Somebody's Angel (#5 in a Military Romance / BDSM Romance series) (Rescue Me) (22 page)

Sweet.

Until she pulled away. “Didn’t Mistress tell you to remain still, boy?”

“Yes, ma’am. But it’s hard to do when you touch me like that.”

“How many times have you teased and tickled me while teaching me to discipline my body?”

True. But she’d needed long-term discipline. He wouldn’t be…

She squeezed his balls more tightly.

Fuck!

“Mistress asked you a direct question.”

His throat constricted, but he answered in a harsh whisper, “Yes, Mistress A. Many times, too many to count, actually. I have a new appreciation for your incredible willpower.”

Her chuckle either meant she appreciated his compliment—or knew he was bull-shitting. But if the latter, one thing he’d learned tonight was that he would earn swift punishment. He waited to see what her response would be. The cock ring continued to buzz, keeping him erect. Maybe his fate was to suffer all night with a hard-on.

Better than coming on command.

Whoa! He enjoyed a good orgasm no matter who was in charge. Was he worried about letting his guard down enough to allow her to control his orgasm? He found it easier to reach orgasm with Angelina than with any woman he’d ever been with. Even if he couldn’t always get there, he always made sure Angelina did.

Angelina’s lips wrapped around the head of his cock again, and he fought hard not to move his hips. So she hadn’t decided to call this off? Her teeth grazed his head as she pulled away, setting his own teeth on edge.

Careful there, Mistress.

She turned off the cock ring and took him deeper into her mouth. He shook with the effort to remain in control. Her finger pressed against his perineum, and he nearly escaped from his restraints.

“Please forgive me, Mistress.” Perhaps she’d go easy on him if he admitted his inability to lie still.

She removed her mouth and left his cock wet, cold, and rigid. He noticed a burning where she’d touched the area over his prostate gland that grew warmer and warmer. What the fuck had she put on there?

“Want to feel something else burn, boy?”

Unable to process her words, his first inkling at what she meant came when she tugged on the chain between the clamps. He steeled himself for the release of the first one, but the cock ring buzzed to life a half second before, short-circuiting his mind. The blinding pain as the first clamp released caused him to fist his hands. A whoosh of blood rushed into his nip. He hissed before masking his discomfort.

Merda
. He’d forgotten how badly clamps hurt.

She bent to lave the sore nip with her tongue, dispersing the residual pain more quickly, just as he often did with her.

“Better?”

“I’m fine.” His heart continued to race but not because of the clamps. He just wanted this fucking scene to end.

Sweat broke out on his upper lip, but he managed to discipline both body and mouth.

Angelina didn’t remove the other clamp but tugged at the cock ring instead.

“Get ready to please Mistress, boy.” She turned it off as she worked it off his cock. His perineal area burned like crazy from whatever she’d used there. She took him into her mouth once more. When her tight throat encased the head of his penis, he nearly came undone but regained control.

His cock throbbed. Close. Very close, but Mistress hadn’t given him permission to come. He fought hard against the needed release.

Her hand grabbed the base of his cock like a vise, and she began pumping him.

“Please, Mistress, may I come?”
Dio
, she had him begging!

She rose off his cock and, in a raspy voice, commanded, “Come for me, boy. Now.”

“Come for me, Marco. You
will
come for me—now!”

The Italian woman’s grating voice threw ice on his libido, and his cock lost the urgent need to come. Suddenly, the thought of having an orgasm at her command nauseated him. His softening erection reflected his disgust.

“Let me help.” She removed the second nipple clamp. As the pain ripped through his chest, he couldn’t keep from pumping his hips upward against her hand. He’d had no warning she was ready to remove that clamp. He’d disobeyed her by moving but no longer cared.

He fought to keep his cock hard, yet knew it was a losing battle.

Angelina straddled him, but he’d lost his erection completely now.

“What is it you need from me?”

His chest muscles tightened, and he struggled to remove her weight by twisting his torso side to side. “Get the fuck off me.”

Not waiting for her to loosen her thighs and slide off him, he managed to twist hard enough to dump her on her ass on the mattress.

He couldn’t feel her any longer but knew from her voice she was next to him. “What’s going on, Marc? Did I hurt you?”

He fisted his hands, fighting the chains holding him immobile, but didn’t respond.

She stretched the latex blindfold over his forehead. “Your shrapnel injury. Did I hurt it?”

He blinked to clear his vision, his chest heaving as he fought for breath, but he didn’t look at her. He couldn’t. His initial response was to ask if she meant the emotional wound she had inflicted unknowingly, because that was the only place that hurt. “No. It’s fine.”

“You shut down. What’s going on? Eyes on me.”

He kept his gaze averted.

“I. Said. Eyes. On. Me.”

He wouldn’t allow her to read his emotions through his eyes, so he masked his expression before gazing at her with reluctance.

“Tell me what’s going on, Marc. What do you need?”

Her words slammed into Marc’s already wounded psyche like a projectile, instantly sending his heart rate through the roof as adrenaline pumped into his system. Angelina had only meant to play with him, but something—perhaps commanding him to come or asking him to convey his needs—had shut him down completely.

“That was a direct question, boy.”

He fought to regain control of his breathing, which became shallow and labored as the air chilled his clammy forehead. The safeword she’d given him lay on the tip of his tongue. He wouldn’t have to answer if he spoke his safeword—but doing so was a sign of weakness he couldn’t reveal.

What the fuck was going on? Even the ball gag, which had just about sent him over the edge, didn’t compare to the anxiety he felt now.

“Untie me.”

She touched his chest but didn’t reach for the cuffs. “Marc, do you want to use your safeword or are you role-playing? Say ‘Lombardy’ if this is for real.”

The mention of his childhood home sent a bead of sweat rolling down his face and into his ear. He tried never to reveal deep emotions to anyone. Adam probably had dented Marc’s protective armor once or twice with his badgering, delving into the past as he tried to figure out Marc’s sometimes illogical motives and actions. But he couldn’t make himself that vulnerable again—not to a woman, anyway.

Again?

Where had that thought come from? He’d had a happy childhood, well, what he remembered anyway. He had no memory of his birth parents. Who wouldn’t want to grow up at a ski lodge in the Alps or in the Colorado Rockies with a family who loved him? He might not have been the favored son, but he’d been loved by Mama and Papa nonetheless.

Did his visceral response have something to do with Gino?

When they were kids, they’d been very close. Marc had worshipped his older brother until they reached their late teen years. That drifting apart was mostly Marc’s fault, as he became aware he wasn’t living up to his parents’ expectations for him the way Gino always had. Perhaps Gino just tried harder. Marc had let his emotions get the best of him when Gino took Melissa from him. He and his brother had barely spoken after that. Marc had pushed Gino into enlisting in the Marines, only to get killed in Afghanistan.

Marc didn’t want to think about those times. What the fuck was happening to him? Did he want to call this scene off? No. Angelina needed to know he trusted her. She needed this scene. He would continue. For her.

“Nothing’s wrong. You just confused me; that’s all.”

Confusion creased Angelina’s forehead. She tilted her head and studied his face. He didn’t care if she bought his lame explanation or not. The subject of his panic attack was not open for discussion, especially because he didn’t know where the hell it originated.

“What is Mistress going to do with me? Her boy disobeyed yet again.”

Angelina reclined beside him again, placing her arm over his chest and her leg over his hips without putting too much pressure on him, as if he’d break. She made such a lousy Domme.

Grazie, Dio.

She smiled and turned her face toward him, placing a kiss on his lips before moving away and staring into his eyes.

“Lombardy, Sir. I don’t want to play anymore. If I untie you, will you just let me hold you?”

No!
She’d used the safeword for him? Was she feeling sorry for him because he’d freaked out on her?

Keep your pity, pet. I’ll never give up control, not tonight or any other night, especially not to a woman.

He fought the impulse to run, as if he could go anywhere while in four-point restraints.

Maybe Angelina was projecting her own need to be held, which he would honor as soon as he regained control.

All he wanted was to run…again. Why?

Without waiting for him to respond, she reached up and ripped the Velcro open on the right cuff followed quickly by the left. His arms didn’t move much from their position at first, having been bound there so long. She bent over him and kneaded the muscles in his shoulders and upper arms until he was able to lower them.

Hold her.

He wrapped his arms around her, still struggling to fill his lungs.
Numb yourself.
He tried to shut down emotionally, but the overwhelming urge to run dominated his thoughts yet again. It always did.

He pulled her closer as if she was a lifeline and he a drowning man.

Angelina laid her head on his chest. “Shhh.” She stroked his chest.

He willed his heartbeat to slow down, not wanting to tip her off that he was still in fight-or-flight mode. As if she was too blind to notice. She wouldn’t have used their safeword if she thought he could handle continuing with the scene.

He inhaled deeply, feeling the familiar hitch in his side from old adhesions. Did this have something to do with post-traumatic stress from his combat wound?

No, he didn’t think so.

“Don’t forget the ankle restraints.”

She sat up quickly. “Sorry!” He enjoyed the view of her backside as she faced away and undid the cuffs.

Needing to reassert his control once she freed him, he sat up and wrapped his arms around her. He rolled her onto her back and rested his weight on his elbows as he stretched out on top of her. Some of his anxiety began to recede now that he was back where he belonged. He gazed down at her as she bit the corner of her lower lip. She was overthinking this. Before she let her old insecurities—

Wait
. He sounded as if
he
was the insecure one here.

Bullshit.
He’d gotten over that years ago.

She brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “Feeling better, Sir?”

“I told you, I’m fine. But you know I prefer being on top like this.”

She smiled, and he relaxed a little more. The woman could ease his fears with just a smile. No woman had done that for him before. Ever.

Certainly not Mama.

Holy shit!
Do
not
be thinking about your mother when you have a hot, sexy woman under you.

Too late. That thought certainly did nothing to help his struggling libido. Angelina wormed her hand between their bodies, and his cock sprang to life. He needed to focus on something he could control—like having sex with Angelina. She always knew what he needed.

“Did I give you permission to do that?” When she furrowed her brows in worry, he grinned and ground his cock against the juncture of her legs. She formed an O with her mouth before a smile lit her full lips. He relaxed even further.

Well, not everything relaxed this time, thank God.

“No, Sir. I guess I was experiencing some lingering effects of Domme headspace.”

He hoped she hadn’t gotten anywhere near being in the headspace he enjoyed so much with her. He’d much rather put her in subspace, where she belonged. Right now, the only thing he needed was to bury himself to the hilt inside her tight pussy. Marc bent down and kissed her, his tongue invading her sweet mouth. She held nothing back, tangling her tongue with his.

“Open for me, pet.”

She raised her knees, and he rubbed the tip of his cock against her very wet cleft. Playing Domme seemed to have turned her on. Luckily, he knew other ways to engage the submissive side of her, because the last thing he wanted was for his girl to get off on dominating him.

Needing to exert his control again, he drove himself into her with one thrust.

“Oh!”

What seemed like a flash of pain was replaced by her gasp for breath.
Merda
. He’d hurt her. Then she smiled.

“Oh, yessss!” Her eyes glazed over.

“You are not to come until I give you permission.”

She groaned, and his chest swelled. This sense of control was the best aphrodisiac he knew. Withdrawing almost completely, he charged home again. “Do. Not. Move.” He punctuated each word with another thrust of his cock as he drove himself home.

“Please let me come, Sir!”

Again and again he pistoned into her but refused to give her the release she sought. Not yet. Control. He was in control now.
He
would decide when she came.

As her screams and panting gasps sounded as if she was on the edge of pain, his cock pulsated. “Come, pet. Now.” She screamed her orgasm loud enough for half of Denver to hear. His own release soon followed.

Mine. Home.

He cuddled with her the way she liked until he could stand the messy condom no longer. He got up and went to the bathroom to discard it and clean up. Angelina had exposed huge chinks in his emotional walls tonight.