XXX - 145 Enslave: The Taming of the Beast (11 page)

Chapter Nine
Why won’t he trust me?
Nadia had never been in this situation before. She wasn’t sure how or when things got so absolutely complicated, but she was going to find a middle ground or die trying.
Sex seemed to be the only common ground that they had, lately. She didn’t mind that, in a lot of ways. She loved the feel of his powerful body when it moved inside her, the way every touch brought out a myriad of sensations and feelings. She
craved
him. She wanted him with every fiber of her being. But at the same time, she felt so much because he allowed her to be herself. She didn’t have to pretend anymore. She’d never felt so authentic, certainly not with her own family. She’d been focused on survival for so long, she didn’t realize that she could feel anything more.
Now, though, she had gotten greedy. She wanted more than simply tepid statements that they cared for each other. She wanted him to trust her. She wanted more with him than a sequestered fantasy existence, where they hid from his death threats and her family. They had a relationship, damn it. They could make it work in real life, if he weren’t being such a…what was the American word that best fit?
Butthead
. If he weren’t being such a butthead.
Still, things weren’t so straightforward that she could simply yell at him that he was being a butthead, slap some sense into him—metaphorically speaking—and then expect him to understand. He’d developed his beastlike tendencies under torture, abandonment, and abuse.
Tough love was not what was needed here, though she wasn’t quite sure what the alternative was.
He hid himself in his lair, sulking. She waited until ten o’clock that night. She even pulled together some dinner, which he never touched. By ten, she realized that he was simply going to avoid her as long as possible, until she caved. Well, that wasn’t going to work.
She banged on the door to his bedroom suite with her fist. “Dominic? Dominic! You can’t keep hiding from me!”
He opened the door, his eyes gleaming like onyx in the dim light. “I’m not hiding.” The words were brittle.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she said, crossing her arms in front of her. “Not until we talk about this.”
“What is it with women, always wanting to talk? Talk isn’t going to get us anywhere. You’ve got your choices. You stay, or you go. That’s it.”
That glower of his used to terrify her. Now, she knew he was simply buckling up all his armor. Protecting himself.
A frontal assault was not going to work, she realized, her heart sinking. It was just as well—she only had so much energy to fight. No, if this were going to happen, then she was going to just have to find another way past his defenses.
He would listen to her. She just needed to find a different way to communicate.
She took a deep breath. “Fine. I won’t talk about…that.”
He shrugged. “Fine.” He started to close the door again.
“So that’s it? You’re not going to even…” She made a vague gesture with her hands. “Be…with me?”
“Excuse me for not being in the mood for sex right now.” His words were tinged with frost.
What did he expect her to do? Beg? She’d be damned before she…
She took a deep breath. Sighed. Gritted her teeth. “Please?”
His eyes widened, and his scarred face twisted sarcastically. “I see. Well, that certainly makes a difference.”
“Give me at least the chance to change your mind,” she said, her voice soft, an almost whisper. All right, she was begging.
In a good cause
, she thought.
He sighed, then opened the door. Cautious, she stepped inside. He didn’t want to be pitied. He didn’t want to be vulnerable. This was where he felt safest. This was where he went to lick his wounds.
I’ll just have to lick his wounds for him
.
The thought was a soothing balm. She’d approached him the wrong way. She still needed his trust as well as his love, but he was scared. He didn’t want to lose her, but he couldn’t believe that she really wanted to stay. Couldn’t conceive that she actually accepted him, flaws and all. She had to show him that.
She smiled softly.
“What?” he asked, his voice thick with suspicion. “What are you thinking?”
“You’ve got a big bed,” she said speculatively. He had a fireplace as well.
“I mean it,” he said, his tone stern. “I’m not in the mood.”
She realized that. She sat on the edge of his bed. “Then can I ask you a few questions?”
He glanced at her suspiciously. “About what?”
“About the fetish stuff,” she said. “When I first got here, you had ‘punishments’ for me. It was different—more like a game. I’d never done anything like that before.”
He sighed, deeply. “I shouldn’t have,” he said. “Once we…well, once things changed between us, I made sure to stop.”
Her mouth fell open. “Wait,
no
. I’m not bringing that up to make you feel badly. I didn’t mean that at all!”
“So you’re not trying to guilt me into letting you go?”
“Absolutely not.” She felt appalled. This was worse than she thought. “I was just going to ask: have you always enjoyed that sort of thing?”
He was silent, standing still. She could feel the tension of him, the discomfort.
Shame.
She walked over to where he was, and he flinched, as if he would take a step back. “You didn’t hurt me,” she said.
His snort of disbelief was punctuated by his cold blue stare.
“Really.” She took his hand, stroking it, feeling the muscles bunch and flex beneath her palm. “I was surprised by it. I enjoyed parts of it.” Her eyes dropped to the ground. “I didn’t think I should.”
She felt his fingers below her chin, urging her face up to meet his gaze. “Are you just saying this, Nadia?”
She shook her head, realizing she wasn’t. “I am curious. How did you know that those things could be…?”
“Pain—a small, controlled amount—can blur into pleasure.” His voice was low, so low she had to strain to hear it. “But you didn’t know that. I didn’t even establish boundaries with you. Trust me, I of all people should have known better.”
“Who taught you?” The question popped out unbidden, and she bit her lip once it was aloud.
He closed his eyes. “Alexis.”
Jealousy stabbed at her. Of course, Alexis. She stroked his arm. “I didn’t mean to remind you of those times.”
“No. I just…hadn’t thought of it in a long time.” He seemed to calm under her stroking, although he still didn’t look at her. “You saw what I used to look like.”
She paused a moment, then continued to stroke him, hoping to ease him through what he was remembering.
“My mom used to say I was useless except for my looks,” he said. “When I got old enough for women to notice it, my face got me anything I wanted. It made men hate me. I got my ass kicked a lot. Then I got tough, and that stopped.” He said that with brutal relish. “I had whatever woman I wanted. It got to be almost too easy. Then I met Alexis.”
He said her name like his tongue was sliding over a razor. Nadia shivered.
“She taught me that pain and pleasure could be close. She taught me how to punish…” He stopped abruptly, looking at Nadia warily.
“Go on,” she urged quietly.
He took a deep breath. “I knew what her limits were. How to make her feel just enough pain; when to stop. She taught me how to play the game. Sometimes I thought I loved her, and sometimes I thought I hated her. But I never forgot her, and I’ve never felt anything quite like it.”
He stopped, looking at Nadia with awkward embarrassment.
“After the bomb, why didn’t you just…” She stopped, realizing what she was about to propose.
“Kill Alexis?” he asked, reading her mind. “I have thought about it. But I couldn’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’ve never felt anything like the way she made me feel, good and bad,” he said. Then he grimaced. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to tell you all that.”
“I know.” And she loved him more for it—for the fact he felt like he could tell her anything. “Do you miss it?”
“Miss what?” Then he paused, realizing what she meant. “Do I miss those…games?”
She nodded.
“I wouldn’t ask that of you, Nadia,” he said, his voice gravelly. “You’re better than that.”
“It’s not a matter of better or not. It’s just what feels good, and what doesn’t. I want you to show me,” she whispered. “I trust you.”
He looked pensive for a moment. Then he took her to the bed. “Lie down.”
She did, and he took out what looked like several black silk scarves. “If there’s
anything
you don’t want to do…”
“I’ll tell you,” she said immediately.
He still hesitated. Then, slowly, he rolled her onto her stomach, stretching her arms behind her and binding her wrists. She felt a jolt of apprehension, her heart beating rapidly. He bound her ankles as well; snug enough to know she couldn’t move, although not enough to be painful. She twisted her body to look at him.
“Are you all right?” he asked instantly.
She nodded, unable to speak. He looked strained. Then, he took the last silk scarf, and covered her eyes, plunging her into darkness.
She felt unbelievably vulnerable. Every sense except for sight was heightened. She could smell the woodsy aroma of the fire, mixed with slight tinge of expensive cologne that he wore. She could feel the softness of the sheets below her sliding across her skin. Her nipples dragged as she rolled slightly.
She could feel the warmth of his palms dancing millimeters away from her skin, not actually touching her, and the hair at the nape of her neck prickled with awareness. Then she felt his breath against her shoulder, her neck.
He rolled her onto her back, the awkwardness of her binding making her chest jut forward. She felt his breath between her breasts, teasing them, taunting them.
Then she felt his broad palm on her throat, his fingers gently curving around her neck.
She couldn’t help it: she gasped, her body tensing at the exact moment he took her nipple into his mouth. The juxtaposition of feelings—fear, pleasure—was like an electric shock. She gasped louder as he began to suckle, drawing her deep into his mouth, the pulsing pull of pressure sending waves of delight over her skin. She writhed beneath him, and his hand tightened ever so slightly around her throat. She could still breathe easily. He switched breasts, increasing his ministrations. She rubbed her thighs together, suddenly slick with the wetness of her growing arousal.
He removed his hand from her neck, smoothing it down her body…lower, until he spread her thighs as much as her bound ankles would allow. His fingers teased their way between her damp folds, stroking and stretching. He moved his head lower, pressing hot kisses down her solar plexus, her stomach, toward the area where his fingers were moving so industriously. He found her clit with his hands, and manipulated it deftly, waves of sensation pulsing up from between her legs. Her heart beat like a trip-hammer, and she moaned softly, lifting her hips as best she could off the bed, enticing him.
He nipped her hip, hard. She gasped. It hurt, a little—but again, he’d timed it so it was just as her body was starting to wriggle with precursors of orgasm. It was as if the pain only pitched the fevered feelings of ecstasy higher.
She had no idea how long he kept this up—it seemed interminable, as if she were burning in a flame of desire that would not find release. She had never felt this hot before. Every time her breathing sped up, every time she got to the delicious edge of orgasm, he would pull back, adjust her position, give her time to cool down as he kissed her or massaged her breasts, her hips, her legs.
Finally, he turned her over, onto her knees, her hips up in the air. She shivered, knowing he was going to finally enter her. He plunged his fingers inside her, giving her a foretaste of the penetration she really wanted.
“Dominic,” she breathed, “please…”
She felt the spank, short and sharp, across her right buttock.
She squealed in surprise as her ass felt a burst of heat and pain. Did she want this? She didn’t want…
The next strike was exactly the same…except she felt the tip of his cock, thick and hard, pressing into her.
Suddenly, the dynamic changed. The pain of each spank was counterpointed by the smooth, sensual glide of his cock, moving inch by inch inside her. She found herself lolling her head from one side to another, backing her hips to meet each thrust, each soft blow from the palm of his hand. She shivered as the emotions blurred to a chaotic frenzy of high-pitched desire.
“Dominic!” she screamed, as he started to thrust harder, his deep penetration and hard, slamming thrusts replacing his palm. “Dominic!
Dominic!
”
He groaned loud, his pace frenzied as her bucking motions against him. He covered her, reaching around to cup her breasts, his hips jerking against hers. The feel of his chest against her back, the heat of his hips against her buttocks, the kneading pressure of her breasts, the wonderful feel of his hard, thick cock inside her…it was finally too much. The orgasm exploded through her like a grenade, and she shrieked in pure animal pleasure. His loud groan of pleasure as he shuddered inside her blended with hers, and his hips jerked hard against her as he spilled himself into her.
They fell to their sides, spooning, sweaty and breathing hard. She felt dazed. Her whole body throbbed.
He kissed her hair, her shoulder. She could feel the tension that replaced the bliss of their lovemaking. He undid her wrists and ankles, saving her blindfold for last. When she could see again, she saw the regret and pain in his face.
She reached up, cupping his jaw, then kissed him, tenderly and deeply.
“I didn’t hurt you?”
“I’ve never felt anything like it,” she said. “And we can do it again whenever you like.”
He crushed her to him, holding her tight with evident relief.
She curved around him, snuggling against him. “I won’t leave you,” she murmured. “I won’t ever desert you. I wouldn’t hurt you, I won’t betray you.”
“Shhh,” he murmured, stroking her hair. “Don’t.”
“You have to believe me,” she said fiercely. “Please.”
He shuddered. “Don’t,” he repeated, and the word seemed torn from him.
She propped herself up on one elbow. “I want you to trust me,” she breathed. “What would it take? To get you to trust me?”
“You’re still trying to leave,” he said, but the heat was gone.
“Just to see my family.”
“What have those people done for you anyway?” His eyes were sharp, accusatory. “Your father sold you and your sisters like whores. You’re not even related to your stepmother. Why should you have anything to do with them at all?”
She sighed. “I can’t get you to understand,” she said. “They’ve all done unpleasant things, for the good of the family. I don’t agree with all of it now. But all of that lead me here, to you. Please, don’t begrudge them doing what they thought was best.”