The Art of Control (8 page)

“Come eat. You’ll feel better after you eat a little,” he says, touching my mouth.

“Yes, Sir.”

I follow Dy
lan to the small dining area where he starts to serve me food, and I gradually come back to my senses.

“Let me do this for you. Sit, Dyla
n. You should be resting,” I tell him and take over his duties.

He doesn’t argue and
I ready our plates. Dylan watches me warily and I smile at him, hoping it will put his mind at ease. I don’t want him to worry about me. We eat in silence and I mostly just pick at my food, still feeling put off by the memories of my mother. I’m staring at my food when I hear Dylan put his silverware down.

“Eat, Isabel,” he says
austerely.

After
picking some more, I force myself to take a bite, chewing the braised beef at a snail's pace. It tastes heavenly. I’m starving and when the food hits my stomach, it grumbles loudly. I eat another bite and my appetite slowly but surely comes back. I finish my vegetables and when I finally look up, Dylan is watching me closely.

“I feel better,” I
assure him, but my voice betrays me.

“Now
we’re going to talk about what’s on your mind,” he states.

“Do we really have to?” I plead.

“Yes, we do. It’s obvious that you’re shutting down. I’ve told you that I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong. Now get changed into something pretty for me and come lie with me on the bed. I’ll pour us some wine and we can go slowly, okay?”

“Yes, Sir.”

I dig out the sexy lace gown that
Dylan packed for me and put it on, slipping off my underwear. Dylan is propped up on one elbow and lying in bed with a glass of wine waiting for me. I join him, sitting against the back of the headboard and sipping the fruity white blend that room service brought up. Setting the glass down on the night stand, I turn to face Dylan. He’s waiting patiently to hear what’s bothering me, but I can’t put into words what exactly is going through my mind.

“I can’t lose you, too,” I blurt out.

Dylan looks stunned at my statement and I have to admit, I’m surprised at my own admission, too.

“You’re not losing me.” Dylan rubs my arm and
squeezes it, trying to soothe me.

“I almost lost you tonight.”

“But you didn’t. I’m still here.  Is that what you were thinking about in the bathroom?” he asks.

“
Yes. That and my mother. You said I was very adept at taking care of injuries and you were right. I was. I mean, I am. I had to take care of my mother when she was injured. The smell of blood brought back memories of taking care of her and cleaning her up after my father would… Why did she stay with him for so long? Why would someone stay in a situation like that? I don’t understand. He was so cruel to her. She deserved better than that. She was so kind and loving,” I say, trying to stifle my tears.

“Yes, I’m
sure she was. I wish I knew the answer to that question. I wish I could answer all of your questions. Sometimes there are no explanations for the things people do.  She loved you and that’s all that matters. You need to try and focus on that love and not the bad things that happened. I can’t imagine how difficult that is for you to do and I won’t even pretend to know what you’re going through, but I’m here to listen. I love you, baby girl.”

His voice is
relaxing and calm, and warms my insides.

“I must be stupid to love my father.”

“What do you mean?” he asks dazed.

“I mean, after everything he’s done, there’s still a part of me that loves him. He’s my father, Dylan. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for him. Even after everything he’s put me
through, I just want him to apologize. I just want him to say he’s sorry for what he did to me and more importantly, what he did to my mother. If he would just do that… I don’t know. I’m so wishy-washy sometimes. I sometimes think I would forgive him completely and other times I think, no, I could never forgive him.”

I reach over,
dim the lights and snuggle up to Dylan. After my statement about my father, he remains silent and I can only imagine what he must be thinking about what I’ve said.

“I’m exhausted. I just want to sleep now,” I say, fighting the urge to cry.

“Of course. Sleep my beautiful angel. We can talk more tomorrow,” Dylan coos in my ear.

Several hours later, I
wake frightened and feeling like I want to escape from the room, but I can’t remember why. I sit up on the edge of the bed and flick on the side lamp. I must’ve had a bad dream though I don’t recall what it was about. I’m glad I don’t remember it. I look over at Dylan and he’s resting peacefully. I lean down and kiss him and he stirs and kicks off the covers.
God, he’s beautiful.

The view outside the large window is stunning. We have a perfect view of Paris and the Eiffel Tower. I slip on my robe and venture out on
to the balcony and into the cold night air. The brisk breeze wakes me fully and I tie my robe tightly around my waist.  The air smells different here than it does in Denver. It smells dingy and polluted at this height.

I
miss Denver already; it’s home to me. It’s where I found independence and distance from my father. It’s where I found Dylan.  It’s where I found happiness and love.

I move closer to the railing and peer over the edge. It’s a long way down and vertigo makes my head sp
in. I move back, feeling dizzy from the view. Near the railing, there’s a small patio table and two chairs. I step up onto one of the chairs that sits precariously close to the barrier. I lean forward and gaze down the side of the tall hotel.
Wow, that’s a really long way down
.

I
f I leaned forward ever so slightly and tumbled over, I wonder if I could fly. Maybe I could just close my eyes and fly far away from here and away from all the bad memories and bad dreams; away from my pathetic weakness and pain. I could see my mother again. Yes, that would be nice. Dylan would be fine without me. He’s strong. He wouldn’t even miss me that much. If I just lean forward like this, I wonder if I could fly…

“
What are you doing?”

Dylan’s
loud voice startles me and my body stiffens.

“Isabel,
don’t move
,” he says strictly with an undertone of panic.

I turn my head to look at him and
the fear on his face abruptly jolts me back to reality. Looking forward again, the view over the ledge makes me nauseous. I hate heights.
What the hell am I doing up here?
My body sways and I start to shake, and Dylan’s strong hands brusquely grab me and yank me off the chair and into his arms, hugging me so tightly I can barely breathe. He angrily pulls me back and leans down to face me.

“What t
he hell were you doing?” he barks.

“I was just wondering
if I could fly,” I whisper, knowing how ridiculous it sounds.

“Don’
t you ever think about it again, Isa. Don’t you
ever
think about doing that to me,” he says forcefully as he shakes me by my shoulders.

“I wasn’t thinking about doing that, Dylan,” I
cry, feeling ashamed and chastened by Dylan’s harsh words and tear-filled eyes.

“You better not because I swear to God if you ever leave me like that, I’ll follow you right over the ledge.”

Dylan

“Please d
on’t say that, sugar,” Isa cries. She buries her face in my chest and sobs as I hold her close, still angry and scared at what I just witnessed. 

Fucking hell.
I know what I saw. She can deny it, but I know what I fucking saw. How could she think about doing that to me? I can’t lose her, not like that. I can’t lose her period.
Fucking hell
. I sweep her up into my arms not giving a shit about my pain and carry her to the bed. She’s shivering from being out in the cold and I can only wonder how long she was out outside contemplating whatever it was she was contemplating.

I disrobe her and pull the
blankets up over the both of us and hold her tightly.

“Don’t you ever think about doing that to me,” I repeat.

Isa hides her face in my neck and drifts off to sleep. I listen to the sound of her breathing and try to fall asleep, but I’m unable to. I can’t stop thinking about the sight of her standing dangerously close to that ledge and damn near teetering over it.
I want her fucking father dead.
I recall what she said about still loving him and I’m amazed at her kindness in the face of his cruelty.

Giving up on falling back to sleep, I sit up on one elbow and tuck Isa’s hair behind her ear. She starts mumbling something and whimpering so I whisper calming things into her ear and her whining subsides.

I check the time and decide to call Sawyer again. I’m still pissed off about the attack and what its implications mean. Maybe I am being paranoid, but after everything that happened with Cassie and Alex, I have every right to be.

Sawyer picks up his
phone on the third ring and sounds out of breath.

“Sawyer here,” he answers.

“Did I catch you at a bad time?”

I hear a muffled female voice and rustling, and realize that I’ve probably just interrupted his playtime.

“No. Is everything okay on your end?” he asks, getting straight to business.

“I was still thinking about the attack from earlier. Something doesn’t sit right with me. I’m going back to see if I can find the knife and have it fingerprinted. I should’ve thought of it earlier but it all happened so fast,” I vacillate
whether to tell him about what happened with Isa.

“What else is going on? Is there something you’re not telling me?” he asks as if he’s read my mind.

I pause and sigh. I don’t want Isa to feel like I’ve betrayed her.

“Tell me, Young. Is it Isabel? Is she okay?”

“Christ, Sawyer. We’ve definitely been working together for too long.”

Sawyer laughs under his breath. “That’s true enough. So what is it?”

“It’s Isa. I caught her tonight just as she was… Shit, Sawyer. She’s in a bad way. That’s all I can tell you.”

“What can I do to help?”

“Unfortunately, nothing. It’s something Isa and I need to work out on our own.”

“You two will figure
it out whatever it is. If it at all involves her father, I’m working on getting that resolved.”

“Thanks. I’ll talk to you later. By the way,
tell Sonya Isa and I say hello.” I couldn’t resist throwing that out there. Sawyer coughs nervously and I can’t help but chuckle at him.

“Yeah, sure,” he says and I can just imagine the look on his face
at being called out.

I hang up and make my way to the bathroom to inspect my chest. I peel off the gauze and change the dressing after applying more antisepti
c. I really am a lucky son-of-a-bitch. I can’t even count the number of times I’ve come close to death.  It’s no wonder Isa is just a little freaked out.

By the time I’m done cleaning myself up, the sun is just starting to come over the horizon
and I call down and order an early breakfast.

When it arrives, I set the food
out and ready our plates. Isa rouses with the smell of breakfast and sits on the edge of the bed and rubs her eyes. She stands, stretches and puts her robe on, moving next to me at the table while I attempt to read the newspaper.

“Do you need help with that?” Isa asks.

“No thank you,” I tell her clipped.

Isa stand
s motionless watching me so I glance over the newspaper and motion for her to sit down. She sulks to her chair and sinks into it. She eats her breakfast slowly and pouts the entire time.

She puts her silverware down, stands and pulls the newspaper out of my hands.

“Talk to me,” she demands.

“What do you want me to say?”

“So you’re still angry with me?”

Feeling like
exploding, I decide it best to hold my tongue and count down from ten to slow my breathing and rein in my temper.

“I’m not angry with you; I’m concerned.”

“There’s really no need for your concern. I’m fine,” she protests irritably.

Her denial
damn near sends me over the edge. “You’re seriously going to stand there and tell me that what happened last night is nothing to be concerned about?”

“Nothing happened last night,” she replies.

“Only because I stopped you,” I huff. 

Her cheeks flush and she starts playing with her hair
, and my irritation quickly subsides.

“That’s not true. I wouldn’t have done anything.”

I pull her onto my lap and grab her face. “Don’t lie to me, Isa. You were thinking about it, weren’t you?”

“
Yes, okay, it flashed in my mind, but I never would’ve done it. And anyway, even if I had... You’re strong. You would’ve been just fine without me,” she counters, making me completely come unglued.

“
Fine
? No, I wouldn’t have been
fine.
Jesus Christ, Isa. I fucking love you and I wouldn’t have been fine without you. Why would you think that?” I bellow much too loudly.

Isa’
s eyes get big at my reaction and her body stiffens.

“If your ass wasn’t
still sore I’d paddle it right now for saying such an asinine thing,” I gripe harshly.

Isa frowns and looks
remorseful. Her fingers find her hair again, her eyes remaining on my mouth as she twists her golden lock around and around.

My anger wavers
when I see how much she resembles a scolded child.  “We’ll fix whatever’s wrong, okay? You won’t always feel like this, I promise. But you can’t ever do that to me. Don’t you dare deprive me of your love and the world of your talent,” I tell her, my eyes welling up. Christ,
man up, Young.
“Promise me you won’t harm yourself,” I say softly.

“I won’t hurt myself,” she tells me, but I don’t believe her.

“Promise me you won’t harm yourself, Isa,” I say more adamantly when she doesn’t tell me the exact words I need to hear.

“I won’t harm myself,” she says
tetchily.

“God damn it, say it,” I tell h
er sternly, grabbing her jaw.

Isa looks dazed and finally gives in. “I promise I won’t harm myself,” she says exasperated with me.

I feel mildly better to hear her say the words because I know a promise from Isa is a serious thing and she always keeps her word.

I pick out something for her and me to wear and then inform her that we’re going back to the same neighborhood
we were in last night, leaving out the fact that we’re going there to find the knife. Isa seems less than enthused, but then I tell her that first, we’re going to The Louvre and her mood brightens.

I’d love to watch her pain
t something here in Paris, but at this point, I’m not sure how inspired she is. Maybe I can propose that idea a little later.

Once we arrive at The Lou
vre, Isa seems in her element as she wanders around all wide-eyed and inquisitive about everything. I’ve been here numerous times before so I know my way around and I show her my favorite pieces.

“This is so amazing, Dylan. I really can’t be
lieve how beautiful it all is; and to see it close up… it’s just so wonderful.”

Turning to face me, she throws her arms around me, hugging me ferociously.

“Thank you for bringing me here. I never in my life thought I’d be standing here looking at the Mona Lisa. I love you so much. You’re so kind and generous,” she sniffs.

“Oh, no, not the waterworks.
No tears today, love. Not even tears of joy.  The only expression I want to see on your face today is happiness.”

She
beams widely at me and responds, “What about orgasmic? Don’t you want to see that expression on my face, too?” she asks playfully.

“That goes without saying.”

We spend far too much time looking at the masterpieces, but I don’t rush Isa and I let her enjoy herself. I’m aching to get into her panties, but my mind keeps wandering back to last night’s horrible episode.

Isa stands gazing
at a water painting and I watch her closely. Her eyes scan the image and a smile plays on the corners of her mouth. I wish she was this content all the time.

“
Where does your love of art come from?” she asks.

As usual, her que
stion comes out of nowhere and she asks a question that no one has ever asked me before. I sit on a nearby bench thinking of how to answer her seemingly simple question. Isa turns to look at me, walks over and sits next to me. Her hand softly rubs my back while she continues to look around the room at the different paintings.

“After my parents died
, my guilt was overwhelming. It still is, but you already know that. Work and training submissives wasn’t enough to keep my mind off of them and everything that happened. Art did that for me. All of the wonderful images took my mind off how horribly they died and how I was responsible for it. I threw myself into the art world and learned everything I could about it.”

Is
a looks surprised at my reply.

“You weren’t expecting that answer, were you?”

She shakes her head
no.

“You
and I are so much alike, Isa; different, but alike. You threw yourself into your artwork to help cope with your abusive situation and to let your secret desires out, and I embraced it to forget about my parents’ death.”

“We really ar
e meant for each other,” she whispers as she leans into my ear.

“Without a doubt.”

Another hour later,
I’m finally able to pry Isa away from the paintings and we leave to eat some lunch. Watching her speak French is arousing me as she speaks to the waiter. Again, her mouth is captivating as it forms the strange words and I ache to be inside of her -
all of her
; her mouth, her ass, her pussy. Isa looks up at me and her eyes change color, signaling that Mistress Isabel is now in the house.

She asks our server
, “Parlez-vous Anglais?” to which he responds,
yes,
in English. He leaves and Isa smiles deviously at me.

“I know that look
in your eyes,” she says.

“Oh, you do?”

She nods and slides next to me in the booth, pressing herself into me and practically sitting in my lap. She runs her hand up my thigh and rubs my hardening cock through my pants, making me moan from the sensation. She unbuttons my pants, pulls my dick out and starts stroking me. I look around anxiously at the crowded room and no one seems to be paying any attention to Isa’s filthy movements as she jerks me off under the table.

“Be
a good boy and cum for me,” she breathes into my ear as her hand squeezes around me and moves up and down.

“Yes, Mistress,” I grunt out.

Fucking hell
. I have to fight the urge to clear the table off and throw Isa down onto it and fuck my Mistress into oblivion. She licks my cheek and moans under her breath.

“Cum
, Dylan,” she says softly.

Her voice… that
tone… fuck, fuck, fuck
. I close my eyes tightly and concentrate on giving her what she wants.

We’re rudely interrupted by the waiter who brings back our drinks and appetizers, but
Isa’s pace goes unchanged as she continues to stroke me, never taking her eyes off of me.

“
Thank you, that’s all,” she utters to the man and he quickly retreats.

Watching her mouth move i
s the most God damned sexy thing ever as I imagine her pink glossed lips wrapped around my cock. I pick up a grape from the wine and cheese tray and run it along her bottom lip. She teases it with her tongue and I push it into her mouth along with my index finger. She licks, sucks and nibbles my finger as if it’s my dick and twirls her tongue over the tip. Thrusting up into her grip, her hand clamps tighter around me as she runs her thumb over the head of my cock. She speeds up her stroking motions making my finish build quickly.
Shit. I’m really going to cum right here in the middle of this motherfucking restaurant.