She thought of protesting but belatedly realized she wasn’t permitted to do such things any longer. “Speaking of which, I didn’t thank you for tonight’s outfit. It’s beautiful, Nick. Especially the necklace. It, um, reminds me of -”
“A collar.” His fingers shot out and slipped beneath the gold choker, tugging on it. “Yes, that was the general idea. Though of course it’s more symbolic than anything. I won’t require you to wear it all the time, especially since you’ll be getting plenty of other jewelry from me.”
Angela set her fork down, relieved to notice she’d managed to eat all but a few bites of her admittedly delicious dinner. “About that. I’m really not all that comfortable with you -”
“Tough. Get used to it.” His voice was stern. “I told you that there will be a certain way I want you to look, depending on my mood, and I expect you to do as I ask. And the easiest way to make sure you do that is to hand pick what I want you to wear. Jesus, most women I know wouldn’t think twice about accepting expensive gifts.”
She shrugged helplessly. “I guess maybe it’s just going to take a little getting used to. Most of the guys I dated at Stanford expected me to pay for half of the meal even if we just went out for pizza. I’ve never been to even one restaurant this nice, much less three in under a week. As for the clothes and jewelry – until I started work a few weeks ago I pretty much lived in jeans or track pants and sneakers. I’m surprised I haven’t tripped and broken my neck in these heels yet.”
He laughed, his good humor restored. “You’ll get used to them, Angel. After all, those long, gorgeous legs of yours were made to wear stilettos. Now, not surprising that your idiot college boyfriends never sprang for a nice meal but why didn’t your parents? Is money an issue for them?”
She immediately felt a part of her shut down inside, like it always did when she was forced to discuss her family. “No. To both questions.”
Nick trailed a long finger down the bridge of her nose, over her lips and then to her chin, which he tipped up to meet his searing gaze. “You know that’s not going to be anywhere near enough to answer my questions. More details. Please.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him to go fuck himself, but then Angela realized that if she did so Nick would refuse to fuck
her
. Or even see her again. She sighed, already regretting the foolishness of her decision in coming here tonight, but reluctantly gave in to his demands.
“My parents are comfortably off. Not rich, definitely not mega-rich. My father was a contractor, built a bunch of multi-million dollar homes in Pebble Beach and Big Sur, including our own house in Carmel Highlands.”
“Hmm.” Nick finished off his wine. “So sounds like they could have easily afforded to take you to a nice restaurant once in a while. And aside from an annoying tendency you have to pick at your food – which I commend you for trying very hard to improve on this evening, by the way – you don’t have atrocious table manners or anything. So why didn’t your parents ever go to fancy restaurants? Especially since Carmel and Monterey are chock full of them.”
She eyed his empty wine glass longingly, wondering if she could somehow lick the dredges off the bottom. If she was going to be forced to talk about her family, she would have really, really preferred to be stinking drunk first.
“I never said they didn’t go to nice places. They just didn’t bring me with them. Before I was old enough to stay at home alone, I got dumped off with my grandmother or an aunt or one of my sisters. Or practically anyone my mother could pawn me off on.”
He gave a careless lift of his shoulders. “It’s not unusual for parents to want a date night every now and then.”
“Agreed. But they would go out to dinner and a movie at least once a week. Plus bridge nights, ballroom dance classes, Italian American lodge events, Junior League meetings, and probably half a dozen other groups or clubs they belonged to. Mostly my mother, though she dragged my father along most nights. Basically,” she summarized, “my mother refused to let the arrival of an unplanned baby interfere with all the plans she
had
made for her life. And I never got invited out to dinner with them because I would have been an unwanted reminder of how she’d had to put her life on hold for me.” She looked around the table frantically. “I really, really need a fucking drink right now.”
Nick didn’t argue, didn’t say a word, and merely beckoned the waiter over to order two glasses of the Pinot.
“Thank you,” she whispered, closing her eyes and trying desperately not to start crying. She hated talking about her cold, distant mother; hated remembering how unloved and lonely she’d always felt growing up; hated – her mother. And hated the fact that she’d always known the feeling was mutual.
“Here’s your wine, Angel. Drink up.”
She opened her eyes and accepted the glass, resisting the urge to bolt the whole thing down at once. Instead, she forced herself to take small, almost dainty sips.
“I’m sorry.”
Angela gave a little shrug at his apology. “I’m not the first person who had a fucked up childhood. I’m not sure which of us was happier when I left for college – me or my mother.”
“What about your father?”
She smiled faintly. “My dad’s a sweetheart, wouldn’t hurt a fly, but he’s – well, not to be incredibly crude, but he’s totally pussy whipped. He’s tall, like me, while my mom is almost a foot shorter, but he’s terrified of her, does whatever she says.”
This time she did bolt the rest of her wine, shuddering as it hit her stomach. Nick quietly took the glass from her.
“No more family horror stories tonight,” he declared. “I shouldn’t have pushed, Angel. Especially since the last thing I want to do tonight is upset you.”
“I’m just not used to talking about it,” she admitted. “The only people I’ve ever discussed my family with are my best friends.”
“The twins.”
“Yes.” She’d mentioned the McKinnon girls to him the other night. “They were more like sisters to me growing up than my own sisters. But that’s not so surprising considering mine are so much older than I am.”
Nick cocked his head. “I guess I didn’t realize that. How old are they?”
“Marisa is thirty-eight, Deanna is two years younger. They were sixteen and fourteen when I was born, and really not thrilled with the idea of having a new baby in the house. Or seeing their forty-something mother pregnant.”
“And now we’re talking about them again. Time to change the subject. What do you want for dessert?”
She made a little face. “Gee, you mean I actually get to choose?”
He pinched her cheek, a little too hard to be considered teasing. “Smart ass. Yes, you can choose. And speaking of your ass.”
Angela gasped as one of his big, warm hands slid up beneath her tight fitting dress until it reached her bare buttocks. She was grateful for both the dark, private corner their table was situated in as well as the heavy, opaque tablecloth that hid their lower bodies from view.
“Your skin is so soft,” he murmured close to her ear, his hand caressing her ass cheeks persuasively. “This is why I like the no-panty rule, so I can touch you this way whenever the urge takes me. And no matter what we might have for dessert, it won’t be the sweetest thing I’m going to eat tonight.”
“Ah, God.” Her head fell back weakly as he slowly thrust two fingers deep inside her wetness. A whimper escaped her throat as he continued to pump his fingers in and out of her body, his thumb rubbing circles around her clit.
“I could make you come right here, Angel,” he whispered seductively. “You’re already close, I can tell. I could have this tight, juicy cunt convulsing around my fingers in less than a minute.”
She gasped in protest as he slowly removed his fingers, only to bring them to his mouth and very deliberately lick them dry. His dark eyes were gleaming and the smile he gave her was devilish.
“But I like to savor my dessert,” he purred. “To save the best for last. And you’re the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted. Now, have you ever had cherries jubilee? They serve it here for two and it’s incredible.”
Angela’s whole body was quivering in reaction, having been brought tantalizingly close to orgasm, only to have it deliberately denied. Meanwhile, Nick had once again smoothly changed the subject, was even now beckoning the waiter over to order his damned cherries jubilee and coffee. He smiled at her knowingly as the waiter left to get their order.
“Something wrong, Angel? You seem a little fidgety.”
She glared at him. “And whose fault is that? Couldn’t you at least have finished what you started? Now I’ll be -”
“Anticipating how good it’s going to feel when I fuck you in less than an hour?” he asked rather matter-of-factly. “Sometimes when you have to wait for something, Angel, you appreciate it more. Not to mention we still need to do a lot of work on your control. Or, more accurately, your complete lack of it.”
“I could just go into the ladies room, you know, and take care of the, ah, situation by myself,” she challenged, lifting her chin bravely.
“Don’t you dare.” He clamped his hand around her upper arm ferociously. “One more rule I forgot to mention, Angel – you don’t get to have an orgasm unless I give it to you and not until I say it’s time.”
“Fine.” She crossed her arms across her chest sullenly and tried to ignore the throbbing between her thighs. “Tell me, how many other rules did you forget to mention last night?”
Nick gave her an unholy grin. “Oh, I’m sure there’ll be plenty more. Maybe I should have just told you the truth – that I expect you to obey everything I ask of you. In fact, if I had just told you that to begin with, we could have saved ourselves a lot of time last night. Ah, here’s our coffee.”
Angela honestly didn’t think she needed the extra stimulation the caffeine would provide, not when she was already so tightly strung that she felt like screaming. Some calming herbal tea might have been a better choice, but then she hadn’t been given the opportunity to actually choose. Part of her felt like defying Nick and asking the waiter for some chamomile, but another part remembered the bit about picking and choosing her battles, and in the overall scheme of things this one was awfully small.
By the time they finished dessert and he’d paid the bill, it was over an hour later, and she was a virtual bundle of nerves by then, small wonder considering how often Nick had touched and caressed her teasingly, deliberately. His long, talented fingers had brushed over almost every inch of exposed skin on her body, and hadn’t been content to stop there – sliding his hand beneath the short hem of her close-fitting dress to caress her thigh or hip or buttocks. She’d been shocked speechless when he’d leaned over her, shielding her body from anyone who might see them, and slipped his hand inside the low neck of her dress to cup her breast and rub his thumb over the nipple.
“Let’s get out of here,” he’d whispered after putting his credit card away. “I really, really need to fuck you, Angel. It’s all I’ve been able to think about since I left you on Tuesday, and I’m not a man who’s used to denying himself.”
There was very little traffic en route to her apartment, a fortunate state of affairs since Nick drove fast enough that she couldn’t stop herself from clutching the seat in fear. At one point he glanced over at her and grinned.
“Relax. I’m not about to get us killed. Or get pulled over for a speeding ticket. But I am – let’s call it
anxious
– to get you upstairs. By the way, I’m going to buy you a frame for that bed of yours. Headboard and footboard. I’ll let you know when it will be delivered.”
“What?” She stared at him in bewilderment. “I mean, why?”
The smile he gave her was satanic. “So I can spread you out and tie you up, of course. Oh, did I forget to mention the frame will have slats? Gives us more flexibility, so to speak.”
Angela was equal parts alarmed and aroused at the images his lightly teasing words invoked. “Um, you’re kidding, right? Because we talked about that stuff and you said -”
“I said I wasn’t into pain and punishment or humiliation,” he corrected. “But there’s a lot to be said for some light bondage and a blindfold once in a while.”
“Define light.”
Nick’s laugh was wicked, maybe even crossing over the line into evilness. “Ah, interested, are we? Well, my naughty Angel, my definition of light would include silk ropes or scarves, maybe some leather cuffs – lined, of course. In other words, no chains or ropes or anything else that could chafe this beautiful skin.”
He picked up her hand and drew it to his mouth, his lips caressing the tender skin of her inner wrist. “Trust me, hmm? Tying you to the bed – binding your hands and feet so you can’t move, then blindfolding you – it’s more than just giving me control over you. It’s about you giving me your trust so that I can give you pleasure, can focus solely on you.”
She closed her eyes, too overcome with everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours to cope with even one more thing right now. “Maybe,” she whispered.
He squeezed her hand reassuringly. “No rush, Angel. We’ll get there. Speaking of which, here’s your place.”
They were barely inside her apartment, had just closed and locked the door, before Nick shoved her up against the wall almost violently, her head falling back against the hard wood surface. Almost before she could take a breath, he’d sunk to his knees and pushed her dress up above her waist, sucking her clit between his lips.