Burn for You (Club Mephisto 2)

“Maybe you need to use more words.”

God, more words. The words he’d used thus far seemed to mess things up more than they helped. “When we talk, the right words never come out. She’s so afraid of me.”

Lorna was silent a moment. ?

?Maybe she has reason to be. Maybe she needs to come to terms with her fears before she comes into your arms. Maybe it’s best that way.”

Mephisto shook his head. “She’s not even thinking about my arms. Only how to escape them. Every time this Eliot guy calls her I feel like I’m losing her a little more. God, I’ve never felt so out of control in my life and I fucking hate it. It fucking sucks.”

Lorna made a soft sound and stood to cross behind him. She rubbed his shoulders and leaned down to give him a squeeze. “I know how hard it is for people like you and me to lose control, how confused it can make you feel. I would offer to beat you into lucidity again but I have a feeling you’d refuse. Or finally manage to top me, which I’d never live down. Just remember, she’s not doing this to hurt you. I really believe that. She needs time.”

“How much time?” His voice sounded whiny, like a child. Maybe he did need a good beating from Lorna to get his head clear.

His friend looked up as a new customer walked in the door. She turned back to Mephisto. “Look, that’s up to her. You have to give her all the time she needs. But think about this. If it’s really so inevitable that you two come together...if you really burn for her as you say, and she feels the same about you, then it won’t go away. At some point, you’ll both have to give in to it. It’s just a time game now. Be patient.”

“Patient?” Mephisto made a very impatient sound. “Why can’t we just force them to do everything we want? Coerce them into fulfilling our heart’s desire?”

“Because, Master Mephisto, persuasion is a lot more interesting than coercion. A lot more legal too,” she added as she went to attend the new customer. “Now go find something to do besides moping around my shop.”

*** *** ***

Molly stared down at the marble headstone, the velvety green grass. The neat row of flowers she’d planted a couple weeks before still thrived in the late summer sun, and the wind rustled the leaves in nearby trees, creating a peaceful, susurrating sound.

She didn’t know why she’d wanted to bring Eliot here.

She supposed it was because they’d become so close. Acquaintance had become friendship, and friendship had steadily become something more. Courtship. He stood beside her now, quiet, but not freaked out. Eliot wasn’t the kind of guy who got freaked out. He was the kind of guy who would take the hand of a girl he liked and squeeze it while they both looked down at her late husband’s grave.

“He was lucky,” Eliot said. “Lucky to be so loved. There are so many disastrous marriages out there. So many people hurting each other, so much cruelty. You guys must have had something special.”

Without thought, Molly’s fingers went to her neck, tracing the ghost of a metal collar. “We did.”

“What was he like? I mean, was he funny? Serious? What did he like to do? Where did he work?”

Molly thought a moment. Where to begin to explain about her Master? Eliot obviously hadn’t recognized his name or his position as a Seattle business magnate, not that she worried any more about Eliot being the avaricious type. She’d assured Mephisto that Eliot’s sense of justice was too strong for him to take advantage of anyone, especially a new widow. Mephisto had grumbled that you never really knew anyone. Which was the truth.

“He, uh, worked in real estate,” Molly said. “And he wasn’t funny in a wacky way, no, but he had a great sense of humor. He was more the cultured, refined person, but kind. So kind.”

“Cultured and refined?” Eliot laughed. “Nothing like me then.”

“He was kind like you.”

He squeezed her hand harder. Eliot was one of the kindest men she’d ever met aside from Clayton. Maybe this was all part of some big plan, this kind, new man catching her eye at Mack’s Diner. If she was honest with herself, part of the reason she’d brought Eliot here was because she wanted Clayton to meet him in some cosmic way. Clayton would have approved of Eliot, she was sure of that. For all his silliness and flirtation, Eliot was a consummate gentleman. Even after two lunch meetings and four weeks of more serious dates, Eliot hadn’t done anything but kiss her. It was like he waited for some sign from her that it was okay to move forward.

Molly was ready to move forward now.

She wanted more than kisses. She wanted...more. I’ll always love you, Master. But what do you think of this guy?

There was no guidance, of course. She was on her own. She could ask Mephisto his opinion on Eliot, but that would involve the two of them meeting, and somehow Molly didn’t want to mix those worlds. She still hadn’t told Eliot where she lived, choosing to meet him instead “after work,” at some convenient location near Mephisto’s place. It was dishonest, but what choice did she have? What would Eliot think if he knew she lived in the back rooms of a fetish club? Before it got to that point, she’d move out, move back into Clayton’s place.

But when she thought of leaving Mephisto’s, she got a sick, nervous ache in her heart. Mephisto was still her safety net, her anchor. I haven’t been with anyone.

“Well,” Molly said. “Thanks for coming here. So what now? Do you want to walk around downtown?”

“Sure. We’ll get some dinner and maybe... I don’t know. Wanna go to a club? Dancing?”

“Maybe,” Molly hedged. “Or maybe we could just go to your place and watch a movie. Or something.”

Did that still work as a secret hook up code? It had been so long since Molly dated normally, since she engineered make out sessions and sleepovers. Would she sleep with Eliot? Was she ready? Hell, yes. She believed she was, and if the look on his face was any indication, he got her message loud and clear.

“Yeah, that sounds fun. I’ve got a thousand DVDs. Too many. I’m sure we could find something cool to watch. Curl up on the couch together and all that.”

Oh, they were going to curl up all right. Molly felt a sudden urgent need for sex, for carnal, deep connection, and there was no fear. Just desire, and want. Safety in the arms of this wonderful, generous man. All through dinner she ached for him and craved his touch. She pictured him naked while they chatted over tapas and margaritas. By the time they got to his place, Molly was almost too wrought up to take in the surroundings, although they were very nice. Comfortable furniture, modern, organized layout. He would make a great lawyer, she decided. Detail oriented.

And yes, he had a huge DVD collection. Molly couldn’t glean much from his library except that his tastes were eclectic and unpredictable. Choosing a film to watch was an exercise in negotiation. He wisely pushed romantic comedies, so Molly chose one she’d seen ages ago, a flick so iconic—and formulaic—she wouldn’t really have to watch.

They sat on his couch, too full for popcorn, and sipped at glasses of wine. Molly took tiny swigs, letting the flavor sit on her tongue, and she waited. She didn’t want to be too drunk when he finally made a move, and he seemed to feel the same way, because he didn’t wait long. He started with light caresses in her hair. Oh God, the hair. He knew what he was doing. Thank you, God. She melted closer to him, laying a hand on his thigh. Casual, like she was just relaxing against him, but she felt his whole body tense in reaction, just for a moment. Then the deep breath.

They’d kissed before now, leisurely sweet kisses that reassured her and put her at ease. They kissed again like that, just for a bit, as he stroked and petted her hair, but then the kiss turned into something a little more serious. She tasted wine and passion, and the leashed sexuality that lurked beneath Eliot’s polite exterior. Yes, yes. Come out and play. I want it.

He cupped her head in his hands, and his fingers tightened on her nape as he drew her closer. A small sigh of relief escaped. Relief that this was happening and it was really okay, and there was nothing wrong with her after all. She was just a normal girl with a hot, fun, wonderful guy making out on the couch while a stupid movie played in the background.

“Ah, you feel so good, Molly.”

Eliot slid a hand down her arm, then across her chest to fondle one of her breasts. She leaned in

to his touch, wanting something more insistent, but he was tentative. Polite. She gave a little moan of frustration. He must have interpreted it as encouragement because his arms tightened around her and then he was pushing her down, coming over her on the narrow sofa. He was a great kisser...exploring and responsive, and good about letting her come up for air before his lips latched over hers again. She had never been kissed by her Master like this. This was making out, and it was fun. They writhed against one another, chests and hips bumping, and then he pushed her leg to the side to settle between her thighs.

Molly arched, feeling the hard bulk of his cock between them, straining against his jeans. She reached for his waistband, popped the button. She whispered something. Maybe his name, maybe pleas for more, for him to touch her. She didn’t know, only that she didn’t want him to stop kissing her and pressing her down.

His hand came to her wrist. “Wait. Maybe we should move to the bedroom.”

Molly made some equivocal noise, like “guh” or “unh,” and let him help her up off the sofa. He took her hand and pulled her close and kissed her again, so gently, so sweetly, his fingertips beneath her chin. He walked her back toward his bedroom, staring over at her like he couldn’t believe his luck. Ha. The way he kissed, she was his, full on.

His bedroom looked very much like the rest of his house. Organized, simply furnished, and comfortable. The bed had lots of pillows and a mod print comforter. Molly could imagine them lying there talking to one another, lazing away a Saturday afternoon or a Sunday morning. She turned to Eliot, waiting for him to take her, to sweep her off her feet, but all she got was a shy smile and more wonder-gazing.

“God, Molly.” He reached out to cup her chin again. More kissing. Yeah, she liked the kissing...but she needed more. She pressed against him like a cat, wanting him to grab her, squeeze her. Overcome her.

“Come on,” he said with a smile.