Masters at Arms (14 page)

“Oh, God! Ohhh, Marco, yesssss! Don’t
stop!”

He leaned over her, continuing to stroke her
clit even after her spasms had ended. She tried to move her pelvis
to evade his fingers on her oversensitive clit.

“Come again.”

“No, Marco. I can’t.”

“Twice you have addressed me as Marco without
using my proper title. You owe me two more orgasms.” They’d
negotiated orgasm torture before, but broke up before they’d tried
it. “I. Said. Come. Again.” He ground the words out against her
ear. With her body restrained under his, he stroked her clit
harder, faster. She couldn’t escape the pressure he applied. She
was trapped.

Just as he was.

Trapped.

“Oh, my God! I’m coming! Oh, shit!” She
bucked wildly against him, clenching his cock as another orgasm
wracked her body, this one seeming to be more intense than the
last. He’d been taught never to promise a sub something and not
deliver, but delaying his own orgasm was hell.

He let her breathing slow a bit, then touched
her clit again.

“Oh, God, don’t! Please, Mar…Master.
Enough!”

His fingers stilled. “Do you wish to say your
safe word?”

She paused, gasping for breath, then shook
her head. He pulled her hair away from her face so he could judge
whether she could take another one. He began stroking her clit
again. Her cheeks were wet from tears, but her mouth panted as she
let the sensations build again. Her mewling sounds told him she
wasn’t in pain. Not that pain was necessarily a bad thing in
Melissa’s book of needs.

He stroked her harder. Her screams became
incoherent as she bucked against him.

“Open your eyes.”

She did as he ordered. He pinched her clit
again, then stood up and rammed her with his cock.

“Oh, shit! Oh, Master, please! No more!”

Again and again, he thrust himself inside
her, demanding more than he ever had before. He took perverse
pleasure in making something so desired feel like a punishment. Not
unlike his feeling of being trapped at this resort, staring at the
mountains every day and knowing he couldn’t walk away from that
god-damned desk and enjoy them as he had before Gino had joined the
Marines.

He reached down and stroked her clit again as
he neared his own climax.

“Oh, ohhh, ohhhhhh, yes! Yes, please! Don’t
stop!” Her body convulsed beneath him as she experience her third
orgasm in just a few minutes.

Marc found himself breathing hard, as well.
He pumped harder, faster. The release he felt as his semen spurted
from him caused his legs to go weak. But he continued to pound her
pussy until the last spasm of his cock and her vagina ceased. He
pulled out immediately and staggered on weakened legs to the
bathroom where he disposed of the condom, washed himself off, then
got a clean washcloth and wet it with warm water for her.

He looked into the mirror over the vanity.
The disgust he saw written on his face brought him to a standstill.
Surprisingly, he wasn’t disgusted with Melissa, but with
himself.

What the fuck was he doing?

He needed to get away—from Melissa, from the
resort, from his family.

Far enough away to find himself.

Before this place totally consumed his
soul.

* * *

Christmas Day 2003, Aspen, Colorado

“You’ve what?” Mama turned red. All
conversation at the dinner table came to an abrupt halt, quite a
feat at a large Italian family gathering. Marc felt the scrutiny of
every set of eyes at the table, but most especially Mama’s. And
Melissa’s.

“I’ve joined the Navy.” Marc repeated.

“How could you do such a thing?” Mama’s voice
rose an octave. “Hasn’t this family given enough already?”

Marc met his mother’s gaze. “Exactly why I
need to do this.”

In part, at least. If Marc could play some
part in the victory over Al Qaeda and the Taliban, Gino would not
have died in vain. He’d even passed the test to train as a hospital
corpsman. Maybe he could help keep someone else from dying, so he
or she could return home to loved ones.

He glanced over at Melissa, whose face was
redder than Mama’s. If looks could kill, he’d need a corpsman of
his own. Why had Mama invited her to the family dinner anyway? She
and Gino had barely been engaged a week when he’d enlisted. Talk
about a whirlwind romance.

Marc hadn’t seen her since that disastrous
night at his apartment when he’d totally lost control. He’d talked
to the Navy recruiter the next day.

See the world.
Whether he was sent to
Iraq, Afghanistan, or just another part of the States, it would be
far enough away, he supposed.

Seeing Melissa again reminded him of the last
face-to-face conversation he’d had with Gino before his brother
left home, only to be killed in the mountains of Afghanistan five
months later.

Since Gino’s death—
Dio
, two months
short of two years now, he realized—Marc had buried himself in the
running of the resort, losing interest in the frivolous pursuits
he’d specialized in since high school.

Gino had been the favored son, the one Mama
groomed all his life to take over the family business. Always the
dutiful son, Gino had gone to Cornell’s Johnson School earning an
MBA, just as Mama wanted. He’d returned to Aspen and put the degree
to use turning the family’s ski lodge into a popular world-class,
five-star resort offering all of the amenities.

Marc had opted to attend a nearby college and
earn a degree in recreation and leisure studies, hoping to come
back to the resort to pursue the things he loved, like skiing and
camping. He’d lived the life of a carefree playboy—easy job, easy
money, easy women. No one expected anything more from him.

Then Marc had invited Melissa to Aspen late
in the summer following their college graduation to meet his
family. He and Melissa had dated more steadily since his third year
of college. Marc’s interest in BDSM had been developing for a few
years and Melissa had been a willing participant, the first woman
his age to have shown any interest in bondage and discipline.

When Marc had caught Gino in bed with Melissa
early one September morning two years ago, the brothers had fought,
physically, but also verbally. Gino had everything he could
possibly want—and yet he found the need to steal Marc’s girl away.
It wasn’t until much later Marc realized Melissa had set Gino up.
But Gino hadn’t had time to pursue women and fell head over heels
for Melissa, proposing to her that day, whether because he loved
her or wanted to rub Marc’s face in their relationship, Marc wasn’t
sure.

Neither of them had seen Melissa for who she
really was at that point. Gino probably never did. When the
Nine-Eleven attacks happened a week later, Gino surprised everyone
by enlisting. He loved his brother, even if they were embattled in
a constant rivalry.

Since he’d heard Gino had been killed in
action, guilt plagued Marc over the things he’d said to his big
brother that day. Had Gino enlisted for patriotic reasons for their
adopted homeland—or because Marc had driven him away with his anger
and animosity?

He’d loved his brother, even if they had
spent most of their lives embattled in an ugly sibling rivalry. Had
Marc driven his brother to his death?

Even though that thought had consumed him
every day since February 2002, it still had the power to cause his
meal to churn in his gut. He laid his fork down.

Mama’s voice brought him back to the present.
“You have responsibilities here. Who will operate the lodge?”

Anyone the hell but me.

Lord knew, he’d tried. But he and his mother
had clashed over every major decision he’d tried to make. Besides,
Marc had always been more interested in developing backcountry ski
and hiking weekend packages he could lead groups on, not overseeing
the day-to-day operations and making sure the payroll and taxes
were paid on time.

“I’ve been showing Alessandro and Carmela how
to take over for a couple months now. They’re ready for the
day-to-day management.” His brother and sister took a sudden
interest in the lasagna remaining on their plates, afraid of
revealing their duplicity in the plan Marc had put into action two
months ago when he’d enlisted.

“Unacceptable!” Her Lombardy accent became
more pronounced when she perceived a loss of control. She’d grown
up in the war-ravaged Apennine Mountains, where Marc and his
siblings had been born, as well. The family ran a ski lodge there,
but moved to Aspen when Mama had discovered the name of her father,
an American soldier in World War II. Marc’s grandfather had helped
the family get established in this country and all of the
D’Alessios were American citizens now.

“Your place is here. You will just un-join.”
She acted as though her decreeing such would make it so.

“Not an option, Mama. I fly to Chicago
tomorrow to begin training at Great Lakes.”

Mama’s hand gripped her fork and he couldn’t
help but think she wished it were protruding from his neck at the
moment. Her eyes narrowed. “How can you do this to me, Marco?”

The tears welling in her eyes tugged at
Marc’s heart, but he wouldn’t relent. “Mama, I’m not doing anything
to
you. I’m doing this
for
me.”

For my country. For Gino.

Papa, Sandro, and Carmela stared at him in
disbelief and something akin to awe. He’d never stood up to Mama
before. Melissa just looked as if something was slipping away from
her grasp.

“Marco,” Melissa began, “how can you do this
to your Mama?”

Well, that was new. Concern for his mother?
Rich, Melissa. Fucking rich.

Mama’s face became redder with Melissa’s
encouragement. “This family already made the ultimate sacrifice for
America. We need not shed any more precious D’Alessio blood in this
war.”

But the wrong D’Alessio brother’s blood was
shed.

If anyone had been expendable in the family,
it most certainly would have been Marc. Twenty-six years old and
when had he ever done something selfless? Noble? Honorable?

Marc wiped the condensation off his wine
glass with his thumb, watching a bead of water trickle down the
stem. He’d never admitted to his brother how much he admired him,
spending all those years being jealous of Gino’s status in the
family. He’d never have that chance now.

Marc looked up at her, his gaze locking with
Melissa’s. She hadn’t loved Gino the way he’d deserved. She sure as
hell didn’t love Marc. Was she just some damned gold digger? He
dismissed her, not caring what her motives were.

Then he turned to his mother. “I need to do
this, Mama.” His voice sounded raspy even to his ears. Marc
maintained his gaze with Mama.
You aren’t going to win this one,
Mama
. When she looked down at her plate. Marc felt as if the
world shifted on its axis. She’d surrendered.

“Well, at least you haven’t joined the
Marines,” Mama whispered. “I don’t think I could bear that.”

Gino had served with the Marines. No problem.
Marc was tired of trying to compete with his brother. He’d never
fill his brother’s shoes as a war hero either, unless he got
himself killed, which he didn’t intend to do. So he’d chosen the
Navy instead.

“Just be careful, son,” Papa said. “Come home
safe.”

“I will, Papa.” Marc placed his red cloth
napkin on the table. “Now, if you will all excuse me, I need to
relieve the manager at the front desk for the night shift.” Marc
had decided he and Sandro would work some of the holiday shifts to
give more employees a chance to spend time with their families.

“Sandro, when you’re finished eating, you’re
on duty at the concierge desk tonight.”

“I’m finished.” His little brother quickly
wiped his mouth, probably anxious to escape the tension in the
room, as well. “Mama, may I be excused?”

Mama gave him a nod, but her gaze remained
fixed on Marc. Without any acknowledgement of Melissa, Marc turned
to leave. He felt Mama’s and Melissa’s gazes boring into his
shoulder blades as he exited the dining room.

* * *

Nearly an hour later, Marc placed the phone
in the receiver and sighed. He looked across the hotel lobby at the
blazing fireplace surrounded by the festive decorations Carmela had
orchestrated. Several couples laughed and flirted as they sipped
cocktails and beer, gearing up for an evening of sex, no doubt.

Two years ago, he’d partied with the guests
after a long day on the slopes giving ski lessons. Marc had never
fit into a business suit. The guests had treated him like one of
their own. He preferred to teach ski lessons during the winter
months, lead extreme mountain-hiking excursions the other seasons,
and provide his own
specialized
services
after hours
year-round. His gut tightened. He’d given up all three, the last
when Gino died.

Right now, though, he had a guest asking for
him specifically for some emergency in her cabin. Marc picked up
the master-key card and put the “Back in a Moment” sign on the
reception desk. He told the bartender at the wet bar in the lobby
she’d need to cover the desk for a while.

Marc sauntered over to the Concierge desk.
“Sandro, come with me. You’re going to have to deal with these
matters after I leave tomorrow.”

At least Sandro showed a knack for the
business end of things—and Carmela enjoyed being activities
coordinator and working on publicity. They’d do fine. Of course,
Mama would continue to pull the strings. She wasn’t one to
relinquish control.

“You and Carmela have done a great job these
past couple months,” Marc said as they walked out the service exit.
“You’re going to do fine.”

“Are you sure?”

Marc squeezed his little brother at the nape
of his neck. “Hell, yeah, Sandro.”

The wind whipped at their faces as they
crossed the grounds to one of the more isolated cabins. He wondered
what could be wrong. He’d always made sure the resort was
maintained to perfection.