Masochist

by Nadia Aidan

  Her jaw clenched in anger. “I did not start those fires. I did not place explosives there.” She looked to Adonis, imploring him. “You cannot possibly believe I would ever harm my sister.”

  Whatever he saw on her face, glimpsed in her eyes, caused him to waver. “No. I do not believe you would harm her.”

  Selena did not imagine Ares’ snort, especially not when Adonis glared at him.

  “She could be lying.”

  “She could be telling the truth,” Adonis retorted. “No device was found at her sister’s bordello either.”

  “Thus far.” Ares’ eyes sharpened on her, before he glanced at Adonis. “What about Eros? Did he find anything?”

  “I have not yet heard from him,” Adonis replied.

  “He is probably still at the convent. I will join him there.”

  “Before you do, what do you want me to do with the ring?” Adonis held it out to Ares and Selena was certain it was not her imagination that his brother shrank away from the glittering piece of jewellery.

  “Keep it,” Ares whispered. “There is obviously a meaning to it we have yet to discover.”

  Ares crossed the room towards the door. “Once I’ve met with Eros, I will contact you with what we’ve learned. In the meantime, I suggest you find somewhere else to stay.”

  “My home is secure,” Adonis assured. “Between my guards and the security system, I will be safe.”

  Ares glanced at her. The motion was fleeting, the message was not.

  But will you be safe from her?

  This night, Adonis was safe from her, but she could not promise any other. She looked away, knowing her flickering gaze would further confirm Ares’ suspicions, further condemn her in his eyes.

  “Be careful, Adonis,” Ares said quietly, yet pointedly, then stalked out of the room, every movement as silent and deadly as the man himself.

  “He does not trust me,” Selena said as soon as the door closed behind Ares.

  “Because he senses the reason for your presence and knows you mean to do me harm.” Adonis shrugged out of his suit jacket, then peeled off his shirt, discarding each article of clothing as he made his way to his bedroom, seemingly untroubled by what he’d just said, as if her desire to kill him did not cause him a care in the world.

  She followed after him. “And that does not bother you—my intent to kill you.”

  He stared down at her, and she held his gaze so that she would not lose herself in the beauty of his bare chest.

  “I have already told you, it has yet to be determined if you will actually carry out this plan of yours.”

  He cupped her cheek, the gentle touch of his fingers against her face causing a shudder to race through her, singeing her toes.

  He smiled—at the desire he’d ignited in her…and at her inability to hide it. She wanted to pull away, but she couldn’t. She wanted to feel shame for her traitorous reaction, feel anger at his arrogance, but she didn’t.

  “Why are you and your brothers afraid of that ring?” He’d left the ring in the other room, seeming almost in a hurry to set it down.

  His hand dropped from her face, the absence of its warmth making her want to reach for him and drag his hand back. She restrained herself.

  “It’s not the ring, but what it represents.”

  “And what is that?”

  He sighed, and she glimpsed the battle raging in his eyes. He wanted to tell her, but was not yet certain if he could.

  She waited. He had reason not to trust her. But someone had set fire to her convent believing her to be there. If he was in danger, then so was she. That bonded them, even if it did not warrant complete and unconditional trust.

  “It represents my father. The ring represents his omnipotent power.”

  “Dieu? ” she asked, before she could stop herself. Now she understood. Their father had been dead for more than a year now. “I take it his seal is somewhere with his personal effects.”

  “It should be in our family safe at our old home.”

  Their former home, which lay at the centre of the four districts.

  “Obviously, someone who saw it has made a replica of it.”

  That was logical, but the pensive expression on Adonis’ face suggested otherwise. “That is possible,” he acknowledged.

  “But you do not believe it.”

  “Besides our father, only us four know of it. He never wore that ring in public. I’ve only seen it inside his safe.”

  His voice trailed off as if he wanted to say more, as if there was something else to the story.

  She didn’t press him. Too much had transpired this evening. She was tired. He was tired. All she wanted was to go to bed.

  Selena stared up at him, and the shadows beneath his eyes weakened her. What she’d learned from Ares pierced her in her heart, in the very place she’d thought frozen all these years. That it hurt for the man who stood before her said otherwise.

  Tonight was not the night to broach the subject, nor was it the night to continue their game of revenge. Tomorrow maybe. In the morning.

  If someone did not set fire to his bedroom where they slept. If they were still alive…

  “Will you sleep beside me tonight?” she offered, her voice quiet.

  So much had changed from the moment she’d entered his penthouse.

  Yet so much was still the same.

  What Ares had revealed begged her to forgive Adonis…until she remembered how she’d suffered. Then forgiveness was replaced by pain that soon gave way to bitterness.

  Adonis may have been a tool of manipulation, but who would use him to hurt her? Why would anyone have cared to ruin a spoilt, pampered heiress? No one. Even if Adonis was not solely guilty, that still did not excuse what he’d done. Nothing ever would.

  Despite his protests, he’d had a choice. He’d chosen to destroy her.

  She looked into his eyes. He was stretched across the bed, his golden body beneath the white satin sheets. He pulled aside the covers, offering her a place to sleep beside him as she’d just asked.

  So much had changed from the moment she’d entered his penthouse. Yet so much was still the same.

  A lump clogged her throat as she removed her shirt and slacks and, wearing just her undergarments, slid into the bed beside him.

  If what Ares said was true then Adonis had suffered alongside her, and yet he would accept her own suffering in order to heal her, to unburden her of the pain she still carried within.

  Before she could think about her actions, before she could stop herself, she palmed his stubbled jaw and leaned in, her lips finding his in a kiss born of need, full of memories from the past.

  She poured herself into that kiss, much as she’d done earlier, until they were panting. He wrenched his lips from hers, his hands clutching the sheets, his eyes clenched shut.

  He would not make love to her, even as she begged him with her lips, her eyes, her entire being—he still resisted. He’d hurt her. He did not deserve her tenderness, her desire. He only sought to experience her pain, her suffering. But he’d been hurt too, not by her exactly, but he’d been caught up in the scandal that had ruined her, that she now realised had ruined him too.

  Before they were done, she would have his pleasure, but not this night.

  She stroked his cheek.

  “Goodnight,” she whispered as she lay down and fell asleep beside him.

  Chapter Six

  The same vision haunted Adonis every night. The image that was branded on his subconscious found its way into his dreams, as it did every night.

  He awoke with a start, his gaze clashing with deep, topaz eyes, identical to the ones belonging to the woman he saw in his dreams every single night.

  She blinked, the fan of long sooty lashes shadowing wide, beautiful eyes.

  The vision he’d glimpsed had only been a dream, yet the woman before him was real.

  Tiny embers of sunlight brushed over her shoulder, bathing her skin in its golden rays. It was bare
ly dawn. Like so many nights before, he hadn’t even slept five hours.

  “You called my name in your sleep.” Her soft voice broke through his thoughts as he sat up.

  He knew what she saw when she looked at him, a face that was as perfectly beautiful as it was eerily cold. Adonis avoided her searching stare. What could he tell her? That he called her name in his sleep every night? That sometimes he awoke clutching the pillow beside him as if he was reaching for her. Many times the image in his dreams was so real that he thought he was going insane. And many times he wished he would lose his mind so he wouldn’t have to face the bleak existence that was now his life.

  He slipped from the bed without a word.

  “You did not force yourself upon me,” she blurted out, her words cutting like a knife, to the very heart of him. He twisted around, the emotions swirling inside him too conflicting to even begin to sift through.

  “You kept saying you were sorry. You begged me to forgive you for forcing me.” She sat up, clutching the covers to her chest. “But you never forced me. I wanted you that night. I took you to my bed willingly.”

  “Because you were naive and foolish,” he sneered. “You didn’t stand a chance the moment I touched you.”

  “You’re right. I didn’t.” Her words deflated his anger in an instant. “Your skills were legendary. Of course, I did not stand a chance against you, but that did not mean I did not welcome your touch.”

  “You begged me to stop.” The words came out raw as if ripped from his chest. They might as well have been. He saw her eyes as they’d been—full of fear, tears shimmering in their depths just before he’d pushed his way inside her body.

  “I was a virgin. Of course I begged you to stop. That was only because of the physical pain—”

  “But I didn’t stop.”

  “Because I begged you not to.”

  He frowned. “Why are you telling me this now?”

  “Because I want you to know it’s not what you did that night that I blame you for. It’s what came after.”

  He retreated from her stare. He did not want her pity. He wanted her forgiveness. He didn’t deserve it, but he longed for it nonetheless.

  She’d never forgive him. Her last statement said as much. Apollo was right. She just couldn’t.

  “Where are you going?” she asked when he turned to walk away.

  “To bathe.” He did not stop.

  “Can that wait until later?”

  He stilled. It was the unspoken need in her voice that halted his steps. “I would have you touch me again,” she whispered.

  He faced her. The needs of her body were revealed by the yearning shimmering in her eyes, the dark flush of her cheeks.

  His body responded to the lust radiating from her, the desire that hovered between them. In an instant his manhood unfurled from its nest of curls and grew ramrod straight.

  “And what if I do not wish to touch you? What if I wish for you to touch me?”

  Puzzlement gave way to knowing as the flames of desire burned higher in her eyes.

  “You want me to hurt you,” she stated matter-of-factly.

  “I want the pleasure-pain of yielding beneath your touch.”

  In his teens, he’d become a consort to both men and women. He’d learned the needs of their bodies and he’d fulfilled them. Never had anyone fulfilled his—until Selena. At the naive age of nineteen, she’d looked into his jaded eyes and seen him for the man he was. She’d looked past his arrogance and accepted him, loved him. She’d offered him the gift of her body and in turn he’d been forced to destroy her because she’d dared to love him.

  Last night he’d glimpsed the passion they could have shared had fate not torn them apart, and he yearned to experience that again. He longed to lose himself in her. He did not deserve such pleasure, but she was determined to have it. And, if it was even possible, his body grew harder at the notion of him surrendering to her as he’d done last night.

  He followed her with his gaze as she swayed across the room, her hips supple, her breasts full. She stood before his closet and opened it. He knew the item she sought and his breath caught in his chest when she pulled it out, along with a small bottle, and closed the doors.

  “You will have to help me. I’ve never worn one of these.”

  His brows arched as he stalked towards her. “I would think you’d never seen one either or known of its purpose, but apparently I am mistaken.”

  Her lips curled into a delicate smile and his heart lurched at the simple gesture. He’d amused her with his teasing. How long had it been since he’d laughed, enjoyed banter…even smiled.

  “I may have lived in a convent but I was not entirely sheltered. I read things, saw things.”

  He grinned, even as it was faint and fleeting. “I do not doubt that.”

  His smile faded then, his eyes pooling dark when he said, “Take off your underwear and bra.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it will be that much more pleasurable for you as the leather pushes against your clitoris.”

  Her eyes rounded and her cheeks pinked but she did not protest. She set the object down on the floor between them and stripped out of her bra and underwear. When she was done she picked it up again and the bottle she’d set down as well, but, before she could put it on, he stilled her with the touch of his hand.

  “Do you trust me?”

  The tapestry of emotions that flickered in her eyes told him just how deeply his question affected her.

  “I mean, when it comes to sexual matters,” he added.

  “I trust you in many things,” she murmured. The truth of her words was there in her eyes. She may trust him in many things, but not all things—her eyes said that too. Maybe one day that would change.

  With gentle hands, he took the items from her and set them atop the bed.

  “I would have you lie down and spread your legs.”

  Her eyes rounded. “But—”

  He silenced her with a single finger against her lips. “You said you trusted me in this. So, trust me.”

  She hesitated only a moment before she stretched out across the bed and parted her legs. He sucked in a breath, drawing in the scent of her, the essence of her arousal that was glistening wet against the lips of her sex.

  He plucked the bottle of lubricant from the bed and set it atop his bedside table.

  “If I am successful, we will not need this,” he said in answer to her question, hooking his arms within the crook of her thighs to splay her wide open.

  “But I thought—”

  His eyes twinkled, disarming her. “I said trust me.”

  Before she could say another word or protest, he dipped his head to bury his face against the dripping wet heat of her sex.

  Desire lanced through him as he stroked his tongue inside her, the heat of his arousal mingling with hers, coiling in his belly.

  Her soft gasp was a seductive whisper stroking over him, as warm and intimate as a kiss. He savoured her pleasure as he devoured her with his tongue and lips, until she poured forth her desire. Her body vibrated around him, her thighs trembling beneath his hands. When he closed his lips around her hard, tight bud, he was rewarded with her wet heat and a deep, stirring shudder that fired his blood. He moaned against the lips of her sex, sending tiny vibrations tingling through her.

  She gasped again, then cried out, her hands finding their way to his head to tangle in his unbound hair.

  Within minutes, he had Selena writhing beneath him, panting from his touch. He needed her to come, to climax against his mouth, to drench him with her essence. He spread the lips of her pussy with one hand, while he plunged two fingers from the other inside her.

  She cried out in pleasure, her back arching off the bed. Her body was tight around his fingers, clenching him like a fist. He bit back a groan, as he resisted the urge to cover her and bury his cock balls deep inside her heat.

  Soon.

  Soon he would have her desire, her pleasur
e.

  Soon she would fulfil his needs.

  Soon they would both yield to the mutual pleasure these long years apart had denied them, but this morning, with the first light of dawn, he wanted only to yield to her.

  Tremors raked their way through her as she dug her nails deeply into his scalp. She was close, her body trembling with need and pleasure.

  He pumped inside her faster, his fingers curling against the roof of her sheath until she splintered apart around him. He sucked on her nub until she begged him to stop then sat back to watch as waves of pleasure swamped her, leaving her flushed and spent.

  While she still lay there, nursing the afterglow of her orgasm, he speared her with two fingers, coating his fingers with her cum. She watched him through hooded eyes as he spread her cream over the rubber cock that bobbed back and forth against the harness.

  Understanding darkened her gaze and she stared at him in silence as he coated the long length of the cock with her cum until it was glistening wet.

  Without a word, he handed the harness over to her and watched her in rapt fascination, as she’d just watched him.

  She slipped it on as if it were a pair of lace panties. But instead of lace, the harness was fashioned out of leather with metal buckles against her hips that she adjusted until it fit her snugly. The rubber shaft was positioned over the mouth of her pussy so that every time she pushed inside him, it would push back against her.

  The thick, hard phallus held her attention as it bobbed in the air. When she touched it, stroking it as she’d stroked his shaft last night, he sucked in a breath, desire bubbling in his veins.

  His sharp intake of breath drew her attention, her gaze colliding with his.

  “How would you like me?” he asked her, even though this had been his idea, his fantasy.

  “I wish to look into your eyes as I fill you, as I give you pleasure. I want to glimpse every moment of your desire. I want to see you at the very moment you come.”

  Her words caused a knot to coil in his belly and tighten. Without breaking her stare, he lay down across the bed before her, flat on his back.