The gray mist parted, letting in some of those unsettling feelings, but their words were giving her wounded heart stray shots of hope. If they were wrong, she’d be opening herself to being stabbed again, and she wasn’t sure if she was strong enough. Even now, remembering Ben’s anger at the limo, his contempt, his…
She didn’t want it to happen, but she’d pushed that part of tonight’s events furthest behind the gray mist for a reason. She hadn’t let it affect her in years, but in that moment, when he had her shoved against the limo, when she realized she couldn’t fight him off, and he wasn’t necessarily going to let her go, she’d remembered Allen, pushing her down on the floor, holding his forearm on her throat, not realizing she couldn’t breathe as he tore at her clothes…
When a man attacked a woman, she never forgot it. It was in her head, the violence in his hands, the meanness in his face… Ben had betrayed what she knew of him, and she’d trusted him. The way she’d trusted Jeremy. Her brother hadn’t pulled Allen off her. Cass had.
How could she trust Dr. Jekyll when she’d seen Mr. Hyde? She was shaking again. She’d told herself she wouldn’t let her mind go in this direction. She was a clear-headed person, one who didn’t let past baggage affect her present, but she was surrounded by women who knew what it was to be entirely vulnerable to the one they loved. It was a confessional she couldn’t resist.
“He was…I’ve never seen him like that. I wasn’t sure he wouldn’t hurt me…like for real hurt, hit me in the face. It was someone else, some dark, terrible thing inside of him. It was like he hated me at that moment. I was…I was scared of him. I hate that. I don’t want that.”
She shouldn’t be saying this. Cass was still in the room. But saying it out loud helped steady her, look at it with clearer eyes. Ben wasn’t a chronic abuser of women. She knew that. Something else had happened tonight. It was as Savannah had implied. She needed to step back, look at all of it, not to make excuses for him, but to get all the information, figure it out, before she made the decision that was best for her. Even if it was a decision that broke her heart.
“I think it’s time you and Matt talked,” Savannah said after a quiet moment. “This is in your hands, Marcie. But you have a family. We’ll help you.”
And him. It was an odd thought, but being surrounded by their love and support made her wonder where Ben was, if he was still walking around in the cold darkness of the city streets, alone.
“Keep in mind, whatever you decide, I’m still going to kill him,” Cass said. She put a small ice pack against Marcie’s lip.
“Me too,” Dana said. “As long as someone points me toward him. I’ll break his kneecap, then he can’t outrun me.”
Marcie smiled beneath the ice pack. “I’d like to see that.”
Peter’s wife dropped another kiss on her knuckles. “You got to him, Marcie. This is a tricky, difficult situation, but I’ll bet good money he doesn’t know what the hell to do with how he feels about you.”
That made two of them. Things had become more complicated and uncertain because of the evening’s events, and she wasn’t going to get it worked out in her head tonight. But that was what tomorrow was for, right?
“All right. Time to take care of some other things.” As if discerning her thoughts, Cass rose. “I’m going to go make you some chocolate chip cookies.”
“Nestle Tollhouse?”
“Is there any other kind? Hot out of the oven. I’ll be back.”
As Cass rose and moved to the kitchen, Savannah picked up another ice cube. Marcie had been listening for the tiny clicks of her manicured nails against the bowl, each time anticipating the first really cold touch of the frosted ice, then that combination warm-cold feeling as it melted against her skin, the beads of water working their way down, both agitating and soothing the welts. Savannah took this one on a different track. After she circled it over her buttocks, she pressed it between, a slow, slow glide into that crevice, over the rim, and then down, down, toward the aching center core.
Marcie’s fingers tightened on Dana’s, her thighs trembling, wanting to loosen. “What…”
“It’s all right.” This from Rachel, whose hands were still working their magic. “Just feel, Marcie. Enjoy. Do whatever your body wants you to do.”
“But…” Her Master hadn’t given her permission to enjoy this. To experience this. Given the night’s events, though, it seemed a fair trade. She made a noise of sheer ecstasy as Rachel’s strong hands worked a particularly good spot.
“There we go. That works, doesn’t it? Roll with the feeling.”
“Spread your legs out, if that’s what you wish to do,” Savannah said.
Tentative, Marcie shifted. Dana made a warm sound of approval. The black woman had shifted to her knees by the lounger, and her kiss on Marcie’s palm this time became something more. She teased Marcie’s pulse with her tongue, followed the vein.
“Ah…” A soft sound escaped as a result of that stimulation, as well as what Savannah was doing. The ice moved between her legs, Savannah tracing her labia, letting the tip of the ice slide between and letting it go, where it would melt, the drops following the path of gravity to drip over her clit. Another click in that metal bowl and Marcie’s hips lifted to her, asking for more. She couldn’t help it. Was she really doing this?
Yes, she was. Her sister had left the room, knowing they could provide this, knowing what she needed.
“I think it’s time for you and me to change positions, Ice Princess.” Dana directed that at Savannah. “If you think you can roll you and the mighty Matt mite in this direction.”
“You are
