Independence: #2 Angel (4 page)

“Sweetheart, there is such a vast difference between the arrogant need to control a person’s life as opposed to you giving me your control and trust in the bedroom. I don’t think you realize the incredible gift it is for a dom to receive that kind of faith,” he explained smoothly, his voice low and carefully massaging her senses as easily as his hands now stroked up her forearms. “I would never want to take the fire or control from your life, pet. But guiding your pleasure…discovering mutual pleasure…that is very, very different.”

“You really are good with those words,” she finally answered when she was pretty sure her voice wouldn’t crack. She wasn’t sure when she started feeling warm, but she knew it had begun with his fingers on her wrists. She looked down to see the large, strong hands stroking along her arm and slowly pulled back, tucking them around her middle. “You said you’d show me around.”

“I said I would,” Colin stood up and offered his hand. Patiently waiting. “It’s part of the package, pet. You have beautiful skin and it begs to be touched.”

Chapter Three

Angel stared at the palm and heard all the words he’d spoken in the last hour replay themselves in her mind. For the first time in a long time, her past hadn’t cornered her and trapped her in its darkness. She slid her palm into his but turned it sideways with a little shake as she rose to her feet.

“Angel…my name.”

“Colin Whetstone,” he responded, giving her his full name and inviting her to trust. “You made the comment that you aren’t a submissive, Angel. Does that thought frighten you?”

“Why do you think I am?”

“Because while we were talking, I’d bet you didn’t let the idiots in your past come into your mind once,” he answered honestly. “Instead, you were focusing on the moment.”

“You have a compelling voice,” she admitted, her eyes widening a little when he lifted her palm, turned it over and kissed the back of her hand. She tried pulling back but froze when he caught her gaze and frowned, his head shaking just a bit. She stopped trying to pull free but couldn’t explain to herself why.

Colin watched the confusion and felt the arousal when he turned her palm over, his kiss now dropping into the soft center and trailing to her wrist and the rapidly beating pulse.

“You believe I’m hypnotizing you, Angel?” Humor filled his words, but he didn’t move and didn’t allow her to retreat.

“Rather like Dracula,” she murmured, surprised at the deep laughter that came from him.

“If that were the case, getting answers from you would be much easier than they are at the moment,” Colin kept her palm in his and took a step back, his gaze going from her head to the floor. “You are way overdressed.”

This time she did get her hand free and shoved them both into the pockets of her jeans. She looked around with widening eyes at the various types and stages of undress of the women and men throughout the area.

“I don’t have clothes like that.”

“We have a closet for just such an occasion,” Colin said without pausing. “But I’m not sure you’d trust me to dress you, Angel.”

“I look like a crazy person to you?” She said with a snort of laughter, her head shaking.

“Why did you really come to
Independence
, Angel?” Colin took a step closer, one corner of his mouth lifting when she stood her ground. He reached for her wrists, tugging gently until they came out of the pockets. “Would you follow orders if I gave them to you?”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because I believe you want that space where nothing else occupies your mind but my voice, my instructions. Do you know what a safe word is?” He waited. Slowly she nodded but he raised one eyebrow. “Words, Angel.”

“Yes. I know what the club safe word is and I know what they’re used for,” she answered quietly.

“Would you like a tour?” He asked abruptly, shifting topics and giving her time to consider all the information she’d been given so far.

“Yes, please.”

“Kelly? Would you bring me a bin?” He saw the instant hesitation and even a little resistance in Angel’s eyes.

“Yes, Sir,” the young waitress nodded and hurried off.

“A bin?”

“You have to lose the boots, Angel. Inside the club,” he gestured to the bench, keeping his smile in place when she sat. “This is not about someone controlling your life, Angel. I’m not a man who wants to make every decision in every corner of your life. The decisions I make would be for us, for our pleasure in a given context. Such as the club or our personal life.”

She frowned, but she remained seated.

He dropped to one knee and reached for her foot. She stiffened, immediately trying to jerk away and he stopped, his hand firmly around her ankle. He was eye level with her and he just stared and waited. It was interesting watching her wrestle with her own reactions. From what he’d observed, she was quite accustomed to people, especially men, backing away in frustration and even anger. She wasn’t used to dealing with patience.

Angel exhaled and relaxed her foot, her head tipped as she watched him unzip the knee length boot and pull it free. From somewhere, a plastic bin now sat on the floor, the waitress waiting patiently on her knees at his side, her hands behind her back and eyes lowered. One boot went into the bin along with the plain white socks before he moved onto the other boot.

“Cute,” Colin tapped one finger on the bright red toes before he stood up. “Put the bin in the front with my name on it, Kelly, thank you.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“They behave like servants.”

“Is there much difference between servants and staff?” He held out his hand, waiting. But he did notice the time he waited was becoming a little less each time. “The club pays well and only accepts people with the preference required to suit the lifestyle. No one is forced to do anything they don’t want here, Angel. The difference between the two lie in the behaviors expected of them when dealing with clients of the club. Their posture and manners are part of the lifestyle choice.”

Angel watched her own hand rise and go into his. Something she never would have done before and something that only made her stomach a little bit queasy. This time.

“Are you feeling sick?” Colin stopped her from rising, dropping to one knee and meeting her quickly averted gaze. “I asked a question, Angel.”

“A little…sometimes…”

“Did someone hurt you, Angel?” He watched the lowered eyes and waited. “I’d prefer you look at me than the floor when we speak. If I require something different of you, I’ll let you know in advance. You won’t have to guess. I’ll always make certain you know the rules. Do you understand?”

“Yes. I…watching how other people…yes, I understand.”

“You don’t like being touched…” But he stopped when he saw her eyes. “No. That isn’t it at all, is it? You don’t dislike my touching you. But touch makes you sick?” Colin studied her face for a long minute.

“I’m not used to it,” she finally admitted. “It…it isn’t you…the sick part…” she continued gazing into his eyes. And he was silent; waiting.

“But not just me,” he said thoughtfully. “No stories on your mother’s lap…wrestling with brothers and sisters?”

“My mother died when I was born. I never knew her. My…my step-mother didn’t like having me there. She gave my father sons and I was the only girl. My father wanted boys,” she repeated from memory. “They don’t touch unless…”

“It’s more than that,” Colin pressed gently, waiting while she brought her gaze back to his. “You were abused. And not only in the conventional sense.”

“How does this matter,” she snapped suddenly, tearing her gaze from his and looking around the room, past the dancers to the corridors and hints of things and people. Traces of noises that weren’t dance related drifted into the large dance chamber now and then.

“Because touch is vital to so many things,” Colin had a firm grip on her wrist, leading her past the edge of the dance floor and through the short connecting hall where the second chamber waited. He stopped once they were out of the path of people coming and going and backed her against the wall. Moving slowly, very carefully, he raised her arm above her head, reached for her other wrist and lifted it as well. He pressed his body along her side, keeping her trapped between him and the wall.

“It isn’t just me that…” he considered his choices. “Disturbs your stomach. So if it isn’t about me…an arrogant thought, don’t you think?” He teased and watched a hint of humor in her eyes, replacing the fear. “Then it must be something you were told that encompasses anyone who comes close to you. Even Bailey and Patsy.”

A brief flash of panic showed across her features and deep in her eyes. He knew she was fighting both him and herself and just hoped his instincts were correct.

He waited. Not moving. Not touching. Not releasing her wrists. The rapid rise and fall of her chest slowly eased, slipping to a more relaxed breathing pattern before he spoke again.

“Alright?”

“Why are you doing this?” Came the ragged whisper from parched lips, her gaze unable to move from his. “I didn’t ask…”

“You haven’t asked me to stop, either, Angelica,” he spoke quietly, a low sound that forced her to focus on him, on his lips and his words. Surprise flickered in her eyes. “You know the safe word. And I watched you. You know how to use it. But you haven’t.”

“Would you listen if I had?”

“You also know the rules. I’d have no choice. You knew this was a sex club, as you termed it, yet you came anyway,” Colin gradually shifted his body closer. He couldn’t hide the hard length of his cock and let it press against her thigh, a small smile on his lips when more than fear or confusion flashed in her eyes.

Perhaps it was arrogance, he wasn’t above labeling it that, but he saw a deep fire in her eyes and knew it had never been there for another man.

“Now…we were discussing touching. And its importance…and why you react so badly to it…from anyone…not just me or people on the dance floor.”

“I answered that one,” she tried shifting, tried moving to the side but his hands held her wrists and his body…she swallowed hard and tried not to think about the cock pressing against her thigh or how solid and warm his chest felt pressed against one of her breasts. Or how they’d suddenly become firmer and a little achy.

“I can’t imagine a little girl not climbing into her mother or father’s lap…” he stopped suddenly, her gaze torn away and lowered. “They taught you that it was a bad thing,” he said very slowly, his head shaking at the damage parents could do without a care to the outcome. She didn’t look up, her gaze on his throat as he spoke. “Not only are you unaccustomed to touch, they convinced you it was a bad thing. Oh, Angelica,” he whispered her name and bent his head, laying his cheek against her forehead. “They really did a number on you, pet.”

“I…am fine,” she said firmly. “I’m thirty-two years old. I have friends and I own my own business.”

“And passion? Touch?” Colin placed both her wrists in one large hand, the other going to the waist of her jeans and sliding very slowly higher along her ribs. He felt her breathing stop despite the hammering of her heart inside. The palm pressing along her side was firm; leaving no doubt in her mind she was being touched. He lifted it from her shirt just before coming in contact with her breast, rubbing the soft center of his palm over the nipple poking against the fabric.

Her mouth opened and a tiny gasp broke free. He didn’t know if she meant to call a halt or not, but he continued playing until she did.

He kept up the soft circling motion over her nipple, feeling it tighten a little more with each stroke. Colin was patient and waited for her eyes to meet his. It fascinated him that there was a mix of arousal and fear as well as embarrassment. What kind of message had they blended into a little girl looking for nothing more than a hug?

“Communication and honesty are a must, Angelica,” he spoke low, forcing her attention. “Do you like this feeling? Does it send hot little spikes through your body?” When she nodded, he shook his head and waited, watching as she brought her tongue out to drag moisture over her lips. “I don’t think I have to explain what it does to me. I can see fire in your eyes. You can feel what being near you like this does to me.”

“Yes. Oh, god, yes, it feels so good…”

“Honest and brave, little sub,” he murmured, taking it a step further and dropping his fingers to the button at the front of her jeans. “I want to wrap my tongue around that nipple and pull it deep into my mouth. I bet you taste like sugar and spices,” his fingers popped the button on her jeans free before sliding the zipper down. He stopped when her breathing hitched, her eyes impossibly wide. He placed his palm flat against her stomach, stroking gently over the fabric back and forth until he saw the hint of panic fade.

“I don’t know what you’ve read or heard. A Dom/sub relationship is just as varied as the weather outside our windows. It shifts and adjusts to the needs of each couple, each person inside that pair…and sometimes more than just two people,” he saw the flair of panic and knew he’d never want to share her in that sort of intimacy.

Angel supped in a breath when his flattened palm pressed over her stomach and into the front of her jeans. A sex club, she kept repeating. That was why she came here. She needed something. She wanted more but was afraid to go after it. She sent her mind to the light strains of the dance music, her eyes drifting closed as the touch of his fingers on the edge of her panties seemed to overwhelm her senses.

Then his palm stopped moving forward.

She knew what he wanted. Knew without asking and slowly opened her eyes, staring into the blue circles and feeling the flush of heat began in her cheeks and travel through her body.

“Good girl,” Colin murmured, his fingers continuing their soft stroking.

Colin put one foot between hers and nudged gently, the movement enough to loosen the tight apex of fabric between her thighs. His fingertips grazed the very shortly clipped down, stroking a light pattern from one thigh to the other and traveling over her mound in the path.

“Are you wet, Angelica?”

“Yes…I…I think so…”