Her skin was flushed, her lips swollen with that kiss, and she was practically vibrating. Celeste shook her head. "So what did he say? 'I'm done with you, ho, and have a nice life'?"
Marcie flicked her neck with long nails. "No. He said he'd meet me at the altar and if I valued my gorgeous ass, I'd better be on time. I told him I'd be there as long as I didn't have anything else more pressing. Hair-washing, a manicure, that kind of thing."
Celeste shook her head, then squawked as Marcie threw her arms around her, squeezed hard. "I'm getting married," she announced in giddy delight.
"Ow. You've been working out way too much. Let me go, Butch." But she caught Max's amused glance in the mirror and couldn't help smiling back at him.
Marcie settled back, tucked a lock of her blonde hair behind her ear and glanced out the window to see Ben still standing there. He was watching her window as if he could see her, despite the black tinting. For her part, Marcie put her hand on the glass as if she could touch him, then cleared her throat. "Let's go shopping."
Chapter Fourteen
Celeste lay in the king-sized bed that felt too big without Leland in it and played with the hairband, slipping it on and off her fingers, threading it through her knuckles, and then wrapping it back around her wrist again. She was lying on her side, looking through the sheer panels out into the back yard. The storage pod was a large block-shaped silhouette, the chairs, tables and other assorted items necessary for the ceremony and reception inside it. They'd be set up in the morning. Today a small army had strung white lights in the trees and set up the altar platform. The arbor of greenery over it threw shadows like lace against the lawn, thanks to the lit trees. Marcie had wanted the tree lights to stay on through the night. "So I can look at them from my window and dream about tomorrow," she'd said. Celeste couldn't bring herself to tease the girl for her unabashed schmaltziness, since her own heart had tilted at the simple purity of her happiness.
Tomorrow they'd fill in those spaces on the arbor with fresh flowers and more greenery. It would be a beautiful wedding. The weather was predicted to be a gorgeous fall day, sunny with temperatures in the low seventies, a light breeze and moderate humidity. The latter was of major concern for the bride, who had thick, natural curly locks. Cassandra had reassured her little sister. "Vivian's getting here mid-morning to do your hair. She'll shellac it with Gorilla Glue if needed."
Celeste had helped the sisters wherever needed, making some calls and helping with wedding favors, wrapping gifts for the groomsmen and bridesmaids. When they hadn't needed her, she'd slipped off to her room or the gazebo and caught up on some projects, fleshing out two articles she'd started, one on budget conflicts between state agencies and the governor's office, and the other on the local impact of New Orleans adding parishes to their metro area. Between her own notes and checking online resources, she had enough to work on those stories without making calls or pursuing avenues that would reveal where she was. It still chafed, however.
Even if she had been kidding Leland--and she wasn't sure she had been--she'd only play it his way through this weekend. If Dogboy was still at large on Monday, she was going back home. She had a gun and she knew how to use it, as well as her pepper spray. She'd carry both. He wasn't keeping her from her life.
Up until recently, her life was her work. But today had reminded her she did have a couple important friendships, and whether she shied from the idea or not, she was smack in the middle of a budding relationship. She twisted the balls of the hairband to tighten its grip. It made her think of Leland's hand there, but there was no comparison between the thin friction of the covered elastic and the energy in his grasp. He'd called back in the afternoon to tell her they'd had a double homicide in his district. Unfortunately, that made it impossible for him to get there that night to join the K&A men for their private get-together with Ben, or to be with her, but he'd promised to be there Saturday, bright and early.
She was disappointed enough that her neediness irritated her, so she'd told him fine, it didn't matter. She also told him she had to help Marcie with something and couldn't talk, so she'd hung up before he had a chance to say anything else. Or she could get snottier about him not coming back when she was hoping he would. She understood his job, understood the demands of it. It didn't make her feel less bitchy about it.
When she hung up on him, Marcie had given her an odd look. She'd been stretched out on a couch, Cassandra painting her toenails. Celeste just shrugged and went back to looking at the newsfeeds. A couple weeks ago, she hadn't had a man in her life and she'd been just fine. Better than fine. She was torn between rushes of feeling that went all the way to her toes, thinking about him, and a violent rejection of them.
Proving that she was suffering a major case of romance bipolarism, now she was lying in bed, cursing herself for being that short with him. If they'd had a longer conversation, she could have been going over that in her mind, rather than debating whether or not she should call him back. She thought of what Marcie had said, her frustration with having to deal with Ben's doubt, his pulling back because he thought he wasn't good enough for her. That had hit uncomfortably close to home, and made her blurt out those stupid things that were obvious self-reflection. Fortunately, none of the women had made her feel uncomfortable about it. Dana had taken it a step further. When the champagne brunch had ended, she'd slid an arm around Celeste, ran her hand down her arm, a comfort.
"It'll be all right, you know," the minister said. "When it's meant to be, these things tend to work out. No matter how hard you fight them. Trust me. Marcie's the only exception in this room. Every woman here had reasons to push away the men we married. Not little reality show dramas, either. Big, important reasons we each thought were totally insurmountable, but they proved us different."
"Why was Marcie different?"
"The shoe was on the other foot for her. She had to convince Ben the reasons didn't matter. That the way they felt for one another could break down every wall, heal every wound, and make him believe in a future together."
Celeste had gazed at the other four women drifting up the path toward the house. Cassandra said something to Savannah, and Matt's wife embraced her. Whatever they were discussing made Rachel chuckle. Marcie wrapped her arms around Rachel, putting her head on her shoulder while Rachel put both arms around her, kissing her forehead and stroking her head, the two of them rocking back and forth together as the four women continued to talk. "It's hard when you're still on the other side of the fence," Celeste said.
"Yes, it is. They could each tell you their story, and it would help some, but you're caught in your story now, and have to work your way through it before you can really hear theirs. Maybe when you've reached that other side, you'll join us one night and we'll all tell our stories, share them. Off the record." Dana nudged her teasingly.
"Sure, spoil all my fun. Marcie talks about those monthly dinners like they're vital therapy."
"Exactly. But better than therapy, because we have wine and chocolate."
Coming back to the present, Celeste curled up under her covers. She'd been surprised to hear the murmur of Lucas's voice a couple hours ago. Apparently the men's get together with Ben wasn't an all-night bachelor party. His feelings about that must match his bride's, a good sign. If she had to guess, she expected it had been no more than a quiet congratulatory drink between male friends who were close as family. A bonded pack of brothers who understood one another in ways only matched by the relationships they had with the women in their lives.
Leland's smell was gone and she wanted it back. She wanted him back. She'd told Leland she didn't apologize for how she was, how she pushed away more often than she pulled someone close to her. There was no point to it. But she wanted to say she was sorry to him. Sliding her hand up to her throat, she curved her fingers there, thought of the collar he'd put on her. When it was there, so much had stilled, had gotten clearer. Or rather, she hadn't needed to think about her murky psyche.
 
; The phone started to vibrate. Since he and the members of this household were the only ones who had it, she knew it had to be him. She drew it off the nightstand, closed her fingers around it. Answer it. Answer it. It was late, he would assume she was asleep.
Fuck it, stop it, you stupid, destructive bitch. She started to put the phone back on the nightstand, and then she hit the connect button.
"I'm asleep," she informed him.
"That's a shame. I was looking forward to having phone sex. That shrewish, nasty tone gets me going."
"I didn't know a Dom could be a masochist. Listen, I know I was pissy earlier today--"
"We talked about you apologizing, Celeste. You only owe me an apology when I tell you that you do."
"How do you know I was going to apologize? Maybe I was going to say 'Yeah, I was pissy. Deal with it.'"
He chuckled, the warmth of the sound unfurling inside her. "Are you in bed?"
"No. I'm at the desk, working."
"No, you're not. Are you in bed, Celeste?"
He could sharpen that baritone like distant thunder sliding along a knife. It focused her on his intent, giving the liquid arousal flowing through her an electric feeling. She thought of him with a knife in his hand, trailing the edge over her skin, so lightly, her slightest movement capable of producing a nick, but he trusted her to stay still when he commanded her to do so...
"Yeah, I am. I told you I was asleep."
"So you did. What were you thinking, right before I called?"
Her hand constricted on the phone. "I was...I put my hand on my throat, thought of the collar there."
"You miss it."
"I miss your hand there more." She curled into a smaller ball. "I'm so bad at this, Leland."
"Actually, you're outstanding at this. Some subs, they play games to test their Dom, or because their minds are all over the map, not sure how to handle surrender. You're brutally honest, darlin'. You lay a trail down in pretty colored lights for me to follow."
She wasn't sure what he meant by that, but he didn't give her a chance to press him to explain. "Put your hand back on your throat. Squeeze it, imagine your hand is my hand."
She did, and this time her breath shortened. "Leland..."
"Put the phone on speaker," he ordered. "Lay it on the pillow. You're not going to talk. I am."
"Okay." She did as he bid. "It's there."
"Cup your breasts with both hands. I love your breasts, darlin'. I've got big hands and you fill them up nice. Your nipples press into my palms, and I just want to suck on them all night long, bite on them, play with them until you're so wet I can lick all that honey off your thighs, rub my face in it, in your cunt. You'd spread your legs for me because I told you to do it, wouldn't you?"
"Yes." She wanted to do it now, so slid on her back, still cupping her breasts, and let her thighs fall open. "I don't resent your job. I don't ever want you to think that. I just want you to be here." She sounded plaintive, and hated that. But his response drove that negative feeling away.
"If we hadn't had that double homicide, I'd be settling between your legs now, easing my cock inside all that wet heat. You're a tight fit, Celeste. I like watching you take my cock, the way you have to concentrate, move your hips to make it fit. Makes me even bigger, makes you have to work harder for it."
She almost whimpered her frustration. "Where are you?"
"You know where I am. I'm inside you, Celeste. That's what's got you so spooked. And you're inside me. I couldn't stop thinking about you today. Tell me what you thought about."
"I thought about Marcie...and Ben. About how he pushed her away, too, and she stuck with it. I understood why he feels how he does. Because I feel that way, too."
"You think if you're not nice to me, I'll go away?"
"Yes."
"That's just not true, Celeste. You know the only thing that would make me go away?"
"I don't want to know. I'll do it, just because I'm me."
"No, you won't. The only thing that would make me go away is knowing you really, truly didn't want to be with me. And that isn't something your mouth tells me. It's something I feel. The more your mouth says go away, the closer you really want me. I feel it. You want me so close you can't even breathe. You'd give up breathing to have me that close."
She closed her eyes. "So why aren't you here so I can stop breathing?"
"Believe me, darlin', there's no place I'd rather be. Did you enjoy being with the girls?"
"They say they've never seen you play publicly. And they wanted to know if it's true about black men."
"That had to have come from Marcie." His voice held fondness. "That girl is trouble up one side and down the other. Are your hands still where I told you they should be?"
They'd started to slip away, but she put them back there as his voice returned to that thrilling note of command. It was probably good she wasn't one of the few female officers in his district. She'd embarrass herself on a regular basis, the way everything in her yearned toward that tone. "Yes."
"Good. If I tell you to do something, you keep doing it until I tell you otherwise. It keeps your mind occupied, keeps your body ready for me, for whatever I want to do to it."
She'd fantasized about phone sex, but hadn't thought it would really be her thing if the opportunity presented itself. She'd been wrong.
"Tell me what you've imagined me doing to you," he said.
"Why do you assume I've been spending any time thinking about that at all? I've been busy."
"Hmm. Well I don't want to interrupt that, so I guess I'll get back to what I'm doing."
"Jerk. Ass." She sighed as her fingers convulsed on her breasts. Her aching nipples could almost feel him there, the powerful suction of his mouth, the stroke of his tongue. Her hips bore down into the mattress, lifted. She was so empty. She didn't want to be empty. "I thought about you being here the other night. The way you just...took over. It's so quiet in here, so dark. I feel like I could do anything with you...for you. You took away my sight, with the scarf. All I felt were your hands, your breath. That was all that mattered."
"Yes. You're learning, darlin'. That's why I don't play publicly that often. It's between you and me. Matt invited me to the after-party at Ben's loft. He has a lot of equipment there. It'll be an intimate group, probably less than fifteen people. Would you like to go and watch, Celeste? Go as my sub? Tell me how your nipples feel."
"You know how they feel. It's you feeling them, at least in my mind."
"Hmm. So I'd say they're nice, firm points. And your breasts are warm from my hands."
"Yes. And yes. I would like to go...as your sub."
"As mine."
"Yes." She closed her eyes tighter. "I don't know about doing anything more than watching. I'm not sure if I'm like that."
"Well, as I said, I'm not much of a public player myself. We'll see how it goes. This is a pretty private group. They tend to be more reserved themselves. I expect they'll enjoy the equipment, but probably as couples, not sharing. Matt and Savannah tend to watch more when they're in a group as well, so you wouldn't feel self-conscious. Not that you'd need to worry about that, even if we were the only ones watching. I need to go, darlin'."
"Oh." She pushed away the disappointment. What had she expected, that he would stay on the phone with her until dawn? He needed sleep so he could get up early, come to her. "Well, I...when will you be here tomorrow? Or today." She glanced at the clock, saw it was after one.
"In about ten minutes. I have to get off the phone because I'm pulling up the drive and I need to let Dale know I'm not someone he needs to break into twenty pieces and then shoot."
Her toes curled in delight at the idea of seeing him so soon, but she tried to sound nonchalant. "Wouldn't he save himself a lot of effort just shooting you?"
"SEALs like a workout. See you in a minute, darlin'." His voice got husky. "When I get up there, I expect to see you naked and playing with those gorgeous breasts, your legs spread, showing me h
ow wet your pussy is, because I'm going to fuck you first thing. No foreplay tonight. I need to be inside you."
He clicked off, leaving her in mid-shudder. She was warm all over, so it was easy to push away the covers. Not as easy to do as he bid, because she felt self-conscious drawing off the sleep shirt, but then she thought of how he'd look as he came through the door, the brown eyes piercing. The light from the decorated trees illuminated the room so he'd be able to see her, the pink of her flesh, the neediness of her eyes, the fullness of her parted lips, their moistness as she hungered for his mouth to be on hers.
It was less than ten minutes, which was good, because she might have chickened out on the pose. He didn't knock, the door opening then closing behind him, ensuring their privacy. The house was silent, though, everyone sleeping at this point, gathering energy for the busy day ahead.
Leland had already had a busy day, and a bad one. She could see it around his eyes, in the set of his mouth. Her Master was exhausted, mentally and physically. Cops didn't bring it home. He'd said that himself, that they didn't want what they saw to touch their family, and they didn't want being home with their family to be about that for themselves as well.
Yet there were things that could bleed over, because there was no setting them aside. She'd expected him to have the fierce light of lust in his eyes, to feel that edgy passion. He had that, could give her that, but she saw something else.
He'd said he needed to be inside her. He needed her, period.
The gaze he slid up her body was pure, desperate hunger. She'd pleased him by doing as he'd ordered, opening her legs, cupping her breasts, offering herself to him, but as he leaned against the door, staring at her as if she was the best thing he'd ever seen, she wanted to do more. She slid her hands down her body, trailed her fingers between her legs, stroked herself. Dipped her fingers inside her slick labia. His eyes darkened, and his barely leashed desire made her breath shorten.