They stared at each other up close and Olly watched it happen for her as it happened for him. The shadows clearing in her eyes, the backs becoming brighter because the shit was done and what they had to look forward to was not shadows.
It was light.
And when they were both there, Leigh felt it, tilted her head, and pressed her lips to his.
He opened his over hers and kissed her.
When he’d had enough (for now), he lifted a breath away and whispered, “Thank you for giving me that.”
“Thank you for giving me what you gave me,” she replied, also whispering.
Her words struck something that made him study her face and the look in her eyes even more closely.
Olly appreciated her gratitude but he also found it miraculous.
She had a lot to forgive.
He just had to hope he could explain it so she’d find it in herself to do that.
He’d explained it, she’d done that, but he got the sense she’d already done that days ago in the hospital.
And with what he’d done to them, it was too easy.
“I want you to get, for certain, baby,” he whispered fiercely, “that I mean all I’m sayin’.”
“I get that, Olly.”
“I love the mercy you’re showin’, but I fucked up, said shit, hurt you, caused damage and—”
She cut him off. “It seems you’ve gone to a lot of trouble to find ways to sort that, not only with me, but for your own sake.”
“I did. But what I’m tryin’ to say now is, I actually did. And since I did, I don’t want you livin’ in fear I’m gonna blow again,” Olly admitted.
She gave him a sweet smile and pressed closer. “Darling, with all you’ve explained, with the way you’ve always been to me, except for one lapse,” even smiling, her lips started twitching, “you’ve also always been open with me. So if you promise you’ll do everything you can not to allow it to happen again, I believe you. And you’ve promised. So I believe you.”
“You’re making this very easy when I don’t deserve that, Leigh-Leigh,” he pointed out cautiously.
“And I made it very hard for my mother to find her way in through doors I’d closed against her in my heart,” she returned and Olly felt his breath suspend. “I took too long opening those doors. I loved her. I lost her before I allowed her back in. So I’ve learned the very hard way not to make that mistake again.”
Now that he got so he said no more.
Leigh didn’t either.
Olly kept the quiet going, then he finally gave it all to his Leigh.
“Okay, gorgeous, what we got is young but right here, right now, I want you to go into that risk we were talkin’ about, the one you’re takin’ on me, knowin’ right where I’m at. So you go in knowin’ I’m fallin’ in love with you and the way that feels, I don’t think that fall is gonna last very long.”
She stared at him, her pretty tawny eyes watery.
Then a tear slid out of her good eye.
He adjusted his hand so he could catch it with his thumb.
And he was still whispering when he said, “Shit, baby, no crying.”
She continued to stare into his eyes.
And fuck him, just like Leigh, she gave him back exactly what he needed.
“I think I may already have landed.”
And that …
Felt …
Phenomenal.
Olly wanted to be gentle but when he took her mouth after she gave him that, he couldn’t accomplish that feat.
She burrowed into him and totally didn’t seem to mind.
It was Leigh who pulled away and shared with obvious regret, “We should go to bed, and Olly, I’m afraid my ribs mean—”
“We’ll wait,” he assured her.
She nodded.
“Bed,” he said.
“Bed,” she agreed.
With that, Olly angled up, carefully lifting her in his arms when he did it.
He then carried Leigh to bed.
He came back to turn out the lights, make sure the doors were locked, the windows secured, the fire banked, and the cats had enough water to get through until morning.
After he was assured all was set, he returned to his Leigh.
epilogue
The Tangle That Was Them
AMÉLIE
Months later, Amélie drifted through the maze of playrooms at the Honey carrying her champagne glass, the drink inside mostly finished, noting it was a busy night.
She did not pause, not even to watch Trey taking a cat from Mira.
Amélie had no idea if Trey had done something for which to be punished. Mira and she spoke of a great deal, but they didn’t speak of those things. It was between Mirabelle and her boyfriend.
As was the same between Olivier and Amélie.
Amélie did know that things were still going strong between those two with no hint that wouldn’t keep coming. To this end, they were discussing moving in together and had only not done so because Trey wanted to keep his house, Mirabelle wanted to keep hers, and no compromise had yet been reached.
At their last book club, Romy had suggested they both sell and find something together that was not his or hers, but theirs.
When Mira shared this with Trey, he’d thought that was an excellent suggestion.
Mira, however, was digging in.
Amélie was all set to intervene when Olly stopped her.
“Trey’ll get his way,” he’d said.
She’d found this assertion dubious.
He’d grinned at her look, hooked her with an arm around her shoulders, pulling her so their chests were touching, and dropped his face close.
“Your girl will give her guy anything. Just keep your pretty nose to yourself and let it play out.”
She suspected he might be right (if Mirabelle felt anything like what Amélie felt for Olly and it was clear she did).
She also liked that Olly had called her nose pretty.
So Amélie was doing as he advised and would continue to do so until the time, as Olly would say, Mirabelle needed her head pulled out of her ass.
She smiled to herself, delighting in her thoughts as well as the news she’d just learned from Marisol while they lingered, sipping their cocktails in a booth, news that was drifting through the hunting ground.
This being Penn and Shane had finally become engaged.
Still smiling at this thought, her attention was taken with the scene to her left, and for some reason, when she turned her head, she stopped.
Stellan was in a room with a sub, the female sub positioned just as Amélie had once done to Olly, naked on her back with her body strapped to the table, but her ankles manacled and lifted straight and high, legs spread wide.
Stellan was standing between those legs, thrusting inside.
As if he felt her regard, his focus shifted from the sub in front of him to the window.
Right to Amélie.
The instant it did, she felt the inappropriate urge to lift her hand, touch the glass, communicate something, even though she had no idea of what that something would be.
As the months had passed since their discussion in the lounge, they had not moved back to what they had been. Stellan was avoiding her and she was giving him that because she sensed that was what he needed.
But in the interim, it felt like she’d lost a friend and that was never a pleasant feeling.
Before she could do anything at that present moment, however, Stellan dipped his chin, reached out, and pulled on the chain that was between the clamps tightened on his sub’s nipples. He pulled hard, Amélie could see, the sub’s nipples and breasts dragging down. He also moved his mouth in a command she instantly acquiesced to, for her neck arched and it was clear she was coming.
Stellan released the chain and bent over her then, his face in her neck, mouth close to her ear and Amélie wondered briefly if he was the kind of Master who whispered loving words to his sub after she’d performed well f
or him or if he was someone else.
She would never know, and although the loss of his friendship did, this in particular didn’t trouble her in the slightest.
She continued through the halls and again stopped, taken with a scene now to her right.
Mistress Sixx was back in town for an unknown period of time, brought there by her work.
And as she had the same kind of membership Amélie did, allowing her to visit any of Aryas’s clubs, she was also back at the Honey.
She was seated in a comfortable armchair, long legs crossed, a glass of wine in one hand held up and just to the side, elbow to the arm of the chair.
A male sub was standing in front of her, several light chains with weights on the end draped at intervals along his very hard cock, his arms raised, fingers linked behind his head.
Kneeling behind him was another male sub who had the cheeks of the standing toy’s ass spread open, his face buried there, eating.
It was clear the sub being eaten was challenged with keeping the chains on his dick. He seemed to be doing this quite well, even if it was taking so much effort, his entire body was covered in a sheen of sweat and his face was a vision of pleasure at what was happening at his ass, mixed with pain that was the fight to control the need to come.
Amélie also knew of this sub, though she’d never had him, regardless that he had a very nice physique and an exceptionally handsome face.
She further knew he was hetero only.
But even so, perfectly happy, it appeared, to have his ass eaten by another man if it got him in a playroom with Sixx.
As it always was, and with Sixx’s talents, as Amélie expected it always would be.
Sixx was not looking for what Amélie had with Olivier. She made that clear. She’d always be seeking variation and choice, as well as challenge.
And she’d find it.
Amélie watched and saw this performance was being taken in by Mistress Sixx, who looked happy enough watching it, but she also looked as if she might suddenly get bored and reach for a magazine.
And right before Amélie was going to continue on her way, it appeared Sixx did get bored for her mouth opened and instantly the man eating got to his feet and used his hard, already oiled cock to start fucking.
The chains with their weights swung precariously with the force of the thrusts the performing sub was taking up his ass.
And not surprisingly, under his Mistress’s regard, it didn’t take long for pre-cum to glisten the tip of his cock, his handsome face twisting to become even more handsome as it filled with need.
Suddenly, Amélie felt Sixx’s regard and she looked to her fellow Domme.
Amélie lifted her chin.
Sixx sent her the cat’s-getting-her-cream smile she was famous for before she looked back to her toys.
Amélie turned away and continued moving through the halls, now keen to get where she was going.
But when she heard voices raised, she was so surprised, before she could stop herself from doing it, she ducked behind a dark playroom and did something highly inappropriate.
With the darkened glass hiding her, she peeked around it and saw Aryas and Talia down the hall close to the door to the red room, clearly in a heated discussion.
“Keep your voice down,” Aryas growled, but even with his command, he did this loudly.
“Right. Fine. You want that, you got it,” Talia returned, but did so not actually giving it to him as her voice was also quite loud. Her beautiful face was also filled with ire. “And when you sort out your head and understand what you really want, you know where to find me, baby.”
With that, it looked like she was going to flounce away, and feeling ludicrous and inelegant, both feelings Amélie never felt and didn’t much like, she ducked back and turned swiftly, moving much more hurriedly to her and Olly’s room.
Although it was safe to say she was curious about what she’d just witnessed, Amélie moved resolutely focusing on what was ahead, not all she’d noted behind.
In that world, whatever happened was the business of who it was happening to, not Amélie’s.
But mostly, she had something delicious to turn her attention to.
So she put it out of her mind (even though, in doing so, she hoped Stellan came around and Talia and Aryas worked something out because she missed Stellan, and regardless of what she knew of them both, she sensed Talia was perfect for her handsome friend).
When she arrived at her destination she saw, as usual, her beast had an audience. Not many. The novelty of Olivier and Amélie had worn off.
This happened. Especially when the game had been well played and the players were enjoying the fruits of victory.
For Amélie and Olly, this meant he’d moved in a month previously.
In truth, they hadn’t been together very long.
But it was time. They fit. They worked splendidly in all ways that could be. When the explosion settled, it ended with Amélie and Olly tangled together magnificently.
And anyway, her house was closer to his work.
And the very first time he’d stepped foot in it, he’d only just glanced up to the glass art on her ceiling before he’d swung her in his arms, burst out laughing, and declared it, “So you, Leigh-Leigh.” Then he’d kissed her.
When he was done kissing her, he’d looked around while telling her loved it.
He hadn’t even moved out of the foyer.
Then again, from there you could see the living room with the view so he could easily see there was a lot to love.
Not to mention, he liked her cats.
Another grin played at her mouth as she opened the door and entered.
She stopped, leaning against the door she’d closed behind her and taking the last sip of her drink as she drew him in with all her senses.
He was strapped to a sawhorse that had a five-inch-wide padded beam on which to rest his considerable bulk. The straps that were attached to the horse and now binding Olivier were many. His arms stretched down the front legs of the beam, his legs the same at the back; there was one strap every few inches up his arms, along his shoulders, back, waist and hips and down his legs.
His bottom half was pointed toward the door, his buttocks strapped open, his tail seated up his ass, tipped high and obviously vibrating.
His balls and cock were both harnessed, the latter thick, swollen, and chained with some slack to the floor at a forward angle.
She moved to the table to her left, set her empty glass on it, and made her way to her steed.
She wisped a light touch along the indent of his ass cheek.
“Baby,” he growled.
Another smile while Amélie bent to him and touched her lips to the opposite cheek. She then ran her tongue along the outside of his ass strap.
His body gave a powerful buck, taking the horse with him.
“Fuck, baby.”
She kissed the small of his back and ran her fingers through his tail.
“Amélie,” he bit off.
It was time to take care of her sweet beast.
Pausing only to drag the nails of both hands hard down both the cheeks of his ass, she smiled at the fierce growl he emitted that ended in a groan, all this through another powerful buck, moving the horse at least half a foot; she walked to his front, pulling the remote out from where she’d tucked it in her bra.
She arrived at her destination and crouched down so they were face-to-face.
And there she saw it, that magnificent need.
She turned his tail to high.
His beautiful face saturated with pleasure.
“Come at will, my beast,” she whispered.
And she watched with great satisfaction as he did.
* * *
“Yes, God, don’t stop, Olly.”
Amélie was on her knees at the side of her couch in their living room, hands planted in the arm of the couch, her Olly’s big brute planted (mostly) up her ass.
He had one strong arm wrapped
around her chest to hold her steady, one arm slanted down, thumb at her clit, long finger buried in her pussy.
“Think I can stop, Leigh-Leigh, you’re fuckin’ crazy,” he grunted.
She almost smiled but he gave her more and her head snapped back.
“Good?” he ground out.
“Yes, baby,” she whispered.
“So fuckin’ hot,” he growled, gliding in and out, not hard but strong and deep. “Goddamned tight. Leigh, you’re gonna need to come for me.”
“More.”
“Christ, baby.”
“More, Olly. Please.”
He drove in.
And that was all she needed.
Her head dropped forward as her body shuddered its climax violently in his hold and he murmured, “My Leigh. Always so fuckin’ pretty.”
And her body trembled more at his words.
Through her orgasm, she took him up her ass and then she took his cum up her ass, his groans in her ear as his finger automatically fucked her pussy, those of his other hand finding, squeezing, and pulling hard on her nipple.
So, it wasn’t as intense, but Amélie came again, this time doing it with Olly.
Olly carefully pulled out almost before his own tremors ceased and she bit her lip as he removed his hand but slid his still-hard cock along the wet, sensitive area between her legs, the hand he had at her breast going to hold his own weight at the arm of the couch (though he pressed a good deal of it into her), the other one holding her tight to him under her breasts.
His forehead, though, he rested on her shoulder.
“Are you good, darling?” she asked.
“So warm and tight up there, baby. Beautiful. Fuckin’ love takin’ your ass.”
She loved it too.
“Mm,” she purred.
He turned his head and kissed her neck. “You’re starting to drip. Gotta clean you and let Cleo free.”
“Mm,” she purred again.
She felt him smile in her neck and then she felt him move away. But he moved her with him, up into his arms, taking her to the master bath off their bedroom.
He cleaned her up and himself. She pulled on a robe. He pulled on a pair of low-slung, soft-knit pajama bottoms she’d given to him for Christmas after she’d discovered all the ones he owned he’d had since college and they were falling apart.