Page 16 of Lesson In Faith

Tamsyn grimaced, flinching as Linnie threw her hands up in the air and stormed out, muttering very uncomplimentary things about hardheaded, cocky Doms and their egos.

“You’re doing very well, little owl.” Green eyes radiant with pride, Merrick ran the backs of his fingers over her cheek. “Gonna reiterate your options here, okay? I can put the catheter in, which takes a couple minutes. Doesn’t feel good, but it means you don’t have to worry about making it to the bathroom in time. Or we can forget about it, and I can ferry you back and forth whenever you get the urge. It’s your choice, darlin’.”

Her bottom lip poked out.

“That’s not an answer. Cute, but not an answer.”

Did she really want him to carry her to the toilet? That was humiliating on so many levels. He’d know what she was doing, and God forbid she needed help. The idea of him having to… she shuddered. No, just no. She was accustomed to a lack of privacy, but even in the community, bathroom time was personal.

Exhaling deeply, not thrilled with either option, Tamsyn jerked her head.

“I think that’s the right choice for now. We’ll get rid of it as soon as you’re back on your feet.” He ran his hand over her soft, clean hair and smiled, then patted her toy on the head with two fingers. “Give me two minutes to do this little thing, and then I’ll go see to lunch, yeah?” At her reluctant nod, he moved away a step, flipping the end of the duvet up to her waist, exposing her legs and pelvis. “Do you know what a safeword is?”

Skinny, bruised legs, she noted in disgust. Lots of small cuts and scrapes where her clothing hadn’t protected her during the fall, but at least the lacerations she’d needed stitching were in less boney areas.

She shook her head. If she had to guess, it was a word that guaranteed safety, but in her world, there was no such thing.

“It’s a word that controls a situation, so if you’re scared or nervous and want things to slow down or stop, you say it. For non-vocal people, we use finger snaps or squeaky toys, something that holds the same weight as the word.” He brushed a lock of hair away from her temple. “Would you like that option?”

Tamsyn nodded, meeting his eyes, trying to tell him she trusted him, but not quite enough to fool around between her legs without some backup. Not that words or finger snaps would stop a mature, adult male from doing what he wanted, but it was nice to have the illusion.

“Smart girl. Can you snap your fingers?”

Brow furrowed in concentration, she gave it a couple of tries, annoyed when her stupid fingers couldn’t perfect the snap. Huffing sharply down her nose, she finally managed to achieve it on the fifth or sixth attempt.

“Very good. Keep going until you can do it without fail.” Merrick collected the tray from the bedside table, setting it between her legs. “I doubt you remember Linnie putting it in the first time around. I’m going to be quick, but I won’t hurt you. If there’s any discomfort or pain, you snap your fingers immediately.”

She wasn’t going to argue with him.

Plucking a pair of gloves from it, he snapped them on, then rested his hand on her upper thigh. “Can you bend your knees for me, darlin’? Bend them and let them fall open. That’s a good girl,” he said easily when she obeyed without thinking. “This won’t take long at all.”

When he reached for something on the tray, Tamsyn squeezed her eyes shut and hugged her owl tightly with one arm. She flinched as latex skimmed over her most private place, her legs trembling.

“Relax, little owl. It’s not going to hurt.” Merrick’s touch was light, clinical.

He spread her lower lips wide with two fingers, then something dabbed the tiny orifice hidden between them. Her pulse jumped when a cold, round head probed her before pushing in.

She didn’t know she’d snapped her fingers until she heard the noise.

What surprised her most, however, was the fact he stopped.

Immediately.

As promised.

“Open your eyes,” he coaxed softly. “Damn, this would be a lot easier if I knew your name. I love calling you little owl, but names have power.”

Warily, she peeked at him through a crack in her eyelids. He waited patiently, his eyes on her face, a faint smile ghosting his mouth. At least he wasn’t angry; she tended to wilt like a hothouse flower in snow when faced with a volatile temper.

“You okay?” he asked. “Did the tube pinch?”

Heat crawled up her face. Sucking on her bottom lip, she gave him a subtle headshake. There wasn’t really an expression or hand gesture that explained she’d mistakenly given him a safeword that wasn’t really a word.

“A little nervous?” His smile grew, radiating sympathy. “That’s okay. Think you can hold on for another minute? I’m almost done.”

Teeth sinking into her lip, she sighed.

After the way the previous tube came out, she really didn’t want another one putting in. The lingering soreness down there was reawakening; she hated how it made her feel tender and raw.

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