulders for balance. “You won't, no. Don't forget I see you, darlin'. There's no hiding from me. No matter how scared you get, you always face your fear in the end. We'll see this through to wherever it leads.”
Ava's grip changed, her arms looping around his neck. Hugging him close, there was nowhere else she'd rather be but naked in his arms. She was vulnerable like this, her scars on show, and her heart exposed. Old wounds lurking beneath the surface, finally ready to heal now she was equipped to rip them open and let them drain. “What's the plan now, Sir?”
Black Light: Branded Page 28