Nobody's Angel (24 page)

“What’s going on in your head? Talk to me, pet.”

“Let me go. I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“I do. You haven’t gotten to the core of what’s bothering you. What happened when the pain left.”

“Please, Sir. Don’t make me say it.”

Marc pulled her against his chest, even though she tried to keep her distance. “Shhh. I have you.” He began stroking her back again.

His words brought her back into the club scene even more intensely. She wanted to forget what happened next. Her fingers idly stroked the black hairs on his forearm. So like the angel in her dream. But the dream lover seemed more real now. He hadn’t just been in her dream, had he?

“He stopped beating me and took me off the cross.”

Marc tensed. “Who took you off the cross?”

“I don’t know! Allen?” She tried to remember, but that didn’t sound right. Marc’s hand had stopped stroking her back and she missed the contact. “I don’t think that’s right. I was floating. Euphoric. It was like…heaven.”

“That’s called subspace.”

“No, because if I was in subspace, that means I enj…” She couldn’t finish the sentence.

“Not necessarily. There are levels. Some subs can be abused to a point where they go too deep into subspace. That’s not a good thing, especially for someone so new to scening like you.”

“It felt so good at first. I was floating. Looking down on my body. Someone held me.” Her fingers stopped pulling gently on his forearm hairs. “But it wasn’t Allen. He had dark hair. He held me like you’re doing.”

“That’s called aftercare. Subs and bottoms give so much of themselves when they relinquish control that their Doms need to slowly ease them back into reality after a scene.”

“Pain returned with a vengeance. Oh, God! It hurt so badly and he wouldn’t let me escape him or the pain. He forced me to feel it.”

“I’m sure he wanted to keep you from hurting yourself,
cara
. What then?”

“I can’t say.”

“Angelina.”

“Please don’t make me admit it. It’s too humiliating.”

“What happened, pet?”

She knew from experience he wouldn’t stop until she admitted everything. Suddenly angry—at Allen, at Marc, at her angel dream lover even—she pushed away from his chest and met his gaze.

“I came! He didn’t even touch me…not at first, anyway. And I came.” Her face burned as hot as did her butt. “Oh, God, Marc. I am a pain slut.” She pressed her face against his bare chest, no longer wanting him to look at her. Deep wracking sobs tore through her.

“What did the man who was holding you do?”

His words broke through her sobs and she pulled away. “I don’t remember.” And then she saw the image she’d seen from the vantage point of the ceiling again. He pushed the blankets aside. His hand had gone between the folds of the blanket and… “He touched me.”

“Where did he touch you?”

“My clit. My… Oh, my! He’s the reason I came. Not the pain. He stroked me until I came.”

“Yes, he did.”

Thrilled that he believed her, she pulled back and he wiped the tears away with the pad of his thumb. She grabbed a tissue and blew her nose very indelicately. Then she smiled. “Yes. He did.” She giggled.

Maybe she wasn’t a pain slut, after all.

“I’m convinced you aren’t a masochist. You wouldn’t enjoy intense pain. If you negotiate a scene in the future, make sure your Dom knows that. There are lots of Doms, myself included, who don’t like to administer pain either. While I don’t think the Dom who abused you would have stopped without the intervention of…whoever stopped the scene, clubs have dungeon monitors to keep an eye on things so they don’t get out of hand. The DM should have gotten to you sooner.”

He looked away for a moment, then returned his gaze to hers. His look of sadness, no more like regret, really touched her. He took the responsibility of being a Dom very seriously and almost seemed to be apologizing for the actions of others who didn’t.

“Promise me you won’t put yourself in a position like again, Angelina, unless the Dom has won your trust—one hundred percent. No exceptions.”

“I promise, Sir.” Oh, why couldn’t he be her Dom? “But there won’t be any more Doms for me.”

He smiled. “Never say never, pet. You’re a sexual submissive. You’re going to crave giving up control—again and again. It’s not something you can just turn off like a faucet.” He paused and looked down at her breasts. “Now, your Dom for the night isn’t finished. There’s the matter of completing your punishment.”

The word “punishment” had a visceral effect on her. Her heart thudded once against her chest and then stopped. She forgot to breathe. Marc stood, lifting her in his arms, then lay her down lengthwise in the middle of the bed. She winced as pain radiated from her sore bottom, reminding her of the first part of her punishment. She lifted her hips off the bed to avoid direct contact. Without a word, he rolled her over onto her stomach and pulled the comforter away to expose her burning backside to the cool air.

“Don’t move.”

She heard him walk into the bathroom, run water, and soon he was climbing onto the bed beside her. The cold washcloth lay against her burning flesh, causing her to jump.

“Lie still.” Her insides clenched at the command, then she forced herself to relax. He removed the wet cloth and dried her off with a soft towel. His fingers applied a cold substance to the places that stung most. Oh, God, don’t let it be whatever he had used on her clit earlier because she didn’t think she could stand to have her butt burning any more than it already did. But his tender ministrations actually removed some of the sting from her bottom.

“If I had my toy bag, I could have used lido to remove the burn, but aloe vera should work, too.”

He blew cool air over her damp skin, causing chill bumps to rise, which, unfortunately, only made her buttocks hurt again, like gooseflesh on sunburned skin. Tears flowed again, not from the pain this time. Rather, the gentle way in which he took care of her. She kept her face averted, too mortified to have him see her emotional response.

She heard him pop the lid of the lotion shut, then his firm hands glided over her back, raising more gooseflesh. When he touched her sides, she jumped.

“You and your damned ticklish spots.”

She grinned and relaxed again. His hands became even more firm and he focused solely on her upper back. When he massaged her bruised shoulders, she groaned in pain.

“I’m sorry,
bella.
I forgot.” He bent down and brushed his lips over the bruises, slightly abrading the tender skin, and her hips bucked upward in response.

He placed his warm hands under her and rolled her over. She blinked as she looked up at him, searching her eyes before his gaze moved to her lips then rested on her breasts.

She grinned. Definitely a tits-and-ass man. He lowered his mouth and took one peak into his mouth, sucking. His teeth gripped her nipple and bit gently.

“Ahhhh.” Her hips flexed again. He held the tip of the bud inside his teeth as he raised his head, pulling on her until she arched her chest to keep the pain from going beyond what she could endure with comfort.

But did she want comfort, or did she want it rougher? She reached up to keep him from pulling any harder and he let go. Her breast bounced back in place, her nipple exquisitely engorged and getting harder in the cool air.

“Hands on the headboard. Now.”

Her pussy tightened at his firm order, but her hands moved without pause to the headboard where she entwined them in the intricate iron design, cool against her fingers.

His mouth descended on her other nipple and repeated the same torture. “Oh, Mar…Sir, I mean. Yes, Sir!” She stiffened, waiting to be chastised for using his name. And for speaking out loud. Were the old rules still in place?

He lifted his head and stared at her, very solemn. Oh, God. Don’t let him stop again for another punishment—well, not a painful one, anyway. She wanted to come so badly. He’d promised. She waited to find out what he intended to do.

“Pet, I give you permission to be as vocal as you wish, because I am going to blow your mind in a few minutes and I want to hear how much you enjoy the ride.” He smiled in a very wicked way.

“Yes, Sir.” She said in an awed whispered. She relaxed, returning his smile. At last. The time had come—to come. She giggled. Something about his announcing what he intended to do made it much more thrilling. He had no doubt he would succeed, and neither did she, which also blew her mind.

He leaned up to kiss her, his hand reaching behind her head to pull her hair as he’d done earlier. The roughness of the kiss was exactly what she wanted. What she needed. His mouth blazed down to her breasts again, nipping her neck, tugging her nipples, but not lingering this time as he moved down to her belly. She cringed as the ticklish triggers went off.

I will not react. I will not react. First you sift the flour, then add six eggs
… She refused to give him any reason to restrain her legs again.

He stopped what he was doing and looked up at her. He wasn’t pleased. “Was there a thought you neglected to share, pet?”

He wanted her to give a blow by blow of her thoughts? Embarrassed, she said, “I’m trying not to react to being tickled, Sir. Mind over matter.”

“Well, you’re so damned tense, pet, you aren’t going to be able to feel anything. If I promise not to restrain your legs, will you let yourself relax enough to enjoy it?”

“How did you… Um, yes, Sir!”

His smile warmed her entire body. “Good girl.” He grabbed two pillows and told her to raise her hips, which she did. With her hips floating on a cloud of feathers, her pussy high in the air, he spread her legs wide as he lowered her head. He pressed his tongue against her wet vagina and, with his tongue flattened, he slid it up and over her hooded clit. She bucked toward his face. He pulled away making her afraid he would stop, but instead the tip of his tongue traced delicious circles around her clit, careful not to touch the tiny erection. Teasing her.

“Oh, God, yes! Touch my clit!” She froze. Had she just said those words aloud? Dear Lord, she’d never talked during sex before.

He pulled away and waited for her to make eye contact. “That’s right,
bella
. Don’t hold anything back.” Every muscle in her pelvis melted like chocolate in a double boiler. But she wanted to get on with her “punishment”—her big O moment. She tilted her pelvis against his hand, urging him to get back to work; inviting him inside. He smiled and lowered his head again.

He pressed his fingertip against her opening, coating his finger with her pussy juices, then slid the wetness along a path to her waiting clit. Her mind screamed “
Mio Dio!
” when he touched her. “Please, lick me there again. Oh, on my clit!”

He ignored her pleas and she groaned in frustration. Two fingers spread her outer lips open. Exposed. She felt the cool air of the room and his warm breath touching her clit again. She throbbed with the need for direct stimulation. Open to him completely, his fingers glided between the open folds to her wet pussy and pressed against the opening of her vagina. Her very slick vagina. His finger pressed inside her vagina, then two fingers, thrusting deep inside.

Yes! Finally! Please!

She remembered she could speak. “Please, Sir, I need you to touch me there.”

As if she’d said some magic word, he lowered his tongue directly to her clit and flicked it rapidly. “Oh,
Gesu
, yes!” She gripped the headboard to keep from flying off the mattress, but her hips weren’t restrained and did levitate, over and over.

His fingers slid in and out of her vagina like a piston as his tongue flicked over her clit. “Oh, God. I’m going to come.”

He stopped moving his fingers and looked up at her. “No, you’re not. Not until I give you permission to come.”

What? Had he just said what she thought he’d said? She had to wait? “But you promised!” She knew her voice sounded whiny, needy, but she’d waited too long.

“Oh, I always keep my promises, pet. But in my time, not yours.”

She groaned, even though she wasn’t exactly in a position to argue. With a whimper, she tried to release the coiled tension in her body. He smiled and his fingers began to move in and out again, but he didn’t take his gaze away from hers.

“You are so fucking wet and responsive,
bella
.”

Heat flooded her face, whether from the compliment or the dirty talk, she wasn’t sure. Instinctively, she tried to clench her legs together out of embarrassment. But his head and shoulders restricted her movement. She didn’t realize until now that he’d, in effect, restrained her again anyway.

“Has any man ever discovered your G-spot?”

What? Her G-spot? Why did he have to talk about such things?
Just do it, Marc!
Did such a thing as a G-spot even exist? Her friends had joked about it, but none had indicated she or a partner had ever found the holy Grail-spot in their holy of holies, as they jokingly called it. Allen certainly hadn’t. So, she had no idea what the fuss was. But, if it did exist, she had no doubt Marc would know exactly where to find hers.

She hoped so, at least, because now she absolutely needed to find out if she had one.

“Answer the question—yes or no. Has anyone ever given you a G-spot orgasm?”

When she realized closing herself off from him, whether physically or mentally, would be impossible, she shook her head. “No, Sir.”

He pulled his fingers out, turned his hand palm up, and drove two fingers to the hilt inside her quivering core, taking her breath away. Her hips bolt upward as if attached to an invisible pulley in the ceiling. His fingers curled toward her pelvic bone and began massaging as his thumb rocked against her clit.

Waves of heat and sensation washed over her. “Oh!” She felt the pressure build and spread all the way to her lower jaw. He’d certainly touched a nerve. A delicious nerve. When he stroked her again, her pelvis bucked off the pillows. “Oh, God, yes!”

“You are not to come yet.”

Chapter Fourteen

Before she could analyze why that sounded wrong on so many levels, his fingers curled even deeper inside her and she lost the ability to clench the muscles in her legs. They fell limp, as if paralyzed. Pressure from his thumb on her clit, alternating with the “come here” motion of his fingers made her body feel as if she were on a runaway roller coaster, riding toward the crest of the highest hill. The bucking of her pelvis increased and she writhed. The air in the room felt cold against her sweat-soaked skin.