Chapter 9 #7
He snaps the dildo belt against my hip. “You can try to sleep in this for an hour if you keep up the sass, girl.”
“I promise to be the most angelic subbie you’ve ever met if you please-please-please take it out.”
“Angelic, huh?”
“You’ll be able to see my halo from Queens, sir.”
Mac snorts but unbuckles the belt and eases the dildo out of me. I swear I hear my pussy sigh with relief. I feel the touch of cool air inside me. That’s the weirdest thing. It’s like an OB/Gyn exam. I try to squeeze my internal muscles, but they’ve gone on strike.
“Please can I lie on my side, sir?”
“Give me a second here, girl. I’m just going to clean you up and move everything off the bed. Then we’ll get comfortable and have a cuddle.”
That sounds good. I draw my legs together as much as I can with him still kneeling behind me and that helps with the weirdness of everything being so open down below.
Mac moves around, wiping me up, unclipping and uncuffing me, and finally taking off the blindfold.
The room’s almost dark, with a dusting of light from the bathroom illuminating the edges of my furniture and the curves of Mac’s shoulders as he leans over me.
“Eyes okay, girl? You’ve been blindfolded for quite a while.”
“Mmm-hmm. I’m good, sir. Thanks for having the lights off.”
He kisses my cheek. “You’re welcome. Do you sleep with the bathroom light on?” At my nod, he gives me another kiss. “Roll over onto your side. I’m going to grab a T-shirt, so I don’t stick to you and then it’s time for some shut-eye.”
I am so fucking ready for that.
I’m already drifting a little when Mac climbs over me again and pulls the covers up over us. “Here, girl. Make your safe call before you nod off.”
He remembered that? I’m so glazed I didn’t remember, and I’ve never forgotten a safe call.
He offers me my phone. I prop myself up on my elbow but instead of calling, I send Austin a quick text, then pop my phone onto the nightstand.
I’m too wasted to talk to anyone and Austin’s going to want the tea.
Before I’ve even slumped back into the pillows, Mac’s gathering me up in his arms and tucking me into his chest. I shift until I’m comfortable and settle my head on his shoulder, breathing in the warm scents of his cologne and sweat.
He slips his hand up my neck and strokes through my hair.
I help him pull out the clips that are keeping my bun together and let him smooth the mass of dreads over the pillow.
He does it without any painful yanking on my scalp, which is pretty surprising.
Or maybe my nerve-endings have gone on strike.
“You’re good at that, sir. With my dreads. Like you know what to do,” I mutter. “I can’t see you dating someone with dreads before.”
“No, girl, I haven’t. I’m just treating them like rope. Any sailor knows better than to thread his fingers through rope. Unless you want to be a nine-fingered sailor.”
I chuckle sleepily.
He murmurs, “Settle, girl. I’ll wake you in an hour.”
“You can try, sir.”
“Sounds like a challenge.”
“Mrrsrr,” I grunt, right on the edge of sleep, cuddling as close as I can to his comforting warmth and Mac-scent.
He chuckles, warm and low. “That’s right, snuggleslut. Take it. Take all the snuggles.”
Even as I slide down into a sex-coma, that makes me laugh.
An hour and ten minutes later, he proves not only that he can wake me out of a sex-coma, but he can make me want to fuck again.
The good sex-chemicals have destroyed my ability to think.
That’s the only excuse I have for not objecting, vociferously, when Mac wakes me before the freaking sunrise.
The serotonin’s fucked my head so badly that I even give him a blow job before I go back to sleep.
He wakes me again when he climbs into the shower after going for a morning run.
Who goes running after the marathon sex we had last night?
I’m not even sure I can make it to the bathroom and back on my noodle legs and he’s out running for hours in the chilly fall dawn? He’s a bigger masochist than I am.
That’s why I get up while he’s in the shower and make him a huge omelet, breakfast links, and toast. No other reason. Certainly not because I’m slightly giddy and so sore and blissfully used that I wince every time I move even while I’m grinning so hard my cheeks ache.
Definitely not any of that.
“When’s your next day off, girl?” Mac asks as we’re sitting at my tiny dining table. He’s drawn my bare feet into his lap and is casually rubbing them while demolishing his food.
“Fareena owes me because I’ve been covering for her while her babysitter’s been sick, so I could take a couple days off this week if you wanted. I’m not scheduled to be off again until Friday but then I’m off for four days.”
Four days that I was supposed to spend at Blunts because it’s the festival of the October Horse this weekend. All of the house subs work during the festivals and I look forward to this one all year. Although I don’t have much interest in becoming a pony girl full-time, I love pony play.
How weird is it that I don’t even feel a twinge of disappointment that I’ll be missing the festival because I’ll be spending time with Mac instead?
“I owe you a motorcycle ride,” Mac says, digging his thumb into my instep, which nearly makes me swoon off my chair.
“Harry’s club in Jersey is doing a charity ride on Wednesday.
If you can take the time off, it’ll be fun.
Fall colors are starting. It’s an easy ride for your first time.
And if you can squeeze me in, I’d like to get a start on the mermaid before we go. ”
“I can do both, sir.”
Mac grunts in approval around his mouthful of eggs. After he swallows, he shoots me a funny glance and says, “Something I’d like to do on the weekend. If you’re up for it.”
I’m not sure if it’s a question, and I’m not sure how to answer. “What is it, sir?”
“My daughter can have visitors on Sunday. I’d like to take you to meet her.”
I have to scrape my jaw up off the table. I know how much his daughter means to him. And he wants to introduce me to her? “I, um, I’d love to meet her, sir.”
“I’ve been calling her every day and it sounds like she’s doing better, but she’s still in rough shape. I figure that won’t bother you but if it’ll be too upsetting to see her struggling with her demons, just say so.”
“No problem, sir. It’s not my first rodeo with addiction.”
“That’s my bold girl. Small wrinkle is that my ex-wife is also coming up to see Naomi on Sunday.
I’d like to say we won’t bump into her but, knowing Amy, she’ll engineer it so we do.
I doubt Amy’ll say much to you, but she’ll try to embarrass the hell out of me.
Think you can endure if I need a manly cry on your shoulder after she’s ripped me a new one? ”
His humor both makes me laugh and tears something in me, because I know he’s using it to deflect what must be very real pain. “I can, sir.”
“Amy’s mostly just a very unhappy person, Bren. Keep that in mind when you meet her.”
“Okay, sir, I will.” How did he survive twenty years of being married to a very unhappy person?
Or was it their divorce that made her that way?
I kind of want to meet her now just so I can get a feel for why things went wrong between them.
“Before we go—doesn’t have to be right now—would you tell me why you split up? ”
Mac swallows hard, his Adam’s apple working. “It’s not a very nice story, girl.”
“Won’t be the first I’ve heard, sir.”
He nods. “I forget, sometimes, looking at you, how much of the ugly side of life you’ve already experienced.
Yes, I’ll tell you about it. Let’s do some of the fun stuff first so you don’t think being with me’s nothing but disappointment and dragon dildos.
” He winks at me. “Then we’ll share some more painful personal history. ”
“That’s a deal, sir. And I really want to see the dragon dildo.”
He cleaned it and tucked it away last night before I even got a glimpse and there was no sign of it this morning.
“No, the contents of my toy bag are off-limits to you, nosy girl. I like keeping you guessing about the pussy mangler, particularly since it still has a surprise or two for you.”
“Ohmigod, if that thing is a vibrator, you keep it away from me.”
Mac laughs. “It is but that’s not the surprise. Behave yourself or you’ll find out much sooner than your sore little kitty can handle.”
Jeez, if that isn’t an incentive to keep my mouth shut. But that’s just not me. “Rawr.”
He lifts his eyebrows at me. “Rawr?”
“That’s my kitty roaring.”
Mac throws his head back and laughs. “What am I gonna do with you, girl?”
“Be at my beck and call?” I phrase it as a question, so he feels free to tell me he has better things to do.
“That’s a given. I have to shoot back to my place at some point to pick up my bike, but that’ll take two hours, tops.”
“Let me take a look at the schedule, but I think I can fit you in for an hour today to start on the line work for your mermaid. And then we have lunch plans.” I flex my feet in his lap at the thought.
“I’d say kickboxing tonight. But I’m not sure I’ll be able to walk by then and you shouldn’t do any impact sport after you’ve had a tattoo. ”
Besides, Mac washed away all the impotent anger I felt at the skinhead trashing my shop sign and tagging the shutter on a tide of orgasms. I don’t feel the need to pound my frustration out on the heavy bag.
“I’d suggest waiting until Thursday,” I say. “There’s a beginner class at eight.”
He tickles my instep. “You think I’m a beginner at anything, girl?”
I give him my best wide-eyed, Emily glance. “No, sir.”
He chuckles. “I’m keeping track, sweetheart, and your ass is going to pay for each and every one of these little jibes.”
I squirm in my chair. My butt isn’t as insanely sore as my pussy, but it wouldn’t take much before I’d be calling yellow.
I hope he takes it easy on me at lunch. Weeeell, a little easy.
I’ll be disappointed if he dials it way back, because fuck me, his claiming last night pushed every single one of my buttons.
I try to divert Mac by wiggling my toes, which gets him rubbing again.
“There’s, um, someone coming to see me at eleven.
He’s a potential supplier of biodegradable equipment.
Plastic waste is a huge thing in my industry and I’m always looking for ways to cut down and make what I do more environmentally friendly.
Might be boring, but, if you wanted, you could sit in. ”
Mac tips his head to the side and gives me a long look. “I’d like that, girl.”
I shrug like it’s no big deal. I’m not even sure why I’ve offered, since he’s been good about staying out of my business. But it is a big deal, and I am concerned about the environment, and I would like his input.
“So what charity is the ride for?” I ask, to change the subject, since Mac’s looking at me a little too closely for comfort.
“Autism research,” Mac says, switching gears without so much as a pause or lifted eyebrow. “Rolling Blue supports a couple of different charities. A foodbank, a battered women’s shelter, Samaritans, and autism research.”
I nod. “Good cause. There’s still too little known about the spectrum.”
“Do you know anyone on it?”
“Yeah, a girl named Beth who was at Mother Kay’s with me.
She was really smart. She could recite the prime numbers into the millions.
Tell you every President and every member of their cabinet all the way back to Washington.
But she’d also rage out for no reason. She struggled through school and was bullied like you would not believe.
She’s settled into a good place now. She’s an aesthetician over in the Bronx.
She and her guy have a little girl. She comes by now and then for fresh ink.
I’ll introduce you the next time she comes in. ”
“I’d like that.”
Now he’s got me doing it: stamping permanence all over everything. Like he’s going to be around in a month or two when Bethy next comes in. I shake myself before I get sucked down any further into our mutual stupidity.
“What does one wear to a charity motorcycle ride?” I ask, waving my hand around like I’m the Queen of England or some shit.
Mac chuckles. “Whatever one’s Dom tells one to. I’m thinking that black lace outfit you wear to the club and a massive butt plug.”
I don’t know anything about riding a motorcycle, but I can take a guess that sitting on a banana seat fastened to a huge engine while wearing a massive butt plug will not be comfortable. “Sounds chilly, sir.”
That draws a full laugh out of him. “Don’t worry, girl. I’ll keep you warm. Little ginger oil on the nips and clit and you won’t feel the wind.”
It’s my turn to laugh.