Chapter 7 #3
“I’m sorry, Gin. I was wrong to take it out on you.”
True. Still, she understood needing to protect family. Being angry for them. So she shared. “I guess no one told you that Mr. Slidell was removed from Sawyer’s case.”
“Seriously?”
She nodded. “So your complaint was heard. Eventually. In admin’s defense, I have to say they’re so used to inmates drowning the system in complaints and grievances that they probably didn’t move very quickly—especially since Sawyer didn’t say a word.”
“They brought you in to repair the damage.”
“I’m trying.” Not always succeeding. Her sense of urgency and frustration with Sawyer and her other cases pulled at her again, filling her head with everything she should be doing. Not sitting here and—
“Whoa, look at you disappear.” The voice came from— “Eyes on me, subbie.”
The rough-edged command whipped every thought from her head. She blinked and met Atticus’s intent gaze.
His dimple showed. “Fuck, you’re cute.”
Her expression of disbelief and disgust made him chuckle.
“Simon gave me orders. Since I see where he’s coming from, I’m going to follow them.”
Orders? What… Make her cry? Her mouth fell open.
“Virginia.” His hand curved over her jaw, holding her so she was forced to look into his blue, blue eyes.
A girl could get lost in those eyes. In his face that said strength and honesty.
“Sweetling, I watched you and Garrett. You wanted a spanking but didn’t trust him enough for it to work. Can you trust me?”
The nod happened before she could get her lips around the word no.
“This time, you have a safeword. It’s red.
” Even as she processed the words, Atticus lifted her, and a second later, she was belly-down over his muscular thighs.
A caress of cool air hit her buttocks as he flipped up her tiny leather skirt, and then…
right where she was already sore…a hand like concrete smacked her bottom.
“Ow!” She shoved up, kicked, rocked. Her right hand tried to shield her ass.
He bent her arm, pinned her right wrist to the hollow of her back, and held her there as he continued. Smack, smack, smack.
The burning grew, familiar this time, taking her over until each bite of pain thrust her closer to losing it. Tears filled her eyes and spilled over as she choked back her cries. The pain of controlling them was worse than the burning on her skin.
He stopped to rub her bottom. His other hand rested on her lightly as she struggled to maintain control. Inside her head, she could hear herself saying the safeword, but her jaw gripped the word too tightly to escape.
“Sweetheart,” he said gently. “Let go. Trust me with those tears.”
But to cry would mean…opening up. She could feel the dark, impenetrable barriers that kept her safe. That imprisoned her emotions.
To her dismay, he started again. Stinging, painful slaps hit her bottom, her upper thighs. It hurt… The pain increased, filling her head, crushing any resistance before it.
Inside her chest, the ball of sobs grew, cracking the barriers, breaking through until she couldn’t hold back. Until she was crying and crying, loud and jagged.
“There we go, baby.” He gripped her waist, lifted her, turned her, and set her on his lap. As he pulled her close, his fingers threaded into her hair to bring her cheek against his wide chest.
She cried.
The sobs spilled out like a river in flood, uprooting her emotions. Anger and frustration and bitterness and sorrow were scoured clean.
A lifetime later, she realized she’d stopped, and only hitching breaths were escaping. Her face lay against a shirt soaked with her tears.
Warmth radiated from Atticus. His hold on her was like his ropes, snug and secure and unbreakable. With growling, soothing noises, he stroked her shoulders.
She’d cried all over the man.
Surely, she should feel embarrassed, but only found…quiet. She was emptied, mind and soul, as if a brisk wind off the high glaciers had blown everything away, leaving only crisp, clean air behind. She pulled in a bigger breath and felt his hand pause.
“Back with me?” he rumbled.
Each movement took an age, but eventually, she lifted her head.
One corner of his mouth tipped up as his gaze moved over her face. Oh lord, her makeup must be running down her face. He shifted her so he could grab a tissue from a box on the hay bale.
“Hay bales are sprouting tissue boxes?” Her voice came out husky.
“Simon brought one over.” He ignored her hand and wiped her cheeks and under her eyes.
“Thank you.” None of Gin’s lovers had…cared…for her. Not like this. She’d never felt so cherished in her life. “Sorry for…” For bawling all over you like a baby. For doing it for such a long, long time. For—
“Sweetheart, I made you cry.” His hand lay along her cheek; his thumb stroked her chin, her lips. And then his lips grazed hers before he said in an even voice, “If you hadn’t, I’d have kept spanking you.”
His level look said he spoke only the truth. He really had wanted her to cry—and so had Simon. “B-but, why?”
He tilted his head. “How do you feel now? Stressed? Upset? Conflicted?”
Cleaned out. “Oh.”
His lips quirked, and he ruffled her hair. “Time to get fluid and food into you.”
As he set her on her feet, her legs wobbled. He steadied her with an arm around her waist…and she almost started crying again.
When they moved into the open area, she spotted several women standing nearby, carefully not watching, yet sending flirtatious looks at Atticus.
Gin bit her lip. Considering the way he looked—and how darned dominant he was—she’d bet he was extremely popular. “Um. I can…can manage by myself. You don’t need to concern yourself.”
“I don’t, huh?” He stopped midstride. “What’s going on in that head of yours, babe?
“I know you probably have others to see,” she said reasonably. “Simon didn’t give you any choice, but I’m fine now on my own.”
Hearing Gin’s words, a twenty-something brunette slid smoothly into their path. Her skintight mesh revealed lush breasts and a shaved pussy. “Atticus, I’m free whenever you are.”
Gin stiffened. As she’d feared. Now she knew where she stood. She started to pull away.
Fucking-A. Atticus tightened his grip around the little submissive he intended to keep and stared down at the one he’d enjoyed last winter. Only enjoyed wasn’t the right word, considering how full of demands and I-wants she’d been. Tanya had taken and given nothing back.
His brows drew together.
A snorting laugh came from the left where Logan and Jake were blatantly eavesdropping.
Atticus shot them an irritated look. Jesus, he hated when the bastards were right. But they were. He’d let his standards lapse. True, he enjoyed giving, but a too-permissive Dom wasn’t good for anyone in the lifestyle. And this kind of behavior from a submissive was plain disgusting.
His attention returned to Tanya, who smiled as if she’d been cute.
“Did I ask for you?” His tone was icy, and he felt Gin flinch.
“Um.” Tanya took a careful step back. “No.”
“Did you interrupt a conversation I was having?”
“No. I mean yes. Sir. I-I’m sorry, Sir.”
“Interrupting anyone is rude. A submissive butting into a Dom’s conversation is inexcusable. Who the fuck trained you?”
Someone cleared his throat. Xavier had joined Jake and Logan.
Seeing him, Tanya went corpse-white and dropped to her knees.
“Tanya is a member of Dark Haven,” Xavier said. “If you care to reprimand her, I can watch over the other one.” When he nodded to Gin, the little social worker edged so close to Atticus that he could feel her every curve.
Amusement glinted in Xavier’s black eyes, and Atticus smothered a smile.
Xavier finished, “Or I can assign Tanya to someone who’d enjoy reinforcing proper protocol.”
Atticus kissed the top of Gin’s head, inhaling her delicate fragrance. “This one is mine. Do what you will with the other.”
“I rather thought that’s what you’d say.” The Dark Haven Dom fisted Tanya’s hair, pulled her to her feet—not roughly, but ruthlessly—and walked away.
All right then. Atticus held Gin a minute, thinking over the past few minutes. To have a beautiful woman unsure of her appeal was refreshing and yet unacceptable. “Virginia.”
He waited until she lifted her head.
“Just so you know, Simon knew I planned to hook up with you. He simply lent a hand.”
She blinked. And then he saw what he’d hoped for. Delight.
God, he liked seeing her happy.
Rubbing his cheek against her soft one, he murmured, “Let’s get some food—and if you want to protect me from any other forward submissives, you have my permission.”
When she gave a husky laugh, he rewarded her—and himself—with a slow, long, deep kiss.
Gin hadn’t noticed—after all, crying took a lot of work—but the atmosphere of the barn had changed over the evening.
A few scenes continued, but the earlier intense anticipation had disappeared.
In the “social” area, sweaty, glowing submissives sat on blankets or rugs at their Doms’ feet.
To Gin’s surprise, it felt…nice…to be one of them.
Who ever thought Ms. Professional would enjoy sitting on the ground between a man’s knees while he fed her tidbits from his plate. How strange.
Hmm. Did submission fulfill some sort of deep-seated need in a woman? Or maybe… She shook her head. Not a good time for psychological evaluation, let alone reality testing.
She’d accept—for now—that Atticus’s behavior wasn’t humiliating as much as it was claiming, as if he was proclaiming she had a place where she belonged.
One where she felt safe. Cared for. Wasn’t this what everyone wanted?
When he stopped to stroke her hair, she noticed his plate was empty. Rising gracefully—and wasn’t she proud of not tripping?—she took the dish from him. “Can I get you more food or some coffee or anything?”
His smile was a satisfying reward. “You learn fast, sweetheart. Now, pretend you’re in the military and tag a ‘Sir’ on the end when you talk to a Dom. For politeness.”