Choosing Rena (18 page)

Rena would’ve laughed at the comical
look on her sister’s face, but she did the wise thing and kept her
mouth shut as Eddie dragged her protesting sister out of the
room.

“Hello, Rena, I’m Dr. Tiernen, the
E.R. doctor on call tonight. So why don’t you tell me what
happened.”

Jackson stood at her side as she once
again reiterated what had happened earlier. He made soothing noises
in his throat as he examined the wound once more. “Okay, you’re
definitely going to need some stitches here. Give me a second while
I prep everything.” Dr. Tiernen moved away checking his
supplies.

“Are you going to be
okay,
ma peekôn?”
Jackson asked softly, pulling her attention away from the
doctor. “It seems like your brother-in-law wasn’t happy about my
presence.” He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Rena nodded, suddenly tired and just
wanting this whole situation over. “Ignore him. Eddie’s harmless.
He was my supervisor at Star in New York. Since he married my
sister and moved to Chicago, he’s tried to be my protector,
regardless of how many times I’ve tried to explain I can take care
of myself.”

“We’re ready to start, Rena.” The
doctor moved in front of her, tipping her head down. Jackson moved
behind her, and a shiver shook her as he began rubbing his thumbs
in small circles, each brush rubbing over her collarbone,
distracting her as the doctor began to stitch her up. The doctor
‘tsked’ a bit under his breath before reaching for his
scissors.

“I’m sorry, Rena, but I’m going to
have to cut a bit of your hair away, so I can cleanly stitch
this.”

“Okay.” She covered Jackson’s hand
with hers. “It’s just hair. It’ll grow back.” The sudden burn of
tears against the back of her eyes made her blink rapidly. A few
snips later, several of her braids fell onto the table next to her
but instead of loss she had a lethargic feeling. She’d worn her
hair in braids for nearly two years at Louis’s request. Right now
more than anything she wanted to beg the doctor to cut them all
off, to cut the last visible tie she had to Louis.

The only thing stopping her was
Jackson. A huge part of her, the submissive part, wanted his
approval before she did something as drastic as cutting her hair. A
low moan passed her lips as she felt torn between what the
independent woman expected in regards to her self-image and what
the submissive was begging for.

“Shh, it’ll be okay, Rena.” Jackson’s
words of encouragement soothed her and she relaxed back against him
as the doctor continued to work on her.

Chapter
Seventeen

The fingers of sunlight were just
crossing the floor in Rena’s bedroom as Jackson watched the woman
he wanted to claim as his snuggle deeper into her pillow from his
position behind her. Along the length of his body he could feel the
heat emanating from her, and wanted nothing more than to pull her
under him. During the night, her gown had ridden up, resulting in
her luscious ass pressed tight against his cock. To push his dirty
thoughts from his mind, he tried to concentrate on what had
happened last night. It’d been rough, standing behind Rena at the
hospital as the doctor had stitched up her head, but he wouldn’t
have changed it for the world because it had shown him a side of
Rena MacAllister he was sure very few had ever seen. The idea she’d
allowed him to see her vulnerable side had made him rock hard
despite the beating his conscience had given him.

Lifting a piece of her
loose hair, he brought it to his nose, smelling the unique scent of
Rena and the peaches and cream shampoo she’d used late last night.
The memory of freeing her hair from the long braids would be one of
his favored memories, he thought as he rubbed the slightly coarse
hair against his cheek. He’d freed each braid from their elastics
with a small pocket knife, taken the wide tooth comb and slowly
untangled them until her hair trailed over her shoulders in kinky
waves. By the time he’d freed the last one, she’d been leaning
heavily against him in exhaustion, and he’d had to help her into
the shower.
Which took all my considerable
control to not join her in.
Once she’d come
back out, he’d dressed her tempting body in a nightgown he’d found
in her top dresser drawer before tucking her into bed. Then looped
up on painkillers, she pleaded with him to stay. Unable to resist
her plea, he crawled in with her against his better
judgment.

And this is how I got into
this mess with a warm armful of woman who I haven’t even fucked yet
and a dick hard enough to pound nails.
Releasing her hair, he dropped back onto the pillow, wanting
to groan when her tantalizing scent clung to the fabric under his
head. Closing his gritty eyes, he wondered if he’d be able to get a
few hours of shut-eye before they had to get up. He tossed his arm
over his eyes and was just drifting off when…

BEEP-BEEP-BEEP

Jerking upright, he rolled
over to reach across Rena’s tempting body and slapped at the
offending alarm on the bedside table, hoping against all that was
sacred it hadn’t woken Rena. Today was Saturday and neither of them
had to work until Monday. He cursed when he knocked the alarm off
the stand and it fell to the floor, breaking into several pieces.
The discordant sound as the clock gave up its last breath had him
glancing down at Rena’s face as he held his weight off her with one
arm.
Please let her still be asleep. I
don’t want to be kicked out of her bed yet.
Dark amber eyes stared up at him sleepily, tempting him
unbearably.
Fuck…

She rolled her head to glance at the
broken alarm on the floor. “Hmmm, make a habit out of trashing
alarms, White Boy?”

Pushing away from her, he
settled back against the pillows with a sigh. “You should’ve told
me you’d set your alarm,
ma peekôn.
Only you’d think getting up at five-thirty in the
morning on a Saturday is normal.”

She yawned. “I forgot to shut it off.”
As she rolled towards him, he wanted to groan. She was soft and
warm as she snuggled up against his side, pushing all of his
buttons in the process. It was all he could do to not lift her up
until she was straddling his face or better yet his cock. The same
cock that was making a tent out of the sheet draped over his waist.
The thin covering, her nightgown and his self-control were all that
was between him doing what he wanted. Then when she wiggled against
his side once more, he acted without thought, slapping the outside
of her leg. “Stop it, you little tease.” His voice sounded like
gravel, so intense was his need.

“Stop what?” Her voice was muffled as
her breath teased his sternum. He nearly jumped out of his skin
when her hand drifted down his stomach. He growled, capturing her
wrist, halting her progress before she could reach under the sheet
covering him.

“Sir?” The question in her
voice was evident. He knew she didn’t understand but until they had
discussed her limits, he didn’t trust himself to be intimate with
her. He
had
to
know the boundaries before he slid inside of her. His tastes and
desires were rough and after seeing the ass she’d submitted to
before, he’d die before he hurt her again, even
unintentionally.

“We can’t. Not until we’ve
talked, Rena.” He released her as she scrambled into a sitting
position next to him, her dark hair tumbling around her face as she
pouted. Her arms crossed over her breasts, framing the
straining
décolleté
 
of her gown until he was ready
to drool. The contrast of her dark creamy skin against the white
linen batiste gown unbearably tempted his inner Dom.

“You don’t want to…” Her eyes were
bright with need or tears. He couldn’t tell which for sure as her
chest rose and fell, distracting him.

He licked his suddenly dry lips. “I
didn’t say I don’t want you. I do. But we need to discuss your
limits before we continue.” He touched her arm before tugging her
close. Arranging her back where she had been, he stroked her hair.
“We were going to talk last night but that idiot…”

“You mean asshole.” She toyed with the
sparse hair on his chest. “I’ll make this simple for you, Sir. I’m
open to many things but there are a few I won’t ever agree
to.”

“Sharing is one of them, isn’t it?” He
kept his tone neutral.

He felt more than heard her sigh.
“Yes. I know many Doms love to share their subs, or even have
multiple subs themselves, but I don’t share well.”

“What about voyeurism? Would you allow
others to watch us? Or be agreeable to watching others?” His heart
thumped heavily as he waited for his answer. The idea of others
watching, of them seeing how lovely Rena was in her submission made
him hot. He could live without it, but wanted more than anything to
explore every avenue of pleasure with her.

Her hand stilled for a
moment before resuming the petting stroke across his chest. “You
mean like at
Olivia’s,
or someone’s private play party?”

He nodded, then remembered she
couldn’t see him and forced a rough “yes” past his tight
throat.

She tugged lightly on a few hairs over
his sternum before answering. “I think it’d be hot to have others
watch us, or to please you while you watch another couple,
Sir.”

“Good.” He croaked as her fingers
trailed towards his nipple. Capturing her hand, he scolded her.
“Bad little sub! Stop that! I can’t concentrate with your little
fingers toying with me. So tell me what other hard limits you
have.”

There was a long pause. “I don’t do
blood, golden showers, asphyxiation, or feathers.”

Intrigued by her answer he tilted her
chin up so he could see her expressive face. “I understand you not
wanting blades in bed, me pissing on you or even choking you, but
why on Earth would you have a limit about feathers?”

Her eyes darted away from him. “A
former Master liked to punish me with tickle torture when I was
bad. So now if I even see a feather, I dry up faster than a spring
shower in the Sahara Desert.”

“Hmmm, then I guess my feather duster
will have to go.” He nuzzled her head. “Anything else? Whips,
canes, hair brushes, hot wax or ice?”

He could see the heat build in her
face, her cheeks flushing. “I…I’m open to them.”

He raised an eyebrow. “All of
them?”

She nibbled on her lower lip and he
wondered if he’d misjudged her and she’d need more than he could
give.

“I had a Master ask once if I’m a true
pain slut.” Her eyes searched his. “I’m not, but I do enjoy all of
them if done in moderation.”

Elation filled him. Her needs lined up
nicely with his. He loved experimenting but didn’t have it in him
to seriously harm her. “Good because if you wanted me to beat you,
we’d have a serious problem.”

She giggled before tweaking him. “Yes,
we would because as soon as I healed, I’d come after your ass, and
it wouldn’t be pretty.”

He chuckled before rolling her under
him. She gave a soft squeal as he settled on top of her, pinning
her arms above her head. Using his hands, he wrapped hers around
the spindles of the headboard. “Keep them there.”

Her breath caught as she went limp
beneath him, her body pliant. “Sir?”

“What’s your safeword?” He knew the
ritualistic question would tell her he wanted to scene; now he
waited with baited breath.

“Affero.”
It came out breathlessly along with a shy
smile.

“Good, I expect you to use
it if I push too hard.” Then he gave her a wicked smile. “We’re
going to explore a little more of your limits, and you’ll have to
tell me when I go too far.” He grasped the neckline of her gown and
jerked hard, relishing the sound of ripping fabric. Instead of
protesting as he’d expected, she moaned softly. It seemed his
little
peekôn
liked the rougher stuff too. Taking a moment, he glanced down
at the flesh he’d bared. A low grumble built in his chest as he
took in the dark globes perched on top of her chest. Neither small
nor large, they were perfect with their blackberry tips.

When they tightened under his stare,
he wondered if she’d allow him to use clamps on them. Rolling them
between his thumbs and forefingers, he watched as her head tipped
back and a soft moan spilled from her parted lips. He squeezed a
bit harder, judging her reaction to the increased pressure. “I want
to see clamps hanging from these little beauties. Have you ever had
weights hung from them?”

“Hmmm.” She sounded
distracted.

Which isn’t going to fly.
She’ll answer me. There’ll be no nonsensical replies between
us.
Leaning in, he lapped at one nipple
before capturing it with his mouth, alternating between nipping and
sucking at the peak. Wordless pleas began to spill from her lips,
but he ignored them, in turn deciding that the other breast needed
the same treatment. By the time he’d coaxed the other bud into
stiffness then released it with a pop, he managed to lean up on his
elbows to gauge her response. Her lips were parted and her eyes
glassy from pleasure as her arms trembled from the tight grip she
had on the headboard.