“Let me help you up.”
Marc’s erection pressed against her stinging butt and the plug he’d just placed inside her as he bent over her to lift her up. On her feet, she swayed as blood drained from her head. He caught her by her elbows and smiled down at her.
She felt as if she had a stick up her butt. How was she supposed to wear it all night? She looked down at the floor next to the kneelers to see a flogger similar to the one Allen had used. How had Marc had managed to make it feel so much better? Next to it lay a miniature version of the flogger with a leather-bound handle and blue-colored leather strips, each about six inches, long protruding from one end. Lying there, it seemed as innocuous as a feather duster. Only she knew it was capable of extreme pain. This must have been what he used on her clit.
But what had delivered those final, softer blows? A leather bag lay open beside where Marc had been, filled with any number of objects she probably didn’t want to know about. Laying on top was a red, fuzzy heart-shaped paddle. She giggled. It had to be the silliest thing she’d ever seen. No wonder those blows had resulted in only pleasure, no pain.
“I didn’t think I could use anything else for those last two,” Marc said, brushing the hair back from her eyes. She looked up at him. “I’m so proud of you, pet. That was an intense punishment…for both of us...and you took it very well.”
She’d forgotten he didn’t enjoy punishing her and felt badly she’d put him in a position to have to deliver yet another one. She hoped this would be the last.
He brushed away tears from her cheeks she wasn’t even aware she had shed.
Marc’s hands then rubbed her heated butt cheeks, his hands cool against her flesh. Her muscles clenched around the plug. Chill bumps rose, causing her butt to sting even more. Standing on tiptoes, she placed a kiss on his lips. “Thank you, Marc. That was incredible.” The look of surprise on his face was priceless.
“Come, pet. I need to cuddle.”
He took her hand and guided her to the front of the loveseat, where he sat down and pulled her onto his lap. She still wore the wrist and ankle cuffs, but actually liked the way they felt.
“Oh!” The plug pressed against his thigh as she sat on his lap. He smiled as he pulled a blanket from a basket at the other end of the loveseat. She hadn’t realized she was cold until he wrapped it around her and pulled her against his chest.
Home.
Safe.
“Don’t worry. You’ll hardly know the plug’s there after a couple hours.”
Yeah, right
.
She felt the warmth of his body surrounding her. All she wanted right now was to be held in his arms again. To be safe. Loved.
Whoa!
Nobody said anything about love. This was lust. Discipline. Sex.
Nothing more.
Chapter Twenty
“Karla, it looks great!” Angelina watched as her new student pulled the thermometer from the Florentine roast pork and put the pan back into the stainless-steel gas range. “Won’t be long now.”
While Karla wiped down the jade-green granite countertop, Angelina surveyed Marc’s kitchen. State of the art didn’t begin to describe this place. The expensive countertop material covered a number of surfaces around the room—from the appliance island to under the cabinets. What it would be like to work in a kitchen like this every day, rather than the tiny one she used now.
The island contained the gas stove and a wide prep space. On the back side was a second tier of granite countertop and three bar stools. What a great place to cook and entertain at the same time. The appliances all were stainless steel and professional grade. What a crime this phenomenal room hardly looked as if it had been touched.
“Adam’s not going to believe how much I’ve improved with just one lesson.” Karla’s blue eyes sparkled. The change in her just since she’d first met her a month ago, when she was still reeling from the recent death of her brother, was quite noticeable.
“You’re a fast learner. We should go shopping for some cookbooks that will give you lots of ideas after I go back home.”
Karla reached out to squeeze Angelina’s hand. “I’m going to miss having you around. It gets kind of lonely at Adam’s place when the club isn’t open. Adam…kinda sticks to himself most of the time.” She glanced away and Angelina could see how much that disappointed her. “I know he’s just busy managing the club. Damián and…his other partner aren’t around as much to help as they used to be, from what I gather.”
“Let’s face it, guys just don’t have a clue how social we women are.”
Angelina looked at the clock—almost five. Still plenty of time to work on the salad, with two pair of hands. Angelina went to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of wine, along with the bowls of vegetables they had washed earlier.
“Might as well relax with a glass while we work on the salad.” She found the wineglasses and poured them each a generous amount before they sat down on the bar seats with the tomatoes, carrots, cauliflower, lettuce, spinach, and other items they’d purchased at the market this morning.
Karla’s interest in Adam certainly hadn’t waned. Maybe Angelina could orchestrate something to get them together.
“Are you still curious about BDSM, Karla?”
The woman’s alabaster skin flushed a pretty pink. Karla looked over at her with a confused expression on her face and reached for the carrots and a paring knife. “The jury’s still out on that one. So, you were pretty quiet last night after you came upstairs.”
Angelina felt a blush of her own start in her neck and crawl up over her cheeks. “Yeah, it wound up being later than I expected. I fell asleep in his lap. Actually, I think maybe we both fell asleep.” Waking up to find his arms still wrapped around her, and the soft snore coming from him, she’d felt disoriented at first. When she raised up off his chest, he awoke and was at full alert with a speed she’d never witnessed before. Must be his military training. One thing led to another and…
“If you don’t mind me asking, did it hurt much?”
For a moment, Angelina wasn’t sure what she was referring to. The things she remembered best about last night were being strapped to the post and flogged in such a sensual way. The mind-blowing orgasms he’d given her while draped over the armrest. And the ones he’d given her while stretched out on the loveseat.
“You mean the punishment?”
“Any of it. Everything about it looks so painful.”
How could she explain it to a novice? This wasn’t her area of expertise, for certain. She’d heard BDSM described with the expression “hurts so good,” but that just didn’t give her a clue until she’d met Marc.
“Karla, I think it’s something you have to experience yourself. Yeah, some of it starts out painful, but then, something clicks in your brain and all of a sudden, you’re hypersensitive and so…horny, you can’t stand not being touched or spanked or flogged or whatever he wants to do to you.” Heat pooled in her lower abdomen. “Have you ever fantasized about anything you’ve seen at the club or read about?”
Her cheeks grew redder before she grinned and replied. “Ropes. Being tied. Not
to
something. Just tied. Adam did a demonstration once with Grant.” A pained expression crossed her face at the mention of whoever Grant was, but the sparkle returned quickly. Obviously, she was thinking about whatever Adam had done to the sub. “My stomach just went ka-thunk. It was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Almost like art. The knots. The way he wrapped her breasts, restrained her arms behind her. Oh, my!” Karla released a nervous laugh and reached for her wineglass and took a large swallow. After taking a deep breath, she smiled at Angelina and shrugged, as if embarrassed about what she’d shared.
“No, Karla, don’t be ashamed of it. That’s it exactly. I think for me, too, it’s more about giving up control than it is about pain. Being restrained. Having a Dom read your body’s responses like a book and know just what you need. I’m sorry I can’t explain it better, but I’ve certainly changed my mind about it in the last few days. I am definitely submissive.”
“Ah, music to my ears,
cara
.”
Angelina’s heart thudded against her chest and she looked up to see Marc standing in the doorway smiling at her with more than a bit of arrogance. The man needed a bell around his neck so he couldn’t keep sneaking up on her like that. She blushed, even though Marc already knew exactly what she was. Somehow admitting it aloud to him made it more real.
Made her more vulnerable to him. This man could hurt her, because he wasn’t one to commit to anything more than the present. Wait! I don’t want anything more than that either. So, in that way, we’re perfect for each other. She smiled.
Marc smiled, too, as if he’d just read her mind. “Something smells wonderful.”
She dragged her attention back to the kitchen. “Karla’s a wonderful cook.”
“Angelina’s an awesome chef and teacher.”
“And, Marc, if the offer to put me into culinary bondage is still open, I’ll be your slave for life. Just chain me to your oven anytime.”
Marc grew tense and she realized how he might have taken her words as asking for more from him. “I didn’t mean…”
“Where’s Adam?”
“Right behind you.” Adam walked under the brick archway and into the kitchen.
Angelina watched Marc visibly relax. Oh, maybe she’d misread his change of mood. Marc probably had asked Adam to be her body guard, which would explain why they hadn’t been able to shake him all day. Clearly, Marc hadn’t forgotten about Allen. Well, he needed to, because she would be going back home, alone, on Saturday night—or Sunday morning at the latest. She could take care of herself.
She didn’t want to think about why the thought of leaving Denver bothered her. And then she tamped down those thoughts with an idea that might help her new friend with her own relationship. Angelina turned to Karla and apologized silently for not clearing this with her ahead of time, but her grandmother had always told her to strike while the iron was hot. Okay, she didn’t want to think about hot steel in connection with BDSM, but…
Angelina turned back to Marc and Adam. “Karla and I were just discussing how much we’d like a demonstration after dinner of the finer points of restraining someone with ropes. Would either of you happen to have any rope—and expertise in that area?”
Marc smiled. Adam growled. And Karla reached for her wineglass again and drained it.
* * *
Allen tailed Denton from his townhouse. Angelina wasn’t with him. Maybe she was with the other one—the Italian. He hoped Denton would lead him to her soon, because he’d spent the day driving in circles trying to catch a glimpse of her at the home of one of these two men.
As they entered the ritzy neighborhood of McMansions, Allen’s anger grew. When he’d seen where D’Alessio lived this morning—a fucking mansion surrounded by towering spruce and fir trees, totally secluded—he’d figured out what she saw in that one, at least. A dollar sign. The man was born to money, according to the research Allen had done. He hadn’t had to work hard every day of his life, unlike Allen who had to carve out a niche, building a business from the ground up.
All women cared about was landing a rich man so they wouldn’t have to work or support themselves. Well, Allen might not be as rich as this guy, but he could offer Angie a damned comfortable life. His business was growing, too. Of course, it would be good if he were back home overseeing it now, rather than having to chase her down all over Denver to get her to realize he was the perfect man for her. The perfect Dom.
When Denton pulled into the familiar driveway, Allen noticed a Harley and a Ford pick-up truck in front of the garage that hadn’t been there this morning. Was there some kind of party tonight? He could just imagine Angie servicing all the men at a private kink party. She might have played innocent with him, but he knew she liked it rough.
Soon, very soon, he would give her just what she wanted.
* * *
Marc had avoided eye contact with Angelina throughout dinner. He’d been excited to hear she wanted to try rope bondage tonight, but her mention of being his slave, even the joking way she’d said it, worried him.
He wouldn’t be trapped into a relationship he didn’t want. If she wasn’t content with a casual Dom/sub relationship, then he needed to make tracks and soon. Maybe he could steer her in the direction of Luke as the evening progressed. Marc had no interest in the baggage that came with Italian women, always wanting drama, babies, commitment.
Who’d said anything about babies?
Marc could feel the noose tightening around his neck. But her next words opened the door for his escape.
“So, which of you gentlemen would let me practice rope tricks on you?”
Rope tricks? Obviously, this was some kind of game to her. She’d never been restrained with Shibari, the Japanese martial arts form of rope bondage took the skill to the level of art. But none of the men at the table seemed anxious to take her up on the idea. Big surprise there. Then she homed in on Luke.
“How about you, Luke? Being from Texas, you must have been around a lot of rope.” She winked at him.
“Well, like the other men here, I’ve usually been the one doing the tying, not being tied, Angel.” To say Marc was surprised by his friend’s words would be an understatement. “Maggie, my wife, and I did enjoy playing with ropes. But she did do the tying a time or two. I’d be honored to let you practice on me.”
Shit
. The man had been holding out on him. Maybe this was what he’d needed to get Luke and Angelina together. So, then why did the thought of throwing her at his friend bug the hell out of him? When he’d thought them incompatible, he hadn’t had a problem with it. Now that there might actually be something that could bind them together, so to speak, he was less interested in pushing her in that direction.
But he was getting too damned attached to her. Too comfortable. Falling asleep with her in the club last night surprised the hell out of him. He’d never trusted a woman enough to allow himself to be that vulnerable.