Page 174 of Jensen
“I reckon so,” I say.
“Reckon that comes from you,” he says, taking the bottle out of hot water and wiping it on his shirt.
“I think you did some contributing.”
“A few minutes of it, yeah.”
I laugh and shake my head. Landis walks in, talking to Jensen. He wants to hold Delia and help feed her. Jensen says that’s alright, but he’s got to wash all the grease off his hands first. Their conversation dulls to a comforting background sound as I make dinner.
Sometimes, I have moments like this, when I’m fully aware, out of nowhere, that I got everything I want. I don’t have words to describe it, so I just smile and try to soak it all in.
After dinner, I nurse Delia to sleep. Then, I slip downstairs to find Jensen on the porch again, watching the sun make its way down behind the great shadow of Sovereign Mountain.
He holds out his arm, and I sit, leaning into his side. His fingers stroke through my hair, playing absently with it. We don’t speak.Jensen and I can go at it like cats and dogs, bantering until the cows come home, but at the end of the day, when my heart is full, we don’t have to say anything at all to be understood. We’ve always been two halves of each other.
That was all I really wanted in the end.
To be loved, to be known.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
JENSEN
It’s evening. The kids are asleep. All the doors are locked, including our bedroom. I’m in the chair by the window. She’s on her knees on the bare floorboards. Her beautiful hair is pulled high, tumbling down to her waist. Her eyes are wrapped in white cloth and her arms are bound behind her back.
Her nipples are hard, pinched red beneath silver clamps. A thin silver strand connects them to the clip on her clit.
She hurts, but she’s such a good girl. Despite the unforgiving grains of rice pressing into her knees and shins, she hasn’t moved.
I glance up at the clock hanging over the bed. The face of it is plain white. It’s been ten minutes—that’s long enough. I don’t want her getting fatigued.
Slowly, I move to crouch before her. Her lip quivers. She senses my closeness, but she keeps still. I’m so hard from denial, from looking at her naked and tortured.
I dip my fingers between her legs, playing with the clip before sliding them to her cunt.
Soaked.
Her gasp sends a shiver down my spine as I trace her sex. That turns into a whimper when I slip two fingers inside and find the softridge of the spot that drives her wild. Starting slow, I tap and rub with growing intensity. Her teeth dig at her lower lip. Gently, I stroke, easing down. Her thighs are tight, forcing her shins harder into the rice, getting her so wet, it drips down my knuckles.
“You want to come for me, baby?” I murmur.
“Yes,” she gasps. “Please.”
“Don’t move.”
She nods, sinking back onto her heels as I pull my fingers out and stand. From the end of the bed, I grab a cloth acupressure mat about the size of my upper back. It’s perfect for when I want to lay it out and have her kneel on the little spikes all over the inside, but it also fits between her legs for when I want to use it.
I unfurl it, sliding it between her knees. Then, I pull her blindfold off. Big, dark eyes flutter open and fix on me, hazy with desire. I start unbuttoning my shirt.
“God,” she moans.
I let it drop on the chair behind me. “What?”
She shakes her head. I turn and lay myself down on my back, spikes digging into the skin over my shoulders. Pain sets everything on edge and lights up all my nerve endings. My cock throbs, tight behind my zipper. Delirious for her, I press my head between her thighs, forcing her to back to kneel over my face.
“You just…you’re so pretty,” she breathes.
When she says that, I know what she means now.
