Long Slow Tease: Penance Part 5

She scooted off his lap and he noticed for the first time she wasn't wearing shoes. He almost asked her what happened to them, then he remembered how out of breath she'd been. His heart constricted as he realized she'd taken them off so she could run to him in order to defend him. The fact that she would have his back, no matter what, was just another one of the billion reasons he loved his Domina.

Mich.e.l.le went over to what he'd thought was a security pad near the door. She dithered with it for a few minutes before turning down the overhead lights so the room was only illuminated by the small spotlights focused on the plants. A b.u.t.terfly flew past one light and it threw distorted and trembling shadows against the wall. When she turned back to face him his breath caught in his throat at the intense look on her face. She moved to the center of the room and motioned him forward.

He crossed the small distance and slid his arms around her, loving the feel of her heat beneath her dress, the delicate scent of her perfume, and the silken skin of her lips as she pressed them to his jaw. A minute later the song Wicked Games by Chris Isaak started to play from speakers hidden around the room. Mich.e.l.le began to move in his arms and he followed her motions. Together they danced while the music washed over them. He studied her face as the song talked about being obsessed with a woman that was nothing but trouble.

"Trying to tell me something with this song, Domina?"

She nodded, her lower lip trembling. "You deserve better than me, Wyatt."

In an effort to keep her mood light, he shook his head. "Isn't that my line?"

The corner of her mouth twitched and he spun her around before dipping her and stealing a kiss. As he raised her back up she gave him a wide eyed look. "Wow, you do know how to dance."

"My sister was in dance all her life and I got drafted to be her practice partner at home."

She slid her arms around his neck and smiled up at him. "You're such a good brother."

"I can't complain. It certainly made it easy to get laid."

She stamped on his foot with her bare one. "Pig."

"Oink."

With a giggle she stepped back as the song ended. His heart nearly burst out of his chest as she smiled at him. "You know, you're quite a brat."

"That sounds too girly. How about calling me a pain in the a.s.s instead?" He tilted his head in the direction of the music controls. "Mind if I play another song?"

"No, feel free."

It took him a minute to figure out the sound system and scroll through the music, but as soon as he saw Enjoy the Silence by Depeche Mode he knew it was perfect.

When the first strands of the synthetic pop song came through the speakers she gave him a surprised look. "My, Wyatt, I never would have pegged you as a Depeche Mode fan."

"A girl I dated while I was in boot camp loved them. She was a hot piece of a.s.s. That f.u.c.ked up tattoo on my back that's lines are all blown out to s.h.i.t? That was the rose on the cover of the alb.u.m."

To his shock, her predatory side surfaced in the blink of an eye. Every line of her body, every lovely curve of her slender form tensed even as she somehow grew softer, more feminine yet still managed to project strength. The sight of her like this made his c.o.c.k instantly rock hard and ready to go. He'd never thought it would be like this, that the thought of her exerting her will over him like this would turn him on, but it f.u.c.king flat out did it for him. He couldn't wait to bury some part of his body in her hot c.u.n.t. He didn't care if it was his tongue, his fingers, or his c.o.c.k. Just touching her would be better than full-on s.e.x with other women.

He was completely addicted to her.

"The tattoo on your back. You got it because a girl you were f.u.c.king liked the alb.u.m?"

Unsure if he should answer her honestly, he hesitated. She took one stride forward and invaded his personal s.p.a.ce, her all-encompa.s.sing energy pressing against him. A hard shudder went through him and he had to momentarily lock his knees to keep himself from falling to the ground before her and rubbing his face against her stomach, seeking her comfort even as he soothed her.

"Uh, yeah. To be honest you can't even tell what it is anymore. It's warped and faded as h.e.l.l."

Looking him directly in the eye, blowing him away with the complete rage he saw reflected in hers, she said in a soft voice, "You will get it removed or get a cover up tattoo. I don't care what you get, but you will not have her mark on you anymore. This is a hard limit of mine."

"Are you telling me this as my Domina or my woman?"

"Both. I mean it, Wyatt. The thought of her mark on you every time I look at your spectacular body makes me more jealous than you could possibly comprehend. My jealousy has been a problem in the past and I'm trying very hard not to get that way with you. But knowing you did that for her because she meant something to you...I can't take that."

If Mich.e.l.le was telling him this as his Dominatrix he'd have been able to resist her need to control him. Instead, this was a blend of his woman and his Domina, giving him glimpses of the carefully guarded emotions he had a feeling she didn't show anyone. She trusted him, and his sense of purpose in this world strengthened as a renewed determination moved through him. What he felt for her was so far beyond love that he couldn't even find a word for it. She was everything to him; the world began and ended with her.

So it was easy to lean forward and rub his nose along her jaw without touching her with any other part of his body as he whispered, "I'll get a cover up done as soon as possible, but I need to think about it first. I want you to know every time you look at my back as you torment me that I belong to you and only you."

A hard shudder went through her and the stinging edge to her energy against his skin faded, leaving behind a soft, sure touch that had him dying to close the distance between them. To his surprise she smiled as the song changed and Don't Dream it's Over by Crowded House came on.

"I love this song. Dance with me."

They swayed together and she rested her face against his chest. "I don't know why she does things like this, Wyatt."

"Think it has anything to do with the fact that your mother doesn't know how to forgive your father?"

"What?"

He caressed her back as they danced together, forcing her to following his slow moves. "We had some choice words before your brother arrived. I'm afraid I kinda put your mom in her place. I'm sorry if that hurts you."

"Not at all." She stiffened then stiffened more when he reached down and grabbed her a.s.s, hard. "Easy there, Marine."

"Is that an order, Lieutenant?"

Her pupils dilated and she slowly licked her lower lip in an unconscious, sensual gesture. "Would you like to role play with me tonight? I must confess, there are many, many things that I want to do to you. If we were back home I'd even make you dress up for me in your uniform. I think I'd spend the first half hour just feeling your a.s.s, squeezing and gripping it because I can finally touch you, because you are mine."

His d.i.c.k just about punched through his pants to get at her undoubtedly wet little p.u.s.s.y. "I'm yours to command, Domina. Your pleasure is my pleasure."

"You are almost unfairly handsome and charming. Women don't stand a chance around you."

They jumped apart at the sound of a door opening. To Wyatt's surprise, Senator Sapphire came in with Mrs. Sapphire. She looked like h.e.l.l and had obviously cried all of her makeup off. Mich.e.l.le seemed startled, but then she moved closer to Wyatt and laced her hand with his then stood slightly in front of him, sending everyone an obvious message.

Mich.e.l.le lifted her chin and radiated cold control as she put on her ice queen mask. "Mother, I have nothing to say to you right now."

Mich.e.l.le started to turn away, but her father held up his hands. "Wait. Please give her a chance to explain."

Wyatt drew Mich.e.l.le back into his arms and whispered into her ear, "Hear her out. Better to just get it said and done with, like ripping off a Band-Aid."

Mrs. Sapphire looked down at her hands, a far different woman than the harpy who'd screamed at him earlier. For one brief second he'd wondered if he was having some kind of f.u.c.ked up side effect of PTSD and imagined she'd tried to bribe him, but for once he wasn't thankful he was still sane. What really bothered him was that Mich.e.l.le's mom wasn't rational when she'd been yelling at him after she cornered him in the house, of that he was sure. Talking to her was odd because she would skip around subjects until he wasn't sure what was going on, then pause before picking up with her rambling accusations again. He'd brush it off as her being just drunk, but that wasn't it. She blathered incoherently, but it wasn't from being wasted.

"Mich.e.l.le, I owe you and Wyatt an apology. But I'm afraid it's going to have to wait until after I go to rehab."

Mrs. Sapphire looked up and the shame in her gaze made Wyatt feel sorry for her, even as he braced a shaking Mich.e.l.le against his chest. Suddenly everything clicked and he realized that Mich.e.l.le's mother wasn't just drunk earlier, she was wasted when she'd been accusing him of all kinds of s.h.i.t. No wonder her pupils had been so off.

"Rehab? For what?"

Her lips thinned and he saw that irrational anger fill her before she visibly fought it off. "I'm addicted to OxyContin, Valium, and Percocet. After I broke my hip skiing five years ago my doctor gave me some pills for my pain. It made me...for the first time in my life I wasn't anxious. I could sleep at night without worrying until dawn. I discovered that my doctor could be persuaded to write additional prescriptions. With you and your brothers gone I had far too much time on my hands and an empty house. I know I've driven my children away, that I let my own personal issues affect you for too long, but it still hurt when I realized that you all avoided me as soon as you could leave. Your father was busy with being a Senator and I didn't want to add to his burdens. The drugs helped me to not feel how alone I was. They...they took away my pain both inside and out."

"Wait." Mich.e.l.le's grip on his hand tightened. "You were high tonight?"

Her mother nodded slowly, shame radiating from her. "I'm an addict, Mich.e.l.le. I can't function without my drugs and I was so nervous about you and Wyatt coming tonight that I took more than usual...and I drank."

Mich.e.l.le's hand trembled in his and he tightened his grip, trying to lend her his silent support as she confronted her mother. "Drugs are no excuse for what you said to Wyatt."

Her mother's gaze darted to Wyatt then back to the ground. "Darling, in my own messed up way I really was trying to look out for you. After Owen's death we almost lost you. You obviously love Wyatt, I could see it the moment I laid eyes on you, but I didn't think he was good enough for you. He comes from a working cla.s.s family, has no fortune of his own, he doesn't even have a job, and I worried that he was a gold digger."

Guilt shot through Wyatt, and he tried not to show it. Mich.e.l.le's mom was right, he was basically a loser. While he wasn't after Mich.e.l.le's money, he'd certainly been reaping the benefits of it. Though they'd been together for less than a month he hadn't spent a dime of his money on Mich.e.l.le other than the roses he'd bought her. If he was looking at this through Mrs. Sapphire's very distorted gaze he could see how she could consider him a loser. h.e.l.l, he felt like a loser.

Mich.e.l.le must have picked up on his mood because she entwined her fingers more firmly with his. "Did you try and chase off Kevin's wife? After all she was just a freshmen in college when they met and her dad is a janitor."

Her mother's lower lip trembled and tears rolled down her cheeks. "No, but Kevin is stronger than you are. I didn't have to worry about a breakup killing him."

"What?"

Now Mrs. Sapphire looked squarely at Wyatt instead of Mich.e.l.le. "Kevin knows how to forgive both himself and others, something Mich.e.l.le and I aren't very good at. He's not as fragile as we are."

To his surprise Mich.e.l.le didn't protest, instead turning her focus on her father who quietly stood by her mother's side, still holding her hand.

"Dad, did you know what was going on?"

He nodded. "I've been trying to get your mother to go to rehab, but so far she's refused. At first I blamed myself for it, that I'd driven her to seek relief in a pill bottle, but after going to therapy and doing a lot of soul searching I realized that while my actions may have contributed to her addiction, that the actual addiction itself is an insidious disease."

"You've been in therapy?"

"Of course." He glanced at Wyatt then back at Mich.e.l.le. "While I haven't been directly in the line of fire during this never-ending series of wars in the Middle East, I've had to deal with the fact that decisions I've made have gotten good men and women killed. I've had to meet with grieving parents, visit with our troops in the hospital, and attend more funerals than I care to remember. I didn't want to burden your mother with my issues, not when I'd betrayed her, so it started to bottle up inside of me until I couldn't sleep at night. I...I only went to get help when your mother told me she would leave me if I didn't. In my selfishness I never saw how much she needed help as well. I've done many things in my life that I'm not proud of, but my worst was being a bad husband."

Mrs. Sapphire briefly touched his face with their joined hands. "But you never gave up on us."

"And I never will. I mean it, Bethany, I will do whatever it takes to make things right between us. That's why I'm going to cut this short. We need to get you in a car and off to rehab where they can help you with easing you off of these drugs and get you the therapy you need before you change your mind."

To Wyatt's surprise Mich.e.l.le's mother grabbed his hand and squeezed it. "I promise. This time I'm going. Anytime I think about chickening out I'll remember being so screwed up that I broke my daughter's trust in me. I realize I've done so many horrible things to you Mich.e.l.le, and while I'd like to blame it on the drugs I think...I think my mind may not be quite right sometimes."

Mich.e.l.le stared at her mother. "What do you mean?"

Mrs. Sapphire looked away, her gaze going to the windows looking out over the now-dark backyard. "My whole life I've had anxiety, a need for order and structure to keep me in balance. My mother was the same way, if not worse. I used to think that I just had a very good work ethic, that my need for control wasn't anything unusual. But I'm beginning to see that isn't true, that there may be something wrong with the way I think, with the way my mind processes things. I have issues from my past that I need to deal with, and even though I hate admitting it, I need help."

"Come on, honey, it's time to go." Senator Sapphire pulled Mrs. Sapphire to the door. "Wyatt, I'm sorry we had to meet under these circ.u.mstances, but you have my blessings. Kidnap my daughter and take her to some beautiful island, and don't let her go until she agrees to marry you."

Mich.e.l.le stiffened against him and he tried to keep his tone light as he said, "Will do."

Moments later they were alone again and Wyatt slowly turned her in his arms. "How are you holding up?"

Her lower lip trembled, but she lifted her chin. "I'll survive."

"Come on, Domina, let's get you back to the hotel and we'll take a bath where I'll pamper you, then I'll make love to you until you pa.s.s out."

She sighed and leaned her head against his shoulder. "Thank you Wyatt. I don't deserve you."

"Ditto."

The next afternoon Wyatt followed Mich.e.l.le through the entrance to the ma.s.sive atrium where the wedding would take place. The atrium itself was over six stories high and boasted fully grown potted palm trees and a variety of fountains. While it didn't have b.u.t.terflies, it did have elaborate festoons of purple and white flowers decorating the seating area for the ceremony. There would be a brief, traditional reception afterwards then most of the crowd was headed to the Velvet Fist. Looking at all the immaculately bejeweled and coifed women and the stylish men Wyatt tried to imagine who would be going and if they were a Top or a bottom.

Mich.e.l.le wore a pale ice blue gown that fell to her ankles and was beaded in geometric designs on the top half while the bottom flared out, making it look like she was floating when she walked. Her hair had been swept up into a sophisticated twist accented with diamond pins and a diamond necklace sparkled against her throat like ice. When she'd casually looked through the selection of jewelry that she'd brought with her for the party Wyatt couldn't help but feel ashamed that he wasn't the one who'd bought it for her. Not that he could afford it even if he liquidated all of his a.s.sets, but he couldn't help but feel like a failure for not being as financially successful as everyone in this room.

They'd already been greeted at the door by a group of Mich.e.l.le, James, and Yuki's old friends and were now making their way to their seats for the ceremony. As they walked through the crowd Wyatt found himself being introduced again and again to an almost endless list of people he had no hope in h.e.l.l of keeping straight. James helped, naturally easing Wyatt into the conversation while Yuki, dressed in a black silk sheath gown, charmed everyone enough that they didn't seem to notice Mich.e.l.le's lack of partic.i.p.ation in the conversation.

But he noticed.

Everyone was cordial to Wyatt and seemed genuinely happy that Mich.e.l.le had brought him as her date. The only one unhappy with the situation seemed to be Mich.e.l.le. She hid it well, if he didn't know her he'd think her radiant smile was genuine, but he could feel the strain slowly building up in her and he worried about her. When one of her friends casually mentioned Owen in pa.s.sing she'd frozen up next to Wyatt. A soft, whispered moan of pain escaped her before she nodded along with the conversation, but he could practically hear the mask of perfection that she fortified herself with cracking.

He could feel her distancing herself from him, but had no idea how to stop it. This wasn't the place for one of their volatile conversations and he didn't want to do anything that would stress her out further. Just the fact that she'd brought him here said more about her commitment to their relationship than a thousand words so he tried to honor her trust in him by giving her subtle touches, little glancing caresses meant to warm her from the inside out. By the time they'd taken their seats Wyatt was seriously considering dragging Mich.e.l.le out of the room. Her pulse was racing hard enough that he could see it throbbing along the side of her elegant throat, and whenever he'd tried to hold her hand, it felt as if she was attempting to touch him as little as possible.

Yuki leaned across James to speak to Mich.e.l.le, "Hey, are you sure you want to go to the reception?"

Mich.e.l.le's response was instant and venomous. "Yes, I'm sure. Don't worry, I won't embarra.s.s you."

Yuki's eyes got big. "What the h.e.l.l are you talking about?"

Before Mich.e.l.le could respond the music for the wedding began to fill the atrium and Mich.e.l.le locked her eyes on the flower-festooned arch where the bride and groom would stand. The ceremony itself was brief but moving, and the obvious love between the couple getting married had more than one woman grabbing for a tissue. Mich.e.l.le was no different as the couple read their vows to each other, but when Wyatt tried to hold her hand she jerked hers away. He could practically feel the cold radiating off of her and though he tried to not take it personally, her standoffishness still hurt.

Once the official ceremony was over Mich.e.l.le left him with some muttered words about needing to use the restroom. Yuki went after her, leaving an increasingly frustrated Wyatt and James alone together. Mich.e.l.le was obviously losing it, but she wouldn't let him help her. It was as if she was afraid to let him touch her and he didn't know what to do to help her.

"Come on," James said with a sigh.

The men made their way towards the back of the atrium with its view of a dark Lake Michigan. Wyatt took a quick look around, then said in a low voice, "I'm worried about Mich.e.l.le."

"Me too. She's not handling this well."

"I think taking her to the club tonight is going to be a huge mistake."

James shook his head. "Maybe not. It might be just what Mich.e.l.le needs, a chance to work off her guilt and frustration."

"That's easy for you to say. You're not the one that she'll be working out her frustration on."

With a grin James gave his shoulder a quick squeeze, the man version of a hug. "I bet once Mich.e.l.le sees the surprise we have for her she'll snap out of her funk."

"I think it's more than a funk." Wyatt glanced around at the crowd now filling the tables for dinner. "I'm worried about her."

"Yuki's with her now. I'll take her aside and talk to her before we leave. If she thinks Mich.e.l.le can't handle the club I'll let you know and help you shove her into a cab myself." Running his hand through his short blond hair James let out a low sigh. "The last thing you want is for Mich.e.l.le to think that you see her as being unable to handle herself. If she feels like she has to prove something she'll push herself too far, no matter the consequences."

Wyatt thought back to the times he'd seen Mich.e.l.le push herself to the breaking point while treating the wounded. For a moment sorrow hit him hard enough that tears came to his eyes as he thought about the men and women who would never have the chance to go to a wedding again, to appreciate the sight of the moon reflecting off the water, and have the opportunity to enjoy the beauty of the world.

A list of names and faces flashed through him in little memory explosions. Mikey Salazar from Encino, California. He'd had a beautiful girlfriend waiting at home for him but he'd gotten blown to bits by a direct hit from a mortar while he was on patrol. They didn't even have a body to bury. Vince Caffries from some small town in Oregon had a mother who would write him every day, telling him about life back home. They'd been planning a parade to celebrate his return before he'd been shot in the neck and had bled out while Wyatt tried to desperately staunch the wound. The memory of that blood brought to mind pretty First Cla.s.s Petty officer Tanisha Jones. She'd been found hanging from the rafters in a supply tent after she received word that her solider husband had died stopping a suicide bomber while on duty.

His heart began to race and when James touched his arm he almost hit the other man.

"Whoa," James said as he held his hands up, his intelligent gaze searching Wyatt's face. "You okay?"

The urge to spit phantom dust from his mouth overcame Wyatt and he swallowed hard. "Give me a second."

He focused on one of the fountains nearby, making himself try to figure out the timing of the sprays of water. They weren't like regular fountains that just burbled or flowed. These fountains had streams of water that would shoot through the atrium in impossibly high arcs, only to land in another fountain, then leap again. They seemed to move in arcs of seven seconds and he forced himself to follow the pattern of the leaping water.