Unrestrained by Joey W. Hill
"Why don't you stop flitting around the kitchen and come eat your breakfast?" he said, blue-green eyes tracking her. "You can tell me about it. Are you all right today?"
"Yes, certainly." She raised her brow as if surprised he'd asked. She hadn't gone back to sleep after her dream, but she was wired like she'd downed one of those energy drinks. She slid into the spot, picked at her eggs.
"You mentioned the storage building, and I know the trust will help cover that, but your main goal is to find good homes for the dogs, keep them rotating through here so you can help as many as possible. That's as important as maintaining the facility."
"True." But his look was wary. "What did you have in mind?"
"Think about the material you have to draw people here. It's perfect. The SEAL who died, his father running it in his honor because of the first dog he rescued. Now you, a veteran with one leg, continue to run it. It plays perfectly. It--"
His face turned to granite. "Whoa. Stop there. 'It plays perfectly'?"
"You know what I mean."
"Yeah, I do. No."
"Why not? If you just--"
"Athena."
"But it makes perfect sense. Why wouldn't you--"
"Because I said so."
She came up short at what was nothing short of a barked command, the tone he'd use to bring a raw recruit to heel. She saw herself again at the end of that loose tether in her dream. Was that what a submissive was to him? You gave up control . . .
"This isn't about your pride," she said icily. "I assumed you'd want what was best for the dogs. And--"
"That's not what this is. I will see myself in hell before I capitalize on what Ed and Eddie went through." He smacked his lower leg, the sound of metal making her flinch. "And if I wanted to be some sob story news program--"
"I didn't mean it that way. I'm trying to help."
"No, you're not. You're doing it again. You--"
"No, I'm not," she fired back. "Every time I disagree with you, it's not because I'm trying to run things. I am allowed to have my own opinions and ideas."
"Yeah, you are. Never said you weren't." He sat back, bracing his hands on his thighs. "This was why I knew it was a mistake for you to see me the other day, without the leg. And seeing me this morning, when you can tell it's hurting. It kicks off this mode in you."
"Don't you do that." The surge of anger that moved through her was so intense she felt lightheaded. "Don't you turn that day into something wrong and ugly. Don't twist it and use it against me right now because it makes you angry to be vulnerable."
His gaze narrowed, became dangerous. "Then don't use my perceived vulnerability as a way to grab the reins. You will lose that fight, Athena."
"It's not about winning and losing--"
"It's always about winning and losing," he shot back.
"If there's an enemy. You see me as your enemy." She saw it in his angry expression, his defensive body language.
"No. What the hell is--" He reclaimed his temper, perhaps registering the stricken look, but by then she'd done what she never did. She bolted.
--
She could have run to her car, left him there, because as capable as he was, he couldn't run, not faster than her. But she couldn't leave. Instead she ran deeper into the junkyard, until her heart was pounding high in her throat and she was even dizzier. She'd gone up a hill, was standing at the boundary of the property. A high chain-link fence with barbed wire marked it.
She realized she was crying. It seemed she spent half her time with Dale crying or close to it. It couldn't be normal, could it? She also realized she wasn't alone.
The two Rottweilers had followed her. Had Dale sent them after her, making sure someone was watching over her amid all the piles of scrap metal that could pose a potential hazard to someone running blindly through them? She wouldn't be surprised if he had.
She lowered herself to a car's backseat, propped on a pile of tires like a weird retro couch. They'd probably pay a thousand dollars for it in New York City. She put her hands over her face and leaned forward against her knees, trying to get the aching to stop. Why hadn't she run toward her car? An enemy.
She'd learned to accept that sense of aloneness that came with being a widow, no matter how many people surrounded her. It was like there was an umbilical cord between married people, and the loss of one left it severed, dangling. In a matter of days, Dale had made her feel not alone, which made this all the more excruciating, a reopening of a carefully tended wound.
She knew he'd been about to ask her what the hell was wrong with her, and that was the question, wasn't it? That dream had unsettled her, but it was a symptom. So much was changing so fast, and one part of her embraced it, refused to slow down, while another felt like she was clinging to a cliff's edge, with no one to grab her if she let go.
She was being ridiculous. She shouldn't have come, should have made an excuse, backed out of the brunch. She'd known she was out of sorts, something not right with her. She shouldn't have inflicted that on him. He was probably wondering if being with the crazy girl was such a good idea after all. She should retrace her steps, make as dignified an apology as could be managed, get in her car and drive away.
When she heard his footsteps, it loosened some feelings and tightened others, more of the same thrilling and exhausting duality. She didn't know what to do, so she simply sat there, her head down, as the cushion next to her gave way under his weight.
"Come here." His arm was already around her shoulders, enfolding her. He didn't just bring her to his chest. He scooped her up, moved her into his lap and held her.
"I'm sorry. I know you think I've lost my mind. I'm not--"
"Shut up."
She shut up, pressing her face into his shirt, her shoulders quivering against the strength of his arms around her.
"Shh. Easy girl. Shh."
"I wasn't trying to be adversarial. I--"
"The last thing you are is my enemy, girl. I'd cut out my tongue if I could take back anything I said that made you think that." He muttered a curse, brought her closer. "Damn it. Fuck. Just . . . be quiet a moment. Let's both breathe."
"It's like a roller coaster. Everything's so perfect one day, and then the next I feel so afraid and unsettled. Things just keep going wrong. I don't think . . ."
"That's what happens when two stubborn, independent, middle-aged people are falling in love, Athena."
Her gaze snapped up to his. Though his expression was still tense, he gave her a wry glance. "You have a better explanation, Ms. Know-It-All?"
She closed her mouth, a weird tingle of sensation threading through her chest. She wanted to be with him every second, and thought of him when she wasn't. His kisses made her knees weak, and his gaze could make her breath stop in her throat. It wasn't the first time it had crossed her mind, but given that women tended to indulge romantic fantasies, and she and Dale hadn't known one another very long, it hadn't been totally credible. But by implication, Dale had said he was falling in love with her as well. Which made the possibility far more real.
She'd fallen for Roy during the first weekend of meeting him. He'd told her it had taken him only the first moment.
"Wow. Uh . . ."
"Here." He eased her into a sitting position next to him. Across from them, the dogs were lying down in the shade of a battered Ford Fairlane. Dale kept an arm around her waist. "Sorry. Didn't mean to knock your feet out from under you."
"Did you mean it?"
"It's how I perceive the issue. I think it's the truth." He met her gaze. "Only you can say what's happening in your own head. But the way you worry and fuss over me, and the few nights we've spent together, the way things take on a life of their own, it sure as hell suggests that's what's happening. I've been a Master awhile, Athena. I've seen the way it looks for people who are wrapped up in each other above and beyond the Dom/sub stuff."
"Yes." Session euphoria could easily be mistaken for enduring emotion, like teenage hormones, but du
He rubbed a hand over his jaw. "Let me do a better job of saying what I was trying to say. We've talked about this. You were trained, so to speak, to run things, to handle things. An ultimate service sub, if you want to think of it that way, trained by your husband to be his Mistress. As such, you equate your worth with service. It's a fine, noble thing in ninety-nine percent of that incredible, amazing life of yours that gives so much to others. But that's not what I want from you. That's not what you came to me for. We both know it. I'm your Master, Athena. With me, you let go of all of it."
"But . . . what does that give you?"
"I've told you." He chuckled, but it was a grim sound. "It gives me everything, sweetheart. That's the way I'm made. When you surrender, when you look at me with that dazzling, mindless trust in your expression, when I feel how you hand over every part of yourself to me, and you accept pleasure and pain at my hand . . . That's like a drug to me. And I do like the service side of you. I like it when you make me a sandwich and sit at my feet in that thin, pretty robe of yours, or nothing at all, so I can enjoy looking at what's mine. I want to own you, Athena. That's my drug as well.
"You're a confident, independent woman, a remarkable person, and I respect all of that. But when you're sitting at my feet, I fucking love the feeling that you're my property. To protect and cherish, to fuck when I want. I know you get hot and bothered, thinking about it like that, too. There's nothing PC about it, but we both get off on it, right?"
She nodded. She was getting hot and bothered right now, hearing the words come from his distracting mouth.
"But because of what we both bring to the table--my leg, your husband--it's a fine line. I don't mind you caring about me, wanting to help me, any more than I expect you to mind me wanting to do the same for you. But . . . Roy sounds like a great guy, so don't take this the wrong way. I don't need to be handled like him, and when you get uptight about all this, you go into that mode. That's not the way it works for you and me. Understand?"
"I think so. I don't know. I still have trouble with that part." She let out an unhappy sigh, pushing her hair away from her face.
"That's the biggest step in letting go." He touched her cheek. "You have to decide you're ready to let go of one relationship and move into another. You keep straddling that fence. I don't mind it, much, because I understand how hard that is, but at some point you have to choose, Athena. Or I'll walk. That's not an ultimatum to push you. I just don't want to settle for less."
Hadn't she recoiled from that word herself? Settle. The success of her marriage, the failure of his, had brought them to the same point, the same resolve. "So what does that mean to you?" she asked. "How will it look and feel to you, if I've made that choice?"
"You'll know when I know," he said. "I won't be able to lead you to that, Athena. But when it happens, we'll both know you've given me everything, and not just when I have you tied up and you're lost in subspace. When and if it happens," he added gently, "it doesn't mean you don't love your husband. It means you understand you're still alive, and moving forward. Which I think Roy wanted, if he's the type of guy you described. I know if you were mine and I died, I'd want you to be in good hands, loving hands. I wouldn't want you to be alone in this world. In fact, no offense to Roy, but screw that. I don't want you alone in this world. You're becoming important to me, Athena, in a way that might get a little scary to you, because I don't do things halfway once I'm sure of myself, and I'm a pretty decisive guy."
"Really? I hadn't noticed." The corner of her mouth tipped up. "You seem to waffle over the littlest things. It's tedious and annoying."
He ruffled her hair. "Be careful, woman. You get too mouthy and I have ways of dealing with that."
She smiled. They sat silently for a few moments before she spoke again. "The aggravating thing is, I'm really good at this kind of stuff, the fund-raising and such. I just keep sabotaging it by offering it the wrong way, at the wrong times. Despite that, I hope you'll let me help. It doesn't have to be me trying to control things."
"You didn't ruin anything. The ideas are good ones. I trust you to help with that, when I ask for it. I just . . . I know that what you're saying would help, but I am not this missing leg." His jaw got that rock-hard look to it again, his eyes flashing. "Maybe it's selfish of me, but even for a good cause, I won't exploit it. Not when other guys came home in body bags, leaving widows and kids without dads, and I'm the lucky bastard who gets to still be here. You understand?"
She did, and it matched everything she already knew about him. It also gave her a twist of guilt and self-reflection. So much of what she'd done for Roy had been tailoring herself to his needs. At some point, had she'd stopped seeing Roy, the whole man, and instead defined him by the things he needed from her? Dale was very much his own man, and from his behavior yesterday with the kids, and even now, talking about it, she knew he was telling her the truth. He respected who and what she was. But he wouldn't allow it to adversely direct what they were becoming together. There was a relief in that, if she would accept it. She didn't have to run the show.
She saw that, but she also wasn't going to dump all that responsibility on him. She had to learn how to deal with uncertainty in their relationship better. Once she managed that, there were ways their roads could cross, intertwine, help one another. How a relationship was supposed to evolve.
She nodded, but she should have known he'd seen deeper than that. "Now that we've dealt with that," he said, "what was this about this morning? You were out of sorts. What was going on?"
"I can't really talk about it right now. Or rather . . . I wish we wouldn't. Can we talk about it at another time?"
He gave her a thorough look, one that made her cheeks flush a little, her eyes lower. She knew it was somewhat cowardly, but it was too much for one day. Her shoulders eased when he sighed. "All right. But we're going to have to talk about it more at some point. You don't get out of it forever."
She shook her head. "I'm sorry I interrupted our breakfast."
"Well, if you're really sorry, you'll run your pretty ass back up to the apartment and bring it back here. We can finish eating in these lovely surroundings." He nodded to the chain-link fence, the junk cars around them. "Best view in the city."
"I'll be back in a few moments." She smiled, but paused. "Can I do anything, for your leg?"
When he gave her his look, she met his squarely. "I want to help, Master. Please let me help."
"You're relentless." He gave her a look of wry exasperation though, making her feel better. "You are helping. It's hurting like a son of a bitch this morning. If you bring my breakfast back here, that will give it a break."
"If you want, you could take off the prosthesis and I could bring your crutches." She held her breath, anticipating a growl, but he lifted a shoulder.
"I may take it off when I get back to the apartment, but for now all I want is my breakfast. And your company. Those boys wore me out."
"You and me both. I felt stiff as an old woman when I got out of my chair this morning."
His brow lifted. "You slept in your reading room. Did you fall asleep reading?"
She shook her head. "No . . . I had trouble sleeping. I went down there in the middle of the night, stayed there until morning."
"Athena . . ."
"You promised," she said, backpedaling toward the apartment.
His gaze narrowed. "I may not be able to run as fast as you, but the dogs are trained to bring SUVs to a halt. One small contrary woman is no problem at all."
She chuckled at the threat. Even so, she felt his eyes following her as she retreated. He wouldn't let it go, she knew. He was as relentless as he accused her of being. But one issue per morning was enough. He was right; there was a fine line of power between the two of them, and she wasn't entirely easy with how to reconcile them yet.
As she reached the apartment, her phone signale
Look in the top drawer of my nightstand. I bought you a gift. Put it on before you come back.
When she went to the drawer and saw what it was, her eyes widened. Given the emotional turmoil of the past few moments, she wasn't sure if she was up to anything sexual, but her body seemed to have different ideas after seeing his gift. He wasn't here to argue with, anyway, and she wasn't going to debate it over a text screen. With only another brief hesitation, she shimmied out of her panties to step into the straps and position the clit stimulator in its appropriate place. It was shaped like a butterfly, the body pressing against the insides of her labia, the antennae and shaped head snug against her clit. The controls were on the side. He hadn't said to turn it on, but just placing it against her body made it respond. When her phone buzzed again, her cheeks were pink and heated, much like the flesh between her legs.
Where's my food, woman? I'm getting hungry.
It would have made her laugh if she wasn't feeling like a rubber band, stretched between the earlier argument and now this. She put her panties on over the device, then packed the breakfast back in the basket. She transferred their juice into the covered cups that went with the picnic set. They locked into the cup holders on the sides. Nice normal tasks, while her body quivered and her mind fizzed like carbonated water.
Going down the stairs and walking back through the junkyard was an entirely different experience. The stimulator teased the petals of her sex and her clitoris as she walked. It altered her focus, and though she was still unsettled, the unbalanced feeling wasn't unwelcome at all. When she came into his view, the way his intent gaze logged everything only sharpened her response. Her nipples were tight against her bra, the flesh between her legs now slippery.
She put the basket down in front of him and he lifted a hand, keeping her on her feet. "Give me your panties."
Fingers still twitchy, she slid them off, handed them to him. He closed his hand over her wrist, ran a thumb over her wrist pulse. Then he nodded to a Lincoln Town Car about ten paces away. "Go and bend over the trunk. Tuck your skirt up into the waistband so I can see that butterfly and your gorgeous ass."