Flashback (3 page)

His desire was palpable.

“You never told me how you came to be in the
house that night.”

“I followed you home.” He pushed aside her
hair and touched his lips to her neck, sending a shiver through her
body. “I was obsessed with you.” His hot lips touched the curve of
her breast. “And I knew that you were just as obsessed with
me.”

Athena couldn’t say a word.

“Admit it,” he demanded, his tone hard.

Athena nodded.

“I knew it,” he whispered and swept his lips
across her nipple. Athena ached for more than that fleeting touch.
She closed her eyes, surrendering to desire. “I knew that you were
the one for me.”

The Count pushed the blouse back off her
shoulders, spun her around to remove it and cast it aside. Even
though it was sheer and hardly a warm garment, Athena shivered
slightly.

“To go out in the night in such a blouse,” he
murmured, then clicked his tongue. He strolled around her and
Athena inhaled sharply when she saw that he was drawing a pair of
black leather gloves out of his pocket. He smiled as he pulled them
on to his hands.

Slowly.

Just like before.

Athena’s blood was simmering.

“You were born to be bad,” he said
softly.

“Maybe I was born to be disciplined..”

“I’ve often thought as much.” He inhaled
deeply. “I can smell you, you naughty puss,” he said, his voice as
silken as black velvet. The words were exquisitely familiar, and
Athena felt oddly relieved. She knew her lines. She knew her role.
She knew what would happen next. “Now I want to see you. Display
yourself to me.”

“Just like the first time?”

“Just like the first time, little dove.” His
voice hardened. “Now.”

Athena reached back and unfastened the zipper
at the back of her skirt. She pushed it down, letting it fall to
the ground, and kicked it aside. She remembered pulling her cotton
nightgown over her head at her grandmother’s command, remembered
how the Count’s eyes had gleamed at the sight of her nudity.

They gleamed now. She wore no panties, just
black lace garters that hooked to the bottom of her corset. The
Count’s nostrils flared at the sight and Athena’s heart
pounded.

“Should I unlace it?” she asked, because she
hadn’t worn such a garment then.

“No,” he said, his word no more than an
exhalation. “No. Let me see the feast you have become.” He reached
out and captured one breast in his hand. He cupped it, gave it a
little squeeze, then bent to flick his tongue across the taut
peak.

Athena melted at the pleasure of his
touch.

“Naughty Athena,” he whispered, then he bit
that nipple gently. When he closed his mouth over her and locked
his hands around her waist, it was as if he couldn’t control
himself. Athena shuddered at his impatience. She was his possession
for this night, his slave, his little dove and his focus. In that
instant, she wanted nothing else.

She leaned back, arching her back and feeling
her hair cascade down her back. None of this was her
responsibility. All was up to the Count. Relief fed her desire,
making everything simple for once. The Count nibbled her nipple,
then laved it and kissed it, the combination of sensations sending
increasing waves of desire through Athena. She was glad he was
holding her waist, because her knees were weakening.

She was supple. She could be molded. She was
his to shape and to train.

His little dove.

The Count suddenly suckled her with greater
intensity, and she braced her hands against his shoulders, fighting
the urge he could summon so easily. He stepped away and slapped her
hip, startling her with his disapproval.

“Hands behind your back,” he snapped and she
did what she was told, clasping her hands together. “Did you have
permission?”

“No, master.”

“Do as you’re told, Athena.” He caught her
around the waist again, bending her backwards as he kissed the
other nipple. His caress became more fierce, his touch punishing
her for her mistake, and Athena welcomed the correction.

Both nipples were tight, wet and aching when
he lifted his head. Athena’s sex was throbbing. He held her waist
and considered her with satisfaction for a moment before stepping
back. His eyes were colder, now, the precision of his manner
exciting her even more. He was the machine who had disciplined her
before, the one who acknowledged no pleas for mercy, the one who
drove her to higher and higher heights.

The master who was only satisfied with
perfection.

She’d never known another like him.

“Get it,” he commanded.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she lied and
the Count reached out quickly. He pinched her nipple hard. Athena
gasped. Pain and pleasure. He always had the balance just right.
The leather of his glove was smooth and soft, the gesture fierce
enough to bring tears to her eyes. He caressed her nipple then,
running his thumb across it gently, leaving her wavering on her
feet. The exchange put her back in the moment, filled her with the
rebellion he had both fostered and tried to discipline out of
her.

The rebellion that had made their scenes so
satisfying.

“Get it,” he repeated.

“No.” Defiance came naturally to Athena, just
as it had before.

The Count’s eyes flashed and he seized her by
the waist. Before she could struggle, he had flung her over a
velvet ottoman. By the time Athena was on her feet, he had opened
the hidden cabinet again. He seized a pair of leather shackles,
jammed the black riding crop into his belt, and came after her, his
intent clear.

Athena was more excited than she’d been in
years.

“You’ll have to catch me to teach me your
rules,” she taunted, running to the door that led to the
corridor.

“It will be my pleasure,” he said darkly as
he strode after her. His steps were measured, his discipline
inevitable.

Athena’s heart raced and her mouth went dry.
She turned the knob but the door was locked. She spun, her back
against it, watching as he stalked toward her.

“There is no escape,” he murmured and Athena
knew it was true. “We both know why you came tonight and why you
always choose to be bad. You invite me to discipline you.” The
Count spoke in a low voice, one rich with threat, taking his time
in approaching her. “Don’t play games, little dove.”

“I don’t play games.” She edged along the
wall, her heart hammering and her sex pulsing.

Anticipation lit his expression.

Hunger.

Of course. It would be just like the first
time, all over again. Knowing what would happen, what he would do
to her, didn’t diminish the moment.

If anything, knowing what came next only
increased the thrill.

This was a hunt, one that could only end one
way.

To their mutual satisfaction.

Would he bind her hands or her ankles? How
much would he tie her down before he used the crop? Or would he
simply command her to be still? The first time, he had trussed her
helpless, but later he had simply commanded her obedience.

He would truss her this time. She knew
it.

She wanted it.

Athena was more breathless than she wanted to
be, less composed, hotter and wetter than expected. All the years
that she’d disciplined others fell away, leaving this experience
raw and new.

The Count had barely touched her and she was
ready to surrender anything to him, to do anything for him. He was
like a weakness in her blood.

Or maybe he was destined to be in her
life.

To command her forever.

The idea weakened her knees.

“You are mine tonight, little dove,” he
whispered, opening the shackles. “Perhaps this time, your captivity
will last for all time.”

“No!” Athena protested, because it was her
line.

“We both know what you want and what you
need.” It was mesmerizing to watch his gloved hands, but Athena
only pretended to be snared by the sight.

In the meantime, she was betting that the
house was exactly the same as her grandmother’s house, in every
single detail. She remembered what she had done that night, and
didn’t doubt that the Count remembered as well.

She had to follow the script.

Athena suddenly lunged for the panel beside
the fireplace, the one that hid a secret staircase in her
grandmother’s house. The Count, as always, was quick. She was only
halfway there when he was on her. He tossed her on the sofa, rolled
her and shackled her hands behind her back with lightning
speed.

He was straddling her, the strength of his
thighs holding her captive. Athena struggled with all her might,
but he simply watched her. It was exhilarating to be his captive,
so exciting that she feared she’d come before he permitted her to
do so. She had to struggle to prove to herself that she was
bound.

“Lovely even in distress,” he murmured, then
turned her to her back and caught her chin in his gloved hand.
Athena was caught between him and the sofa, which was upholstered
in smooth damask but had hard cushions. His hand was hard inside
the smooth leather, a combination that made her dizzy. She felt his
erection and his determination when he bent over her.

“You were being bad on purpose,” he accused
softly.

“I wouldn’t do that,” she insisted, then
added on impulse. “I’m a good girl.”

He laughed, then kissed her with force. Her
breasts were crushed against his chest, her hips pinned beneath
his, his grip relentless on her chin. She could smell his skin and
the heat of his body, and the way his body thrummed against hers.
His tongue was between her teeth, his kiss both punishing and
seductive. He was claiming her and Athena loved it. She struggled,
knowing her movements would drive them both wild, and felt him get
even harder.

When he lifted his head, they were both
breathless. “You are bad, and I’m the only one who knows how to
give you what you need. You are mine, and always have been. Admit
the truth, little dove.”

Athena’s lips parted beneath the intensity of
his gaze, but no sound came out. She was caught between wanting to
please him with the submissive answer, and wanting to make the
scene hotter with her defiance. The Count’s eyes flashed, he swore,
then bent and kissed her hard. This kiss was hotter than the last,
savage and hungry, their tongues dueling as Athena kissed him back.
She waited until she felt him relax just an increment, then she
moved her knee upward.

The Count flinched.

Athena rolled.

She was out from beneath him and running to
that panel. She had to turn around backwards to open in with her
hands since they were bound behind her. She saw that he was already
on his feet, his expression that of a predator faced with a
challenge.

Athena found the lever, depressed it and
smelled the cellar when the door opened behind her. She ducked into
the darkness and ran up the stairs, hoping against hope that both
houses were just the same.

“Naughty, naughty,” the Count said, a chuckle
in his voice. “Wait until I catch you, little dove.”

Athena heard the sound of a riding crop
striking a gloved palm and nearly fainted in anticipation. She
forced herself to run, knowing the reward would be more than worth
it.

If she came too soon, he’d discipline her
forever.

In that moment, she couldn’t decide whether
it would be better to be good or bad.

* * *

Chapter Two

Eric watched Joanna, apparently amused by her
uncertainty. “Lucky for you, Mike prefers you, and he likes you
submissive, right?”

Joanna nodded. That much was clear.
“Vulnerable, feminine, corseted tight.”

“Always?”

She started to agree, then remembered. “No.
Once I jumped him.”

“Really?” Eric sat up straighter, clearly
interested in this. “What did you do?”

“He was sleeping and I was afraid that I was
too boring for him.” Joanna felt herself blush at the admission,
but felt a strange compulsion to admit it all. “So I tied him down
and sat on his face.”

“And what did he think?”

“We never talked about it.”

Eric shook his head and leaned closer. His
voice dropped low. “What did his body tell you, Joanna? Dicks don’t
lie.”

She licked her lips, remembering. “He loved
it.” She glanced up to find Eric watching her mouth and looked
away, uncomfortable. She couldn’t be turning him on. The way out of
this was to turn him
off
. “He was insatiable that day. He
had the erection that would not die.”

“He always liked being overcome,” he mused.
Joanna was relieved when he turned away to pace the room. “Not as a
routine thing, but once in a while, to mix things up.”

“I don’t understand.”

“We call it a switch. Mike prefers to be
dominant, but playing the same games all the time gets a bit dull.
Mixing it up, especially by surprise, can keep things fresh for
some players. Maybe being submissive is losing its appeal to
you.”

“Maybe it is,” Joanna agreed on impulse.

Eric grimaced. “I was afraid of that.” He
heaved a sigh as Joanna realized how she could escape this
situation. “So, when you jumped him, I’ll bet he just about blew
his load immediately.”

Joanna nodded, remembering how excited Mike
had been. “So, I should do it again?”

“Don’t you think you should punish him for
fucking up your relationship?” Eric began to count items on his
fingers. “No safeword. No discussion before a major change. And a
plain old bad choice in surrendering you to me. This could have
screwed things up between you forever.” He shook his head with mock
concern. “I’m thinking he should pay big.”

Joanna couldn’t help but smile. “And you’re
thinking he’ll love it.”

“I know he will.” Eric stepped back and
considered her. “The problem is that you have things to learn.”