Pretzel Logic

by Tymber Dalton

  Going to the parties also gave him ideas for things he could try with Brita in private. Usually modified to allow for her mobility and flexibility on any given day. Rope was one of the things he wanted to try with her, so any time he got to spend watching Scrye play, or picking his brain, was time well spent.

  Once Bill and Gabe finished playing and she was through with aftercare, they rejoined Ethan and Brita on the lanai to chat some more. Gabe was someone Brita had started to relax around and who Ethan hoped would move into friend status with her. While their childhoods were drastically different, their adult life experiences were similar. Both former military, both now in law enforcement.

  Both women who needed to be told to leave their guns at home.

  “My niece loves that little dolphin you made for her,” Brita told her.

  “Cool. So when are you going to let me show you how to do it? Could always use another pair of hands making amigurumis.” Gabe used the craft not only to help calm her own mind, but to help kids in need, donating her creations to children’s hospitals.

  “I’ve never crocheted before.”

  “It’s easy to learn. I promise.”

  Bill arched an eyebrow at Ethan. Ethan had confided in him, used him as a sounding board, knowing confidentiality was ensured.

  “I’d hate to take away from your downtime, though,” Brita finally said. “I know what it’s like.”

  “Hey, I work in Sarasota. I can find a couple of really easy patterns for you that only take a little while to make, and stop by on my way home from work one afternoon.”

  Ethan fought the urge to hold his breath. If Brita agreed to it, it’d mark a massive milestone for her.

  She glanced up at him as if reading his thoughts, a smirk on her face. He hoped his own face hadn’t turned red.

  “Ethan, I can practically feel you ordering me to do it.”

  “Who, me?”

  “Yeah, you.” She refocused her attention onto Gabe. “Sure, let’s go for it. What do I need to buy?”

  “I’ll send you an Amazon list,” she said. From the way her gaze briefly met Ethan’s before darting away again, he knew Bill had likely encouraged her to make the offer to Brita based on Ethan’s conversations with him.

  One baby step closer to a true friend for her.

  He hoped.

  Chapter Three

  Shortly before midnight, Ethan and Brita started saying their good-byes and headed back to his house. Before they’d left the party, Brita had promised to purchase the list of supplies Gabe said she’d e-mail her.

  Ethan knew it wasn’t a full-on win, but it was a start in the right direction.

  He decided to dive right into the discussion. “How’d you feel tonight?”

  It took her a long moment to answer, but he didn’t interrupt the silence. From the way she’d slowly nodded her head after his question, he knew that she’d heard him, but needed to process before she responded.

  “It wasn’t too bad.”

  “Your anxiety?”

  “Right.”

  “Progress, then?”

  Another pause. “I think so.”

  He reached over and laid his hand on her left thigh. “Thank you for trusting me. I know you wanted to cuss me out earlier about leaving your gun at home.” At the next stoplight, he glanced over at her. “I don’t even mind when you cuss me out. At least I know you’re being honest with me.”

  She finally rested her hand over his, lacing fingers with him. He could barely hear her voice over the radio, even though he’d turned it down low.

  “Thank you for being patient with me.”

  “Baby, I love you. There’s nothing to ‘put up with.’ It’s what people who love each other do.”

  She gently squeezed his hand but didn’t reply.

  He’d take the win.

  Maybe it was delusional on his part but over the past couple of months it felt as if she were drawing closer to him. Like calm was finally winning a toehold against her anxiety and PTSD for the first time since the shooting.

  How she’d lie on the couch with her head in his lap while they watched TV and he could stroke her hair without it annoying her, or her having to get up and check the doors several times an hour while pretending it was just a bathroom trip.

  How she could doze off with him while together like that, in a way she never could before.

  How easily her smiles came now, and even laughter he hadn’t heard since before that day.

  How she had finally stopped grilling him about his work days and cases and trial preparations. She could now stop at, “How was your day?” and accept the basic summary without it triggering her.

  Good things, all of them.

  How her mom, during his weekly phone discussions with her, seemed to feel Brita was making progress. Conversations she had to have with him because Brita would always try to gloss over things with her in an attempt to not worry her, only approaching her for professional advice when things got really bad.

  But Brita’s parents lived in Phoenix. George Delgado retired, and Candace Delgado was back at work after a failed two-year attempt at being retired. Brita’s younger sister, Alisse, was also a source of info, since she frequently saw Brita.

  When they pulled into his driveway, he noticed how her gaze didn’t narrow, her head sweeping to scan the yard as he shut the engine off.

  Another small victory.

  Hyper-vigilance ever so slowly seeped away.

  She waited for him to walk around and get the door for her, something he’d slowly worked on with her for the past couple of years. At first a practical concern, not wanting her to fall or otherwise injure herself getting out of a vehicle.

  Later, as a small way for her to show her submission to him in a way she didn’t have to “label.” And he could claim to be a gentleman for her in the process.

  As he held her hand while she got out, he watched her movements. Another sneaky reason—he could more easily gauge her true pain levels. No hesitation on her part, no pulling or tugging on him as she got out, meant she wasn’t hurting.

  Tonight seemed to be a good night for her. And when he pulled her into his arms for a quick kiss before releasing her, she melted against him.

  A very good sign.

  “Meepy or sleepy?” he teased.

  She smiled up at him. “A little meepy.”

  He grinned in response, leaning in to graze his teeth along the side of her neck, earning him a soft sigh from her. “Then let’s get you inside so I can make you make those noises.” He lightly smacked her ass before releasing her.

  “Mmm. Yes, sir,” she teased.

  He was under no illusions. Lower-case s, always, when she teasingly called him that. Sometimes he got the upper-case S if she was deep in a submissive headspace.

  Usually when he had her handcuffed and had his face buried in her pussy and was melting her brains.

  He didn’t care if it was upper-case or lower-case. He’d take the win and love her even more for it.

  He sent her on ahead to the bedroom while he made the rounds, checking windows and door locks. He didn’t need to do it, but it was either he did it, or she would get up and do it.

  The compromise had taken him the better part of six months to earn from her. He’d damn sure stick to it.

  She was still undressing when he reached the bedroom. Stepping in behind her, he wrapped his arms around her, his hands cupping her bare breasts. Her hands came to rest on top of his, gently squeezing, encouraging him.

  “Mmm, baby,” he whispered against the side of her neck. “Gonna meep you so good tonight.” Followed by a gentle nip.

  Her head lolled back against him. “Thank you for making me go tonight.”

  “I didn’t think I forced you, but you’re welcome.”

  She tipped her head back a little more, staring up into his eyes. “I know you didn’t force-force me, but you know what I mean.”

  “Subtle persuasion?”

  “Not-so-
subtle, yes.”

  * * * *

  Brita loved the feel of the warmth of his hands on her bare breasts. In the early days of their relationship—before—their lovemaking had run the gamut from sweet and tender to breaking the bed.

  Literally breaking the bed, when Ethan’s old IKEA frame had given way under them one night.

  She’d always loved giving herself to him in bed, because she trusted him. The longer they’d been together, the more she gave, because he never took it.

  That had always made her feel safe.

  He squeezed her breasts, rolling her nipples between his fingers. “Who’s my good girl?”

  Warmth filled her and not just from his touch. “Me, Sir.”

  “That’s right.”

  The world slipped away, beginning and ending with Ethan and his arms around her, his body pressed against hers. His hands left her breasts and reached down to her slacks, to unfasten her belt first, then her pants. He pushed them down her hips, kneeling as he did, laying gentle nips up and down the backs of her thighs.

  Then he made her turn around. He cupped her panty-clad ass in his hands and pressed his face against her pussy, his breath warm through the fabric as he nuzzled her. When she tried to hold on to his head, he made a noise.

  “Hands behind you,” he said.

  She immediately complied.

  With his fingers deliciously digging into her flesh, he used his lips and tongue to tease her through the fabric, enough to drive her mad with need and yet not nearly enough to get her off.

  One of his favorite games, making her beg for an orgasm.

  Because once she finally broke down and started begging, his next favorite game was making her come until she begged him to stop.

  By mutual agreement, neither of them masturbated without asking the other first. Meaning they rarely did anyway, because they were either together, or she was in too much pain to think about sex and he was too worried about her to feel horny.

  He’d jokingly asked for that rule from her, and when she’d flipped it around on him as the only way she’d agree to it, she realized he’d boxed her into a corner when he did.

  Still…

  One more thing to love about him. He wasn’t willing to ask of her what he himself wasn’t willing to give.

  As her clit throbbed, swollen and tingling, he circled it with his tongue through the fabric, knowing damn well he’d found his target. As she squirmed and tried to get him to do more, he held on to her ass tighter, keeping her in place. Then he slid his hands up and grabbed her wrists, truly trapping her in position.

  People who didn’t know this side of Ethan might never guess it of him. He was definitely a sexual sadist in that he loved to tease and torment her, delighting in melting every ounce of conscious thought right out of her body, until she’d practically beg him for anything just…

  To…

  Come.

  His teeth grazed over her sensitive nub, pulling needy moans from her and making him chuckle.

  “That’s what I wanted to hear,” he mumbled against her, redoubling his efforts. With his lips he tugged at her clit, every movement sending electric tingles through her nerves and making her pussy wetter and aching to be filled.

  But not until he was damn well ready to.

  When he’d finally gotten her to the point she was begging, she knew she was done for.

  “Please, Sir!”

  “Please what, baby?”

  “Please make me come!”

  “What do I get in return?”

  Oh, shit.

  Tonight he was in the mood to play the guessing game. Usually, he outright told her what he wanted in exchange. Normally, she readily agreed, unless her pain levels wouldn’t let her. Then she’d come back with something close but easier for her physically to manage.

  When he was playful, he drew it out, a way, he knew, to pull fantasies from her, until she hit the one he decided he liked the most.

  Or she grew too damn horny and begged him to do everything to her if he’d only make her come!

  “Handcuffs, Sir.”

  “That’s a given, baby. More.” His lips returned to her clit.

  “I…I…blowjob, Sir.”

  “Another given. Keep going.”

  She swallowed hard, barely able to breathe, much less talk, and with her wrists firmly captured in his hands, unable to pull free.

  She struggled to find something they hadn’t done in a while that might convince him to get her off sooner. “Butt plug, Sir?”

  “Hmm. Which one?”

  Now he was just fucking with her and she knew it.

  “The vibrating one, Sir.”

  “Good girl.” He released her wrists and stood, spinning her around and over the edge of the bed. Yanking her panties down, his hands caressed her bare ass, squeezing again. Twenty quick, hard bare-handed swats divvied up between both ass cheeks, stinging smacks, left her dripping wet and moaning with need.

  “Yes, that’s what my baby needs. Hands and knees.”

  She crawled the rest of the way onto the bed and waited, head down, knowing what would come next. She heard him finish undressing, then moving around in the bathroom. He returned a moment later and one hand held her by the hair while the other squirted lube down the crack of her ass.

  Another moan escaped her when the first finger started playing with her. Over the years, he’d sneakily conditioned her to get horny when he played with her ass, usually by tying her up and eating her out while he had a vibrating butt plug stuffed deep inside her.

  Tonight he worked her up quickly, three fingers she was rocking in time with before they disappeared and she felt the tip of the butt plug pressing against her.

  “Push.”

  She did, moaning as it slid into place.

  “Good girl.”

  He stepped away and she heard him wash his hands. When he returned, she flinched when the butt plug sprang to life, all the way on the highest setting.

  Oh…boy…

  “On your back.”

  She rolled, feeling the towel he slid under her as she did. She kept her eyes closed and raised her arms, feeling the cuffs click around them. He left them loose enough she could move around in them.

  Then he climbed on top of her and settled over her face, her mouth already open as his hard cock slid over her tongue.

  They both moaned now. “Yeah, baby,” he whispered, his fingers teasing her nipples. “You know what to do with that.”

  He didn’t leave her much room to move, and that’s the way he wanted it. She swallowed his cock, sucking on it, laving her tongue over his shaft, all nine beautiful inches of it. After a few minutes of that, with her also whining with need, he leaned forward and she felt his warm breath against her bare pussy.

  “You know the rules. Don’t come.” His lips closed around her clit and she had to gasp for air, struggling not to disobey him.

  Although there were times she was glad to take the five cane strokes just to get the first orgasm.

  He never used that rule when he knew she was hurting in the bad way, but that he did tonight meant when he finally did get around to fucking her, he was going to ride her hard and deep and grind that gorgeous cock of his into her pussy with everything he had.

  Because he wasn’t scared of hurting her.

  His sweet, slow mouth taunted and teased her. He knew every inch of the landscape down there and took great relish in making her hold back until he gave her permission. Between the butt plug undulating in her ass, and his comforting weight pressing on her body, she felt the first spinnings of subspace tugging at her brain.

  Yes!

  She didn’t hit it every time, like this. But when she did, she knew she’d sleep well that night.

  Ethan’s tongue plunged into her pussy, circling, withdrawing, fucking her with it the same way he was fucking her mouth with his cock. Trying to rock her hips against him was useless. He had her pinned down too perfectly in this position.

  Af
ter an eternity, where she realized she was starting to beg around his cock, he lifted his head. “What’s the matter, baby?” he teased. “Is something wrong?”

  She loudly moaned.

  He rose up enough his cock pulled from her mouth. “Please make me come, Sir!”

  “Did I just hear someone beg for an orgasm?”

  “Yes, Sir, please!”

  “Excellent. You may come.” He fucked his cock deep into her throat again and sucked on her clit. White heat exploded behind her eyes as the first earth-shattering climax spiraled through her.

  * * * *

  Ethan’s chuckles as he sucked her clit were easily lost under the sound of her orgasming for him.

  Now I’ve got her.

  He’d keep her hovering like this for a while, getting at least three or four really good, hard ones out of her before he’d build her up one last time, teasing, taking his time, making her beg again.

  That’s when he’d fuck her, holding back until he’d fucked at least one more out of her.

  They hadn’t been able to play like this for a few weeks, so he’d damn sure enjoy it. There were times she was in too much pain and they’d cuddle and fall asleep. Or she wasn’t in the mood but before he could stop her, she’d reached down and started giving him a handjob, or blowing him, not letting him reciprocate. Or he’d sixty-nine with her and get her off first before letting her suck one out of him.

  Tonight he’d be able to fuck her, the way he knew she wished they could do every time.

  He hadn’t yet managed to fully convince her that he loved her the way she was, but any time he got a chance to, he tried. He’d be forty-two in a couple of months, for chrissake. It wasn’t like there weren’t plenty of nights he was too damn tired to even think about sex, much less want to do it.

  His cock throbbed at the feel of her moans vibrating through it when orgasm number two washed over her. He added two fingers to her pussy, fucking her with them, teasing her G-spot and intensifying the third to the point that she was making those adorable, high-pitched meep sounds he loved.

  Then came the build-up.

  Slow, teasing circles around her clit, feeling her gasping and trying to rock her body against him, the shift from getting away from his mouth to needing more of it.