Chapter Nine

 

 

Angelina’s heart thudded against her chest. What had possessed her to tell him something like that?

“Oh, cara. I can’t tell you how sorry I am that happened to you.” He held her tightly, placing his chin on the top of her head and enveloping her in his strength and warmth.

“Let’s put that fantasy and bad memory on the back burner for now. Tell me about another fantasy. One you haven’t experienced yet. Perhaps something you’ve read about…or even seen.”

“Um, there was this one time when…I was at a private club in Denver.”

“What kind of private club?”

Oh, she didn’t want to admit she’d gone to a kink club. “Um, one where adults…couples mostly…do...things to each other.”

“Just what kinds of things do they do?” She could have sworn by his voice he was smiling, but didn’t want to pull away from his comforting arms to confirm her suspicions. Just what did he find so funny?

She sighed. “Well, pretty much anything you can imagine.”

“I can imagine a lot, pet.”

Oh, damn it all, apparently the man had never been inside one before. He was going to think she was a slut, but obviously, she was going to have to tell him now. He was like a dog with a bone. “Promise you won’t think badly of me?”

“It’s rather difficult for me to promise when I don’t know what you’ve done yet.”

Well, what did she expect, unconditional love from a near stranger? One who happened to be cuddling her on his lap on the edge of her bed? Oh, Nonna. I hope you aren’t watching! Angelina decided to just spit it out.

“I…We were…in a kink club.” She held her breath and steeled herself.

“Ahhh, I see. What was it like?”

He certainly didn’t seem to be judging her. But he wanted her to talk about it? Oh, God. This just got worse and worse on the embarrassment scale.

“I didn’t see much.”

She realized she’d unbuttoned his shirt and her fingers played idly with the springy chest hairs in the vee of his shirt. She didn’t want him to think she’d gone to a sleazy one, though. “It seemed like a nice place. Karla, she was the club’s singer, was very kind to me after…well, later. She brought me home. And the club’s owner, Master Adam, was very nice, too.”

His hand stopped stroking her hair. “Were there any other nice people you met there?”

“No. Mostly I just watched.”

After a moment, his hand began stroking her again, but she felt tenseness in his body. Maybe he was judging her.

“What did you see?”

“There were several couples in the great room who were engaging in different…activities.”

“Which activities interested you?”

Her mind returned to the main room of the club where one of the Doms had caught her attention while Allen was filling out guest papers on her. The Dom wore a Harley-Davidson jacket with the tail of a dragon tattoo curled around his bicep, the rest of the mythical creature disappearing under the vest. Very lethal looking—both the dragon and the man, who held a coiled whip against his leather-clad thigh.

“There was a Dom with a whip.” She felt Marc’s body tense even more, but wasn’t sure if it was the mention of the Dom or the whip that bothered him. Well, he asked, so she was going to tell him what she liked. “Kneeling before him was a blonde woman who looked up at him adoringly, waiting for him to do…well, whatever he wanted to do, I suppose.” The man had a whip, for Christ’s sake!

“Did the whip excite you?”

She pulled out of his arms, bumping his chin against her head in her haste to get away, but she wasn’t going to let him get the notion she was into whips. “God, no! Don’t even go there!”

He relaxed visibly and smiled. “Duly noted, gattina.”

Angelina felt the tension leave her, as well, and took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. He seemed as relieved as she was, although she had no idea why.

“So, tell me what it was about the Dom/sub that interested you so much.”

She blushed. It was pretty lame as far as fantasies went, but she’d been so turned on by the two. “He put his middle finger deep into her mouth and, with the other fingers and the thumb of his hand, he…I guess you’d say caged her chin, forcing her mouth open.” Angelina felt herself getting wet just remembering. She shrugged and smiled.

“Do you know what it was about the scene that excited you?”

She shook her head. “I’m not sure. It just did.”

She lowered her gaze to his bare chest where her fingers were buried in the light sprinkling of his black chest hairs. She liked touching him. He waited, expecting more of an answer, she supposed.

“The woman’s expression was…well, she looked up at him with such, I don’t know the word—adoration maybe? Devotion? Trust?” She swallowed. “Or maybe it was the way he took control of her mouth like that. Of her.” She shivered. “I don’t know, but it blew me away.”

Marc’s gaze went to her mouth and Angelina’s clit throbbed in response as if he’d taken control of her mouth the way the tatted Dom had done with the blonde at the club. She squirmed on his lap. Her gaze locked on his mouth. She wanted him to kiss her again, only rougher than he’d kissed her last night.

She’d never tried to seduce a man, usually letting him make the first move. But then she wound up with guys like Allen. If this wasn’t the opportunity of a lifetime—sitting in the lap of one of the sexiest men she’d ever met—there might never be another one.

Her fingers glided across his chest, stroking his firm pecs and wishing he wasn’t wearing a shirt. His muscles were hard, too, and tight. She brushed the nail of her thumb across his nip and felt it grow even harder, but not as hard as his penis pressing against her bottom.

He stilled her hand by pressing it against his chest. “Cara, you’re playing with fire.”

She searched his eyes. “What are your fantasies, Marc?”

His lips curled into a smile, but his eyes remained hard. “I don’t think I’ll be in town long enough to tell you about all of them.”

“Which fantasy would you like to fulfill with me?” Had she just asked that? What had gotten into her? She’d never been brave, or brazen, in her life.

“None.”

Angelina felt his rejection like the jab of a knife into her chest. Oh, God! What had come over her? She wasn’t some sex goddess men fantasized about. Since Friday night, he’d made her feel so…beautiful and desirable. How had she misread his interest so badly?

Embarrassed, she tried to get off his lap. She needed to get away. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what…”

His arm tightened around her waist and he held her forearm to keep her in place. “Remain still.”

His tone of voice made her freeze in place, causing her stomach to fall about six inches, leaving her breathless. She blinked against the stinging in her eyes, nothing compared to the stinging blow to her ego. He took her chin and turned her to face him.

He seemed to struggle within himself for a moment, then a determined look flickered in his eyes and he looked down at her mouth. She felt his penis throb against her butt and held her breath, then his fingers wrapped around her jaw and he stared into her eyes. His thumb pressed against her lower lip. Never breaking eye contact, he pushed at her lower teeth until her jaw slackened, then his thumb invaded her mouth. Her clit jolted in response and she gasped. Her breathing increased as she felt her body respond to this show of control.

Marc’s thumb went deeper inside her, pressing against her tongue. He continued to watch her eyes as if waiting for some response. Her clit began to pulsate as if he’d touched her. He smiled. Surely he hadn’t felt it, too.

Her mind went back to the Denver BDSM club in Denver. Angelina wrapped her lips around his thumb and sucked, just as the blonde had done. His smile faded and when he began to remove his thumb, she used her teeth to apply gentle pressure and keep him from moving. This fantasy wasn’t over yet.

As if he came to some decision, Marc’s thumb and fingers caged her chin and opened her mouth wider. She could have sworn her uterus just spasmed, because that spot in her lower belly grew warm and tingly, her muscles melting like butter. The very act of touching her this way was so primal.

So…dominant. She sucked air into her lungs, realizing that was exactly the reaction he’d intended. Her gaze remained locked with his. Why hadn’t she realized all along he was a Dom? He’d taken control of his surroundings from the moment they’d met—of Allen, even Luke to an extent, and most definitely of her. Mio Dio, she hoped he wouldn’t be able to tell the effect he had on her. She didn’t want to be submissive to anyone ever again.

He smiled. Damn him. He knew she was turned on by his he-man display of authority over her. Then his thumb was gone and his hand gripped her lower jaw opening her further as his mouth came down hard against hers. His other hand went to the back of her head, gripping her hair as he tilted her head back, forcing her mouth open further. As if she could have denied him access at this point.

His whiskers scratched her cheek and chin, sending flashes of sizzling energy in a beeline to her clit, which began to throb in earnest now. His tongue plunged inside her thoroughly restrained mouth, plundering her. He knew she no longer had the will to resist him.

Marc sucked her tongue into his mouth, released her, then invaded her mouth again. When he pulled his tongue out to let her breathe, he captured her lower lip between his teeth and tugged, once again looking deep into her eyes. She released a breathless gasp. Not wanting to reveal whatever he was reading in her eyes any longer, she closed them. He bit her lip indicating his displeasure, not breaking the skin but hard enough to sting, bringing tears to her eyes. She opened her eyes again and he smiled in victory.

His hand skimmed teasingly down her jaw, over her blouse leaving a wake of gooseflesh, only to grasp her nipple through the fabric and roll it hard between his fingers, sending her hips jolting upward in response.

Angelina pulled away, panting, and stared into the deep green pools of his eyes. Her chin burned where his whiskers had abraded her skin. Chest heaving, she tried to regain control, as if she ever could have control in this man’s presence.

He released her and pulled away.

“Wow. How did you do that?”

He laughed. “Do what, pet?”

“Go all Dom like that. Take control.” Turn me on more than I’ve ever been before.

Gentle now, his thumb stroked her cheek, avoiding the area where Allen struck her. He brushed his thumb pad over her swollen lower lip, sending more jolts to her pussy. She realized his hand still held her head by the hair and her clit responded as if touched.

“Did you like that?”

Well, hell to the yes, I did. “I’m not submissive.”

“Answer the question.”

“Mmm-hmm.” She felt her face go hot and glanced away.

“Look at me.” He waited until she complied and she was powerless to do anything else. “Why does being submissive scare you so, cara?”

“I trusted someone once. He…broke that trust.”

“He wasn’t worthy of your trust. Will you trust me to help you break free from that memory?”

Trust him? A knot formed in her chest. Allen had ruined her for being able to trust any man again. Even someone she was attracted to, like Marc. Tears burned her eyelids.

“Look at me, bella.”

How many times had he called her beautiful? Maybe he just meant her face. She knew she had a pretty face because she’d been told so all her life. But her body wasn’t beautiful by any stretch.

So how could she trust Marc? Her brothers had told her since Papa died that men wanted one thing—sex—and they would say whatever they had to in order to get it. Was Marc just trying to get her into bed?

Oh, God! She realized where she was sitting with him. And how she’d nearly stripped him and had her way with him a moment ago. She wanted Marc. But not as Sir Marc or Master Marc or whatever a Dom was called in real life. She wanted him because she was attracted to him.

“Your mind is going a mile a minute. Look at me.”

His command sent butterflies in frenzied flight in her tummy and she met his gaze once more, with reluctance. Oh God, she didn’t want him to be displeased with her, but knew she couldn’t do what he asked. “I don’t know you well enough to trust you.”

He smiled, his moss-green eyes lighting up. “Good girl.” Puzzled by his unexpected response, she waited until he explained. “Trust has to be earned over time. We’re just getting to know each other. But we have developed some trust. You invited me into your home. You let me hold you in my lap—albeit with some token resistance.” He grinned, and she responded in kind.

She hadn’t really thought about it that way, but he was right. He hadn’t raised her hackles or her radar. Of course, neither had Allen. So, maybe her radar was on the fritz. Still, she’d learned to be cautious.

“I’d like to help you regain your ability to trust, whether it’s for Luke or someone else, if you’ll let me.”

Her heart thrummed against her chest. He didn’t promise anything in the future with him. Only tonight. “Just what did you have in mind?”

“A demonstration.”

He wanted her to be a guinea pig? Okay, this set a few warning bells off.

“I want to explore something with you tonight. I will not inflict any pain you do not agree to or break the trust you place in me.”

He paused as she considered his words and she bit the inside of her lower lip. Well, she certainly wouldn’t agree to any pain whatsoever.

“Do you remember how you flew apart for us in the living room?”

“How could I forget coming like that?”

“No, not that you came, but how you came?”

She creased her brow. “Sorry, I was too busy coming to overanalyze it.”

He smiled.

Her insides melted and she grinned back.

Then he grew serious again. He stroked her cheek, the one Allen hadn’t hit. When he smiled at her again, she felt her tummy turn to jelly.

“I believe you’re sexually submissive, pet.”

She grew stiff and pulled away from his hand. What was he talking about? No way! She fought the urge to run to the mirror to see if “SUBMISSIVE” was stamped across her forehead. She was an assertive business woman. She lived independently and was in charge of everything in her life. Hadn’t she even tackled Allen tonight, leaving him bloodied and achingly sore? No, definitely not submissive. How could he even think such a thing?

Besides, she’d already explored submission with Allen, and it was the worst sexual experience she’d ever had. Angelina pulled out of his arms and to her feet.

“I don’t need cuffs and floggers to get aroused. Last night, I came with Luke because I was stimulated out of my ever-loving mind.” She didn’t want to analyze the experience on the sofa now either. “It wouldn’t have been any different if I were restrained.”

“Oh, but you were restrained last night. Think back.”

Angelina had no idea what he was talking about. She definitely would have noticed if she’d been tied down. She tried to replay what had taken place in the living room. For one, she’d never been so responsive with anyone before in her life. Images flickered across her mind’s eye of having her arms placed above her head by Marc. Okay, sure, he’d ordered her to keep them there, but he hadn’t used ropes or cuffs or anything to restrain them. She could have moved them anytime she wanted to. In fact, she had moved them, to stop Luke at one point.

Then she remembered that Marc had sternly ordered her to return her hands behind her head and she’d complied without question, just as she complied to his orders a few minutes ago. When she’d tried to move her hips to get Luke to lick her clit where she’d wanted or nearly kicked him as a ticklish response, even Luke had restrained her by holding her thighs in a way that made it impossible for her to move. Was Luke a Dom, too? Her heart pounded at the implications. Did they run in packs or something?

“But Luke didn’t force me to give anything I didn’t want to give. He even stopped when I screamed for him to do so.”

Marc closed his eyes a moment and sighed. When he opened them again, he took on a patient demeanor, as if teaching a child. She should find that very offensive, shouldn’t she?

“Being submissive doesn’t mean you need or want to be taken by force. It might, but isn’t a requirement. The Dom/sub or Top/bottom relationship actually is an extremely consensual one. You would discuss what acts you will—and will not—be experiencing with your Dom or Top in advance of a scene. You’ll discuss the limits you’re willing to allow as a submissive.”

He paused. Waiting.

Submissive? She couldn’t get beyond that word. Bottom didn’t sound much better. Marc couldn’t be right. Could he? She looked back at him. He seemed to be waiting for her to catch up with him.

“Your sexual release can be heightened when you are with the right Dom.”

“I don’t want another Dom.”

“I don’t think you’ve ever had a real Dom. I think you were with someone who used BDSM to mask his abusive nature.”

She couldn’t explain to him what had happened with Allen, not only because of the embarrassment of putting herself in such a position, but because it would just add fuel to the fire. She had a feeling Marc was ready to beat Allen to a pulp. Knowledge of what happened in Denver would just put him over the top.

Marc seemed to come to some decision. “Go to the bathroom and wash your pussy, thoroughly dry yourself, then come back here and lie on the bed.”

Where was he going with this? If this was his idea of a great way to get this woman into bed, he wasn’t as sexy as she thought. He waited for her to move, rather than guiding or forcing her to do so.

Okay, fine. She’d humor him, then prove him wrong. She went to the bathroom and did as he’d ord…no, suggested, then came back into the bedroom and plopped onto the edge of the bed, sitting upright.

“I said lie down.”

His tone let her know he was displeased with her. Now why did that cause her stomach to knot? “Sorry.” Wanting to get beyond this silly demonstration, experiment, or whatever it was—and certainly not because she was submissive—she did as he instructed. Scooting to the middle of the bed, she reclined and waited for him to join her.

“Open for me, cara.”

Not knowing exactly what he wanted her to open, she gave him a quizzical expression until his gaze went pointedly to her legs, which tingled as if he’d touched them. She raised her knees with some hesitation, then her legs spread open for him, as if she no longer had control over them. How had he gotten her to obey so easily, with a few words and a glance?

Marc pulled the hem of her skirt up over her knees, her thighs, her hips. Heat suffused her face. She wasn’t used to being so exposed. His fingers touched her pussy as if inspecting her. “Good girl.”

She hated how her body responded to his praise as if she were a dog and he had just pet her on the top of the head for bringing him his newspaper or something. If she could wag her tail, she would. She stifled a giggle.

Before she could anticipate what would happen next, he lay down beside her—fully clothed, as she was. Well, more or less. Feeling exposed, she pulled her legs back together.

“I did not say you could move your legs, pet.”

Her heart pounded against her chest, and her knees fell open again as if pulled by invisible marionette strings. Okay, that was just weird. Why didn’t he make a move? She waited for him to touch her or to tell her where he wanted her to touch him, but he simply propped himself up on his elbow and looked down at her, staring at her face. After a few moments of scrutiny, she began to squirm.

“You are such a beautiful woman. Bellissima.”

Angelina looked away, uncomfortable with his words. For whatever reason, Marc and Luke hadn’t noticed her added pounds or that she didn’t have…

“Do not contradict me, pet.”

Her gaze flew back to his, her heart pounding in her ears. He wasn’t happy with her now. “I didn’t say…”

“You didn’t have to speak. Your body is very expressive, especially your eyes.” His finger stroked her face from temple to chin. “If a man says you are beautiful, cara, what gives you the right to disagree with him?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Since we were at the bar Friday night, you have made faces every time Luke or I complimented your beauty, your body, your breasts. You have, in effect, called us liars.”

She propped herself up on her elbows. “No! I didn’t mean to…”

“Lie down, unless I tell you to move.”

Her stomach quivered at his firm tone and she plopped back down onto the mattress. He reached out and brushed the hair away from her face. “Cara, believe me when I say that a man could become lost in your eyes and never wish to be found again. Your gorgeous breasts fill my hand and are so damned responsive to my touch.” To demonstrate, he cupped her breast, brushing his thumb over her nipple, which sprang to life. “You have the most delicious curves,” he continued, letting his hand roam over her waist to her well-padded hip. “I could spend a lifetime worshiping your body and never grow tired.”

Tears burned the backs of her eyes. She couldn’t express how his words made her feel. Marc and Luke both appreciated her just the way she was, extra pounds and all. So what if they weren’t the norm in American culture. They both wanted her. A tear trickled from her eye and traced its way to her ear.

When Marc lowered his head toward hers, she closed her eyes, expecting his kiss. Instead, his tongue followed the path of her tear, as if to take her hurt away. He pulled back and she opened her eyes to meet his gaze. After scrutinizing her long enough to make her squirm again, he lowered his face toward hers once more and she closed her eyes, waiting for him to kiss her. Nothing. She opened her eyes and found he hovered just above her face, his gaze boring into hers.

“What is it you need, cara?” he whispered.

She forced her body to relax, even though he was invading her personal space—and not in a comfortable way. “Nothing. I just thought…you…” She wasn’t used to expressing her wants or needs. “I just thought you were going to kiss me.”

“What is it you need?” he repeated. “If you aren’t submissive, then tell me what you do need. What you want even.”

Well, for one thing, she didn’t want to be called a submissive. What was he trying to prove with this demonstration? Or had it even started? All they were doing was talking. Maybe he was waiting for her to take the initiative. Well, she could do that. Reaching up, she put her hand behind the back of his head and pulled him toward her again. Her tongue pressed against his closed mouth, trying to force him to open his lips to let her gain entrance. At first, he refused, just as her angel-man-wolf had done.

Eager to show him just how assertive she could be, she pressed harder until at last he opened for her. She entangled her tongue with his. After what seemed forever, his tongue answered hers, stroke for stroke. She fanned her fingertips down his neck and across his shoulders. His muscles strained against his shirt. What would he look like naked?

His hand returned to her breast, gently massaging the flesh through her blouse. Pull my nipples again, Marc. But he didn’t read her mind and she waited in vain. Hoping to show him the needs she couldn’t express verbally, she reached out and pinched his nipple, feeling the hard pebble through his shirt become even harder. Yet he continued to touch her breasts in an almost reverent way. This so was not what she wanted or needed.

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.”