Desolation Road (Torpedo Ink 4)

Scarlet stepped close to the bike, her hands framing his face. “What is it, honey? You suddenly looked so sad.”

He hadn’t thought to keep his emotions off his face. This was her moment and just like that he’d changed her mood. She was that tuned to him. He should be grateful for their close connection. It was growing all the time, but it also made it more difficult to keep anything from her. He had always thought he would be able to know her every thought, every worry. He hadn’t expected it to be a two-way path. She was becoming very adept at reading him. They’d promised each other the truth. In any case, she would hear a lie. Communication was necessary in a relationship like theirs. Sometimes, it was all they would have.

He turned his face so his lips slid along her palm, pressing a kiss into the center. “I was wishing I wasn’t quite so fucked up in my needs.”

She leaned into him, kissing his forehead and then straightening and stepping away from the bike. “Aren’t we both a little fucked up? If you’re talking about me being your little pussycat, I have to admit, I miss being her. I missed our privacy and our home. I hope you like the changes and what I’ve created for us.”

His heart kicked into overdrive at the casual way she announced that she missed being his little pussycat. He decided to take the chance and push it just a little. Swinging his leg over the bike, he stood up and held out his hand to her. “I’m happy to hear you miss being my kiska. That’s never going to go away. Demyan planted that need so deep in me that no matter what, along with the training of my childhood, it’s there for the rest of my life. In reality, I’ve not only accepted it, I enjoy it.”

She took his hand and let him draw her close, right under his shoulder as they walked up the stairs together to the front door. He would have to put his bike up later. Torpedo Ink rarely left the motorcycles out in the saltwater air for too long. The Harleys were protected every bit as much as they protected one another.

“I’ve continued to read about it from a kitten’s point of view,” Scarlet said. “And I watch videos. I pride myself on always being the best for you. You’re going to have the best pet ever.”

He punched in the new security code and stepped back to allow her to precede him so she wouldn’t notice that just her saying that could bring him to his knees. She could do that so easily with her honest, casual statements. She studied how to be a better kitten for him because she wanted to be the best pet possible. For him. How many women would do that for their man? He doubted if there were many. Most would think he was far too fucked up to bother with.

He walked into the entryway behind her and stopped abruptly. The living room had been completely renovated. The huge glass wall facing the ocean was still there, letting in the light from the waning sun and showcasing the creeping fog as it began to move faster toward them, spreading out like an eerie gray blanket. Where the fireplace had been was a floor-to-ceiling thick glass wall filled with bubbling water that looked like a perpetual waterfall, but obviously housed something behind it.

She took his hand and tugged. He went with her to see her lay her palm on the plate that was a golden inset into the glass. The bubbling wall slid to one side, revealing a large rectangular glass cubicle stretching out into the inner courtyard garden. All four of the walls contained those same bubbles inside the very thick glass, creating a sound barrier between the inside and the outside world.

The floor inside the spacious room was carpeted a thick soothing gray with thin black circles. A single chair was there, clearly designed for comfort, sitting beside a small table to set books and a drink. One wall could be opened to the outside and a screen could drop down to keep insects out, or a large screened window could be utilized for cooler air.

Beside the chair was a thick square cushion. The cushion matched the soothing colors of the carpet and was built for the long-term comfort of his pet to wait for him in silence, either curled up sleeping or head on his thigh so he could pet her or kneeling between his legs, sucking his cock. The front of the cushion simply proclaimed Yego kiska—His pussy.

He knew Scarlet had thought to ask Lana to help her as well. The chair, the table, the cushion. That had all come with Lana’s help. The room clearly was built for one reason only. His pleasure. His solace. Scarlet knew that he would always have demons and he needed places to escape to. She already knew he would need his kiska. He didn’t have to tell her. She had removed the fireplace, a trigger for his flashbacks, and given him the gift of this space to enter when he needed somewhere quiet to go.