Torment. Just like it was for Ben.
“Marcie?” Savannah spoke in that quiet, steady way of hers that commanded instant attention. “No, you don’t need to look toward me. Just feel. And listen, when it’s time to do so.”
She could do that. Cass pressed a kiss to her forehead, touched her nose then moved out of her view. Marcie’s fingers curled into Dana’s as Savannah sent that cube of ice gliding the length of what felt like one of the rawhide marks, down over the pitting caused by the rattan points. A drop of water rolled down her buttock, into the crease. It was pretty close to her pussy, and that was starting to throb. She had her legs closed, but she wanted them open, wanted to feel that ice glide over labia, touch her clit and make her writhe. Get a grip, Marcie. This is Savannah, Matt’s wife. Who was probably the only woman in the history of the world who could walk with a regal sway, versus an adorable waddle, during advanced pregnancy.
But her mind couldn’t help but turn to Ben, how he’d used ice in a far more invasive way to cool her down, to stop her orgasm when she couldn’t do it herself. Dana made it worse, because now she bent her head, brushed her lips to Marcie’s palm, her wrist. When she used the tip of her tongue, Marcie let out a breath, fingers gripping Dana’s more tightly. “Guys…what…” Then she remembered what Savannah had said. Feel. Listen.
“That was Max at the door,” Savannah said in that same conversational murmur. “He was making sure you were okay, that you’d come to us, rather than sneaking off to bed.”
“They really are the most overprotective, interfering males ever,” Marcie muttered. She’d tried to do that. Couldn’t. What would happen when Max told Matt? Maybe she could get Savannah to intervene. This was between her and Ben, and if it was over, it was over. She didn’t need anything else stirred up while her heart was already shattering and fragile. She didn’t even have the energy to broach the topic now.
“Yes, God bless them. I’ve known Ben O’Callahan a long time. He is an extreme Master.” Savannah’s fingers followed the ice, the overlay of stripes and marks, two days’ worth of his Dominance. “But anger never plays a role in that part of his life. He does have an Irish temper, but it’s usually reserved for professional incompetence.”
“And when the Saints lose,” Dana added.
“He deserves to be horsewhipped, and we are not going to make excuses for him. But I am going to tell you this. In the time I’ve known him, he’s never lost control with a woman like this. Matt agreed.”
Marcie stilled. “You told him.” Of course she had. She’d been in the hot tub twenty minutes, so that explained where Savannah had gone. Cass had joined her at some point, so did that mean Lucas knew too? Oh hell, if Matt knew, they probably all did.
“I don’t want…this was between him and me.”
“No, dearest.” Savannah’s voice was firm. Dana’s hand had landed on her shoulder, anticipating Marcie trying to push up off the lounger. Rachel began a deep rub of her back designed to turn her into a limp noodle. As she struggled between alarm and the need to purr, Savannah continued.
“Women can fight their own battles, but thanks to Matt, I’ve learned true strength includes the ability to seek backup when needed. You took this on all by yourself. You brought the fight to Ben, did all sorts of dangerous things to draw him out. You knew enough about him to know what would work, but you had no idea how it would play out. That’s the foolish courage of youth.”
Marcie couldn’t bristle over the simple truth. Not when Savannah’s voice was kind, not patronizing. “You needed that type of courage, the belief that you could handle whatever kind of bull charged out onto that field. Because at a certain point, instead of the matador, you became the red cape.”
That ache came to the surface again. “So I screwed up.”
“Not necessarily.” Savannah resumed her glide with the ice. Marcie bit her lip as she followed the curve of her buttock and touched down on her leg. Several more drops ran down her inner thigh, making her twitch. “I’ve no idea what the outcome will be, but set aside emotions. Focus on what you know of Ben, all that wonderful research I’m sure you did. Based on that, what is the most significant thing I’ve said to you?”
Marcie opened her eyes, glanced down the length of her body at the woman who met her gaze with piercing intelligence. Her mind was like a spaghetti soup, but when a successful Fortune-500 female CEO told her to review the details and come up with an answer, she dove into the tangle.
“In the time you’ve known him, he’s never lost control with a woman like this.”
“Good.” Savannah nodded her approval. “By the way, when you start seeking permanent employment, I’ll pay you twenty percent more than Pickard or K&A. Plus give you a corner office and your own assistant.”
Marcie blinked. Wow. That certainly bolstered her, but her mind was turning over the statement. She wanted to believe, but… “He could have lost it because he sees me as a little kid. The big-brother protective thing.”
Rachel snorted. She passed a hand over Marcie’s buttock, offering a light scrape with her nails that made Marcie jump, not in an unpleasant way. The physical therapist’s quiet chuckle had a sensual note to it. “No, Marcie. He most definitely doesn’t see you as a child. No matter how much he’s telling himself he does.”
On the back of Rachel’s collar, next to the locking mechanism, Marcie knew there was a Sanskrit word. Owned. To wear something like that
