Escalation Clause (20 page)

“Shh…,” he dropped down beside her, still wearing his dress pants, holding his tie in one hand. She shook her head, unaware she’d even said anything. “No talking, remember?” She sucked in a breath of him. Everything she loved, and missed like crazy. The Great Wall of Non-Communication had sprouted to huge proportions, as the space between them grew figuratively and literally. But now, he filled all her senses—the citrus bite of his cologne, the feel of his warm torso alongside her, the sweet sensation of his lips and teeth along the edge of her jaw and down. Her skin flushed. She opened her mouth, but a sharp sting hit her bare hip. She flinched and her thighs shook. “No. Talking.” He growled. “I mean it. I know how hard that is for you. You are going to stop and just let me have this. I’m going to fix it I swear to you.” She heard his firm tone, sensed his calm, and had a tiny, relieved moment of what if. What if she did let go again—would he, could he fix it? The need to do just that burned in her chest like fire.

The silky tie blindfolded her, but he kept kissing her, reassuring her during this small, crucial step. Sensory deprivation was the hardest thing for her and they didn’t try it often. “What if…” she whispered. “Jack, I can’t. I just can’t do this. I’m scared. I want….”

“No one is coming here. No will see us. I promise,” the soft leather tendrils of the flogger trailed up from her ankle, to her thigh, across her still panty-clad sex, tickled her stomach, then her breasts and neck. “Mmm hmm…,” he sighed into her neck again. “Sara,” he whispered, the sound of her name crossing his lips making her even more ready for him. He teased her nipples, bringing them to harder peaks, forcing her back to arch up and her knees to bend loving the sensation of her high heels digging into the bed cover. “You never have to be afraid, not with me. I’m here for you. You have to learn to trust that.”

And then he was gone. She shook her head, hoping to get the blindfold to shift down. It didn’t move. After what felt like an hour, he grabbed her foot, licking his way up her leg starting at her ankle. Keeping one leg straight and tight against his torso, he reached down to rip her panties into two pieces and flick at her clit, making her groan. Before she could press against him, find the release she desperately needed, he stopped, grabbed her other foot, and brought it up against him, licking his way down it until his face was hovering over her sex, both her legs draped over his shoulders.

He dug his fingers into her hips, yanked her up and used his lips and tongue to tease, cajole and generally make her insane with need, but never quite finishing the job. It was his usual method, but somehow this time it felt different. Less like play and more like something crucial, vital to their relationship. She sensed the fogginess return, the dreamy, wooziness that signaled her own descent into total submission. She held it off, still fighting the terror that came with that thought. He knew how to manipulate her inside and out. And something in her needed to resist it. Not like she used to—because she was afraid of him—but because she required more from him, more connection than physical. There was just too much at stake between them now to …. “Oh, God,” she moaned when he started flicking the leather tendrils of the flogger against her feet, ankles, thighs and then finally her sex. She groaned and arched up. “I’m gonna…I can’t….” She exhaled, sensing the climax building in her core and wanting it, needing it so badly tears slipped from underneath the tie wrapped around her eyes.

“No.” He barked out, startling her and disappearing again. His words, spoken from what sounded like miles away, echoed through her psyche. “Withholding sex doesn’t work Sara. For either of us. Don’t do it again.” He grabbed her arms and pinned them over her head, securing them with the familiar sensation of soft, cotton rope.

Sweat dripped between her breasts, down her back and temples. Her wrists fought the restraints. A small kernel of fear bloomed in her chest. Her teeth chattered even in the overheated room as her knees shook and tears kept building behind her eyes. He stayed gone just long enough to make her open her dry, cracked lips and call out for him.

The blessed relief of ice hit her neck, moved up to her jaw and finally to her mouth. He rubbed the cube across both lips, let her bite into it and swallow the glorious cool morsel. He stroked her neck, but kept silent. Then shifted on the bed, leaning over to suck one of her nipples, using the ice cube in his mouth to make her squeal with surprise. He pinched the other one, hard, bringing the orgasm that had retreated during his absence roaring back.

An ice cube hit her clit as he slid one finger deep inside her. The combination of pain and pleasure felt like the ideal analogy for her entire life with this man. The push and pull of him, the extreme love and harsh frustration she felt about him made her shiver again. He bit down on her nipple, reached her g-spot at the same time. She cried out, tilted her hips up needing him to stroke there, just there, like only he could but…he retreated again taking the ice, lips, teeth and fingers with him.

“Sara,” he exhaled, his voice rough and full of need. She knew it when she heard it. He must be standing nearby. She could hear him but couldn’t get a good sense of his position in the room. She tried to say something but words caught in her throat. Thirsty, she was so thirsty. Within seconds, he had a bottle of something pressed to her lips. She choked and sputtered, but let the liquid soothe her, listening to his whispered words, latching on to them like a lifejacket. “I’m here for you baby. Always. Let me be…more. Remember? You know how. You’ve done it before.”

She turned her head, suddenly terrified, at the thought that he’d read her, figured out how tightly she was gripping what little control she still had. Her heart pounded so loud it deafened the space between her ears. She gulped for air. “Sara,” he commanded, turning her face back to his and kissing her, cradling her face between his hands. His tongue tasted of the bourbon he’d just given her. She could smell and taste him, knew he was on the ragged edge of orgasm himself. His body pressed into hers, his hands roamed all over her, teasing, stroking, penetrating then stopping but never letting her lips leave his. Then he stopped but stayed with her, holding her close, his breathing harsh in her ear. “Let go,” he whispered once more. “Now. Let me have it. I can take it. God damn it woman, let go.” His low voice growled, and she clung to his words, hoping he was right.

She shook uncontrollably, scaring herself. Her heart stuttered, then sped up, making her breathless. She would not do this. Not until he opened up to her, quit using his admitted talents with her body to manipulate her into submission. But he held on, stroking her hair, her back, her ass. Just when a full-blown panic attack took her, he tugged off the blindfold, released the ropes and pulled her onto his lap.

 She sobbed, unable to stop or catch a breath between the agonizing chest-heaving spasms. Her life was over. Her brother would never come back. And her husband was…he…he held her, kept whispering in her ear, rocking her back and forth like a baby. Finally the waterworks ended but she clung to him, never more grateful for his strong arms around her. “That’s it,” he whispered, brushing her damp hair back from her face. “Now.” He said simply, smiling at her, the genuine happiness in his eyes making her grin in spite of her continued frustration. “I need to be inside you Sara, so badly. Please don’t play this bullshit game again.”

 She nodded, stood and pulled him up with her. He stared at her as he picked her up and walked her to the wall, pulling her legs up and around his waist. Lust replaced everything, all her worries, anger and fear. She needed him inside her as much as he needed to be there. The connection that had to be made—must be, otherwise her life would truly end.

“Please,” she groaned, as he bent his knees, propped his hands against the wall over her head and shattered her world with a familiar, long deep stroke. “Jack,” She cried out, angling her hips, needing him as deep as possible. Using his strong leg muscles he kept her propped and thrust hard, shoving her up the wall. She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Harder, God damn it.” She growled biting his earlobe.

His face reddened, and he leaned down to her lips, kissing her just as the elusive hovering climax burst across her brain. “Ah yes!” She yelled into the dark room, the smell and feel of him all around her, his sweat slicking her flesh. He yanked her up and walked them to the bed, easing her down and keeping his cock inside her and his pubic bone pressed to her clit as she pulsed all around him.

He propped his hands on either side of her. “Sara, look at me.”

She did, tilting her hips at the same time, and pulling him down. “Kiss me while you come, Jack. You know you want to.” He shoved his tongue into her mouth as his hips moved faster. She wrapped her legs around him, holding him tight as he shuddered, and released.

Her face felt tight, her eyes burned from all the tears but she held on. She knew he liked to stay connected, loved to feel her breathing calm along with his, as their bodies maintained their intimacy. When he slid out of her and fell down onto the bed she fought a wave of panic, wondering if what they’d done had helped or only delayed the inevitable. She snuggled into him, wishing they were home in their bed so she could sleep, then wake and tell him why she was so scared. Why the thought of facing life without Blake in it made her want to leap out of her skin. And to ask why he hadn’t figured that out already. He knew her so well—it was odd that she had to explain such a seemingly elemental issue to him.

“You sure know how to make a man work for it, don’t you,” he muttered into her hair, his chest still heaving from exertion. She propped herself up on an elbow.

“Honey, I still need to know something.” She touched his face. He took her hand, kissed it and pressed it to his chest. “Why are you, I mean, why have you been so distant? What did I do?” She bit her lip, almost ready to kiss him and forget conversation, but knowing that was not the right move at the moment.

He looked up at the ceiling. “I’m not sure. But I know that your little dance around the reality of the situation, about Blake being gone was making me nuts. And I felt, I don’t know, helpless? And with the baby, I’m…,” he stared at her. “I’m a little intimidated by him. I had such a shit for a dad, you know.”

She nodded, more ecstatic that he was talking to her than about the mind-blowing sex they’d just had. Sex came easy for them. It always had. Trusting to connect deeper was their challenge. “But I want you to know I’m here. I swear it. I’m, just, I need you to need more I guess. You know. I’m weird that way. And you…,” he touched her nose and she smelled herself on his finger. The sound of a car door slamming made them jump up, scrabble around for their clothes. Jack tossed the ropes, blindfold and flogger into his briefcase. She barely held back a giggle at the sight of him jumping around putting his shoes back on as she buttoned her suit jacket over her bra since her blouse was now only two strips of silk.

“Hey,” she whispered. “Come here.”

He smiled, pressed her close. “What, sex goddess?”

“I’m gonna need more of this.” She cupped his cock, which was amazingly still at half-mast. “Like, soon.” And she meant that, in no uncertain terms. The raging sex addict he’d made of her was roaring in her brain, making her pissed, antsy and horny all at once. But a small, annoying voice in the back of her barely sated brain was whispering, tickling her with a whole lot of “but you haven’t really talked” reminders.

“Hmm…,” he bit her earlobe, making her shiver. “You know I have to leave tomorrow, right? Back down to Florida. The final meeting with the soccer league.”

She stepped back and frowned at him, but forced herself to stop, to smile and be supportive. “I forgot. Didn’t you just get home?” She whispered as they strolled out to the kitchen and greeted the crew that had shown up to prep for tomorrow’s installation of counters, tile and appliances.

He cupped her ass when the foreman looked away. She bit back the commentary about him swooping in and out again with this soccer bullshit. They’d talk again, pick up the conversation where they left off tonight.

But the house was in uproar when they got home. By the time Jack got Katie calmed down, after finding her little brother and his new partner in crime using markers all over her bedspread, carpet and themselves, he’d collapsed on the couch with a beer. Sara sorted out from the nanny that Rob had come by, and he and Lila had gotten in a huge fight outside the door, upsetting Gabe nearly to the point of no return. Lila had left without telling anyone where she was going.

Jack called Rob to see if he knew where she might be, just as Evan and Julie showed up with their twins, making Sara groan with consternation. She’d forgotten this was the boys’ regular poker night. She and Julie took the kids in the back yard, and scrubbed as much of the permanent marker off the squirmy little boys as possible. Once the chaos died down and all the kids were asleep either in their own beds or in portable cribs, she barely remembered it when Lila finally returned, whispering her apologies.

Jack picked her up and carried her to their to bed where they both passed out in each other’s arms, waking with a start at the four a.m. Brandis-shaped alarm that signaled yet another day. Another day in her life where she tried to work, tried to be a good mother and daughter and friend and wife…but no longer a sister.

She watched Jack pack, smiled when he kissed her. But no more words were said about his distance, or her need for him. And that brought all the terror and panic back, which forced her to shut down once again, clutching the control she maintained just to get through the days.

Chapter Fourteen