Nobody's Angel (18 page)

Frustrated, she decided to turn up the heat. Her hand strayed down to his pants, boldly taking hold of the erect penis straining against his zipper.
Mio Dio!
His size dwarfed her hand, heat emanating from the rigid member through his pants. He wanted her. She felt emboldened.

But he took her hand and placed it at her side. “Keep your hand here if you don’t want this demonstration to go further than you need it to.”

How could he know what she needed? Maybe she needed to have him make love to her. Wasn’t that where this was leading? Uncertain, she pulled back just as Marc’s hand moved from her breast across her abdomen, stroking her gently along the way. Nervous, she couldn’t keep her knees from jerking toward her abdomen at the ticklish sensations his touch brought.

Oh, no. He’d told her not to move. But who died and made him a god? Besides, the movement was involuntary.

He grinned and her abdomen melted like jelly. “Your ticklishness might create some…interesting results.”

She didn’t want to think about what that meant.

“Lower your legs, pet.”

And why did he keep calling her pet? The word sounded so…demeaning. So, why did her stomach quiver every time he said it? When she did as ordered, her gaze never leaving his, Marc’s fingers delved between her outer pussy lips, but she knew already that she wasn’t wet the way she’d been with Luke. He guided her knee outward, opening her more fully to his touch, but meeting resistance at the dry opening of her vagina. His hand stilled.

Embarrassed, she pushed him away and turned her face from his. “Maybe it’s too soon,” she said, hoping he wouldn’t be disappointed in her. Even when she played with herself, once a day was about as often as she’d been interested.

He laughed quietly. “My pet, I assure you, a woman as responsive as you are is capable of multiple orgasms in a very short time. Do you want me to tell you what is wrong,
cara
?”

No, the last thing I want to hear is that I’m sexually repressed or, even worse, a sexual deviant who needs pain to get off
.

But earlier, on the sofa, she’d have begged to be filled by Luke’s penis. Now, she didn’t feel ready to make that step with Marc. Maybe she could only respond to Luke. Or did she need both of them loving her at the same time to achieve an orgasm?

Or, yet another possibility was that she needed to be restrained, whether with imaginary bindings or real ones? Damn it, she’d thought she’d finally hit her sexual stride on that sofa, only to stumble again in bed alone with Marc. Well, a threesome wasn’t an option for this Italian Catholic girl.

Becoming defensive, she tried to push herself up to avoid this discussion and what she was sure would be an accusation of her shortcomings. She’d just have to be content with the memory of her solitary orgasm.

“Lie down, pet.” The authoritative way he spoke to her ended her retreat from the bed, but she remained upright.

“Look, you’ve had your fun. This demonstration is over.”

“Oh, no, pet. The demonstration has only begun.” He paused. “I…said…lie…down.”

Chapter Ten

Angelina looked at Marc, who waited patiently on the bed for her to obey his order.

“Lie…down. Now.”

His calmly spoken, yet firm, command set off a flurry of butterflies in her stomach and increased her pulse exponentially each time he repeated it. Not sure why she complied, she eased back onto the bed, her gaze never breaking contact with his, determined to show him how submissive she was not. No doormat’s downcast gaze for her.

Marc took her wrists and held them above her head with one hand, sending an immediate jolt of electricity to rejuvenate her clit.

Mio Dio!
He hadn’t even touched her and already she’d felt her body respond, just by having her hands restrained by him. No! This wasn’t happening. She was not submissive! Her mind screamed the denial, rejecting the signals pulsing through her.

He lowered his mouth to her right breast and she closed her eyes as he took her nipple between his teeth and bit her through the cotton peasant blouse, tugging her nipple to the point of pain. Her knees bucked up as her pussy contracted.

Oh, God, yes!

Looking down at the top of Marc’s head, his short black curls caused an image to flash before her eyes of her dream lover holding her safely in his arms—with a wooden St. Andrew’s Cross visible out of the corner of her eye, so like the one she’d been tortured on. Marc raised his head and met her gaze and smiled, pinching her nipple. His jawline and mouth were so like her dream lover’s they could be twins. Or…

Oh,
Dio
, no!

What if those images were some kind of premonition? If so, then that was a dream she never wanted to come true. She did not want to be his or anyone’s whipping post. Her body began to shake and Marc grew serious and stretched out again, pulling her against him, holding her down with his arm across her abdomen, his leg over her thighs.

“Stay with me, pet. Tell me what’s going through that busy mind of yours.”

She shook her head, too embarrassed.

“I can’t meet your needs if you don’t talk to me. Now, answer me.”

No!

Talk to him.

Angelina looked away as the two sides of her brain dueled for supremacy just as hard as Marc battled to dominate her body. Trying to sort out the confusing messages her brain and body were sending. His finger crooked around her chin, forcing her to face him again.

“Don’t shut me out, pet.”

She opened her eyes. She did not want to react sexually to pain, even minor pain. Allen had made her feel like a freak at that BDSM club. She’d suffered the physical effects from the beating for days—and still fought the emotional ones from having her trust shattered. Marc said she’d even had a nightmare tonight, probably stemming from that incident, if not the attack last night.

Did she want to be demeaned by such labels as pet? To be convinced she was a pain slut, as Allen had called her? She groaned.

“Now what are you thinking, little one?”

Angelina shook her head. She couldn’t speak the words. Some thoughts were best kept private or he’d think she was some kind of freak. Lord, maybe he already did. Maybe he was into pain freaks. But he hadn’t seemed interested in whips. That was something at least. Still she didn’t want to be his…

“Talk to me, cara. I have a feeling your mind is conjuring up half-truths at best. Ask me questions. What do you want to know about submission?”

“I came for Luke and he didn’t hurt me.”

“Submission isn’t about pain. It’s about training your mind and body to surrender control to a Dom who wants to meet your needs and protect you. For tonight only, I am that Dom.”

Did he have someone else? Why hadn’t she asked before? “Are you married?”

He threw his head back and laughed. “No, pet. I’m not the marrying type. Not even dating anyone at the moment.”

Then why would he want to be her Dom for only one tonight? Wait! He was confusing her. She didn’t want a Dom for even one night.

Her mind latched onto what else he’d said. Training. On the drive home from Denver last month, the club’s singer, Karla, had told Angelina how desperate she was to get the owner, Master Adam, to notice her.

“
Master Damián trains unattached submissives at the club to please the Doms,” Karla said. “I’m thinking about asking him to train me.”

“Why not just ask Master Adam to ‘train’ you to be what he wants?”

When an immediate response wasn’t forthcoming, Angelina glanced across the car seat at the woman driving the SUV. Karla bit the corner of her lower lip.

“I’m afraid I might not be submissive.” She spoke barely above a whisper. “I don’t want to disappoint him or embarrass myself. If I can’t be a submissive, then I’ll never attract his attention.
”

Karla’s voice had broken, probably along with a piece of the young woman’s heart. Angelina wondered where love entered into a BDSM relationship. So what if Karla wasn’t submissive? Couldn’t the club’s owner find her attractive anyway? Why couldn’t they just have a normal sex life, without the dominance and submission stuff?

Angelina felt so sorry for the woman. She had it bad for someone who didn’t even know she existed unless she could fit into the cookie cutter shape of a submissive. Karla could have this crazy stuff if she was that desperate to have her man, but Angelina would never let anyone restrain her or beat on her again.

Anxious to put distance between them, she pushed him away, surprised that he let her up without resistance. She bolted upright and stood in one motion, feeling dizzy for a moment, but moved a few feet away before turning to face him. Looking at him sitting there so calmly, she said, “I won’t be anyone’s submissive, Marc.” When he only smiled back, she screamed, “I am not your pet. And I most certainly am not anyone’s pain slut!”

He spoke calmly, not letting his voice rise with emotion as hers had. “
Cara
are you trying to convince me…or yourself?”

He got up from the bed and came to stand a few feet in front of her. “You are spending too much time in your head, ignoring the needs of your body, blocking your body from feeling anything. Someone hurt you, Angelina, but I am not that Dom.” He came closer to her, towering over her as he rubbed warmth into her cold arms.

“If I promise you I will not cause you pain, will you let me show you how your body responds to dominance?”

She remembered back to when she’d tried and failed to seduce him on her bed only minutes ago. No response from her body at all, and not for a lack of attraction. She found him very sexy, but she’d been too busy trying to figure out how to please him—trying to get him excited—to pay attention to her body’s wants and needs.

No flames ignited. Not even a flicker.

Because you were too busy trying to analyze it in your head, Angie
.

Oh, God. She had. Then he’d restrained her arms, bit her nipple, and... Dear Lord. Just thinking about the scene sent her clit into spasms again. Was she a pain freak?

Wait. He said he could show her if she was submissive without pain. Maybe she should at least give him a chance to try. Under her terms.

“No restraints.”

He smiled, as if he’d won some victory. “No restraints—as long as you obey me.”

Obey? The seemingly minor clarification sounded like semantics, but just what commands did he plan to deliver?

Really, she had only two other criteria. “No pain, no humiliation.” She felt like she was ordering a sundae—double scoop vanilla, peanuts, no sprinkles, please.

Only this kind of sex wasn’t vanilla; and it was all about the sprinkles.

He grew serious. “Let’s clarify pain.”

“What is there to clarify? Pain is pain.”

“When I bit your nipple a moment ago, was that painful? Be truthful.”

Her face grew warm at the memory and she felt her clit jerk at the sensory memory. Oh, yes. It had hurt—hurt so good.

“No. It…it excited me.”

“Good girl. Thank you for your honesty.” She felt her stomach turn to mush at his praise. “Now, let’s get started.” She had a feeling he was afraid she would change her mind. A valid concern, given how shaky her resolve was.

“I’m going to gather together some items we’ll need for our scene. This might be a good time for you to take care of any bathroom needs you have. You’re going to be tied up for a while.” When she flinched, he added, “
Figuratively
speaking, pet. Don’t worry. I take your trust very seriously.” His hand reached out and stroked her face, causing her insides to quiver.

“Now listen carefully, pet.” His smile faded. How did he switch from gentle to authoritarian mode so seamlessly? Dom mode. “When I return, I want you kneeling on the floor.” He walked over to the bed and took one of her pillows, placing it on the floor about two feet from the bed. “Here,” he said, pointing to the pillow. “Back straight. Head down. Hands clasped behind your back. Facing the bed. Completely naked. Is that clear?”

“Ye—.” The word didn’t quite make it past the lump in her throat. She cleared it and tried again. “Yes.” Would she remember all of his instructions?

“During this scene, you will refer to me as Sir.”

She swallowed down the uprush of fear at the thought of being naked and vulnerable before him. Could she submit to him? It wasn’t as if he hadn’t already seen and touched her girly bits. But she’d still had her clothing then. And she hadn’t given up control. Well, not entirely.

But, truth be told, what she felt wasn’t fear alone. His words excited her more than when he’d touched or bitten her. She swallowed hard.

“Yes, Sir.”

He smiled, satisfied with her response.

Dear Lord, what had she just agreed to?

* * *

After watching Angelina walk into the bathroom through the closet—a bizarre architectural concept, to say the last—Marc crossed the short distance to the closet himself and searched for…
ah, yes. Perfecto
. He chose a wide satin sash and saw a few other cloth belts on her belt rack, if he needed them later. Her being so ticklish might present a problem. One last check, but he didn’t see anything else he could use.

Too bad he hadn’t thought to pack his toy bag while he was in Denver yesterday afternoon, but he hadn’t expected things to progress to this level with Luke in tow. He tamped down the momentarily rearing of his conscience. This wasn’t about sex. This was strictly about control and giving Angelina a lesson in how a Dom should treat her, should she ever dip her toe into BDSM waters again.

She needed him now, so he’d just have to improvise for this sensation-play scene. Quickly. She would feel vulnerable as she knelt waiting for him to return.
If
she knelt. He wasn’t completely certain she’d submit to him yet. While he wanted her to wait long enough to begin to surrender some of that tight grip she had on her control, he knew if he waited too long, she would get too deep into her mind again and talk herself out of going through with the scene.

What else could he use? There should be plenty of implements in the kitchen. She was a chef, for God’s sake. He left the bedroom and headed down the hallway and found Luke asleep in the chair where he’d left him. Marc shook his head. What his friend really needed was a wake-up call. If they managed to get her to Denver, would Luke come to his senses?