Ana Adored

by Anastasia Vitsky

  She bowed her head even more, but not before Miranda saw the tightening of her mouth, the quiver in her chin, and the glisten of watery tears touch her eyes.

  Miranda relented. "We'll take them as is," she told Casey.

  "Billed to which room?"

  "My own," Miranda said. She wasn't blind to the surprise Casey flashed her, but the attendant had worked here long enough not to question any Master's or Mistress's slight deviation from the normal protocol of billing the guest for extra touches like this. Ana was anything but a client, but Miranda wasn't about to stand there and justify that to either Casey, Ana, or the woman waiting in line behind them.

  Gathering their purchases, Miranda tapped Ana's arm and led her from the shop.

  "You did that on purpose," Ana accused, just as soon as they were in the hall. She barely waited long enough for the door to swing shut behind them. "You embarrassed me in front of those people!"

  "No more than your behavior embarrassed me."

  Stopping, Ana turned on her. Her lips were tight, her cheeks hot with humiliation, and her eyes glittering with an ever shifting mix of anger, confusion and uncertainty. "And what were you doing with that woman?"

  "That perfectly polite young woman standing in the checkout line behind us?" Miranda inquired, arching a warning brow. "I was being polite, which is what you should have been as well."

  Although out of the gift shop, they were not in private. Located just off the grand entrance hall, this corridor was very busy with a constant stream of Castle guests passing back and forth as they made their way to and from a wide variety of kinky destinations. Ana was either too upset to notice, or she was past the point of caring whether this conversation should be held in public, but Miranda wasn't. Taking her by the arm, she drew her into the nearest nook of a doorway, hoping neither of them would get smacked by the next unsuspecting soul to come out through it.

  "She was flirting with you!"

  "So what if she was?" Miranda countered. She caught Ana's shoulders when the smaller woman tried to turn away. Backing her up against the wall, Miranda pinned her there with little more than light hands resting on her shoulders and a hard look. "I am not Peyton."

  Ana started, reacting at once with surprise, shame and anger. "I know that."

  "I won't tolerate jealousy, nor will I ever treat you with that same disregard. If you trust me, then you need to trust me in all things. I will give you that same respect, especially when it comes to you speaking to and associating with others, be they men or women."

  Swallowing hard, Ana looked away. "I-I didn't like it when she touched… my things."

  "Am I included amongst your things?"

  That pointed question seemed to be the final douse of cooling water to the fires of Ana's already rapidly cooling temper.

  "No," she whispered, shaking her head. "I'm sorry. Are you very angry?"

  Catching Ana's trembling chin in the palm of her hand, Miranda forced her gaze up from the floor and back on her. She smiled softly, letting her thumb trace the curve of Ana's cheek before letting her kiss answer for her. One softly reassuring kiss turned with startling quickness into something deeply more. A flash of heat bloomed up from her belly, swelling in her breasts as Miranda shifted her hand, releasing Ana's chin in favor of cupping the back of her neck instead. Ana wasn't resisting, wasn't pulling away, but Miranda dominated the kiss anyway. She loved this, the shiver she felt coursing through Ana when her willing lips parted to admit the sweeping demands of her tongue. Her other arm swept Ana's waist, pulling her in crushingly close, offering support against the buckling of her knees. Not that Miranda herself was immune to the racing of her own pulse, sweeping excitement through her veins, stirring the heat of wanton throbbing in the pit of her womb.

  "I'm not angry," she managed as their mouths at last came apart. "Even if I was, I would still—" love you; Miranda shivered, "hold you in great fondness. Do you understand?"

  Ana nodded, the tiniest hesitant smile pulling at the corners of her kiss-swollen lips.

  "Let's go get our picture taken." Offering her hand, Miranda wove their fingers intimately together and, with Ana moving in close enough to rest her head upon Miranda's shoulder, led her from the alcove.

  Mistress Genni's Photo Gallery was located all the way back near the ballrooms, but Miranda didn't mind the walk. The bad feelings seemed banished; a sense of closeness between them remained. She was just enjoying the intimacy when they happened to pass Maybe's Candy Shop.

  "Would you like something sweet?" Miranda asked, pulling up short in front of the shop window. There were dozens of chocolate and caramel candy confections displayed along three-tiered display shelves.

  Ana lifted her head off Miranda's shoulder, taking interest in the candy shop as if she hadn't even noticed it before then. "Ooh," she said, looking over the display. She bent a little, getting a closer look through the glass at the chocolate handcuffs and the old-fashioned sugar confections, white topped with pink tips. She pointed. "What are those?"

  "Lady's Nipples," Miranda said with a smile. "Want to try one?"

  Ana straightened up, her cheeks pinkening even as she flashed a quick glance around before answering, "Why not? I've liked the ones I've sampled so far."

  "Oh, that sass," Miranda said, aiming her toward the door and giving her a swat. They both entered the candy shop giggling. It was like earlier that morning all over again, with Ana perched so happily on Fire Dancer's back. The last hour of unhappiness might as well never have happened, and watching Ana go through the candy displays (some of them perfectly normal in appearance and others as kinked out as Sinclair, their resident confectioner, could make them) filled her with light-hearted tenderness like nothing she'd known before. Under and beneath it still ran threads of grief and shock over what was happening with Don, nothing could detract from that, but Miranda still managed to smile. It took relatively little to make Ana happy. A little time, a little attention, a horse ride, a picture of the two of them together, and a little candy. It honestly didn't seem to matter. Perhaps it came from working with children, Miranda mused, and not for the first time she had to wonder if perhaps Ana had a bit of Little as tightly locked down inside her as her spanko side had been. If there was one, Miranda would find it, and she would set that free as well.

  "Oh, wow," Ana said, wandering over to the front of the store where carefully wrapped licorice bullwhips were hanging on display. Sinclair really was a genius when it came to kinky candy. A wide assortment of her skills lay in the glass case by the register: thumb-sized chocolate paddles, iced spanked-bottom cookies, and cupcakes decorated with sex toys, nipple clamps, and chains and restraints.

  "Do you see something you'd like?" Miranda asked, unnecessarily. Ana seemed to like everything as she walked through the entire store, her eyes wide, simply taking it all in.

  Saloon-style doors separated the baking half of the candy shop from the retail space. Now it whooshed open and Sinclair bustled through, her apron spattered with chocolate, her flyaway hair dusted with sugar, and that perpetual daub of frosting on her face—her cheek this time. In her hands, she carried a large silver tray of freshly-decorated cake balls; twinned up beneath a layer of pink or brown fondant and accented with curly frosting 'hairs' to better resemble their namesake.

  "Oh hi," she called to them, a quick grin covering her surprise. "I didn't hear you come in."

  "We're just looking," Miranda replied, following leisurely along behind Ana.

  "Take your time." Sinclair gave a grin, waiting until Ana's attention was back on the candy before mouthing, 'Congratulations.'

  Miranda offered a nod of stately acknowledgement. Too many people were way too interested in her dating life. She made up her mind to spend a little more time with Ana in public, and less time disappearing with her into the preferred privacy of her apartment.

  "Look at all the cookies," Ana exclaimed, all but pressed up to the glass case. She'd ducked down to better see the frosted designs on the
rows and rows of sugar cookies that were most popular with the Littles.

  Sinclair and Miranda exchanged similar indulgent smiles. Ana was, literally, like a kid in a candy store.

  "Did you make all these yourself—oh my God!" she broke off with a squeal. "She has horse cookies! That one looks like Fire Dancer!" Ana very nearly pressed both her hands and her nose up against the glass display before she caught herself and quickly pulled away. "They're so beautiful!"

  "Charge it to my account," Miranda murmured, just as those once lovely and now dreaded musical notes, 'What a Wonderful World' issued forth from her skirt pocket. It stopped everything in that little store, it seemed. Ana straightened slowly, her joy over the Fire Dancer cookies dissipating right before Miranda's eyes. Swallowing back a curse, Miranda fished her cell phone from her pocket. "Choose anything you want, Ana. I'll be right back."

  "That's okay," Ana said, that familiar dullness, always a sign of impending trouble, creeping into her tone. "You don't need to spend more money on me."

  If she'd been closer, Miranda would have swatted her. "I'll spend my money where I see fit. Don't tell me what I can and can't give you for a gift."

  "When do I get to give you a gift?"

  Wearily, Miranda approached her. "Any time you'd like, lovely. I know you haven't much, though. I'd be flattered just knowing you thought of me."

  Ana straightened a little and, with effort, managed to pull a little teasing in under the disappointment she was trying to hide. Turning to Sinclair, she said, "Do you have anything with Hershey's syrup? Miranda loves—"

  Without thinking, Miranda clapped a hand to Ana's skirted bottom with a resounding swat that broke up the resurging unhappiness. They both laughed. Tsking, shaking her head in mock disgust, Miranda ruffled her hair and then bent to catch her lips in a quick kiss. "I'll be right back."

  "I'll be waiting," Ana replied, and settled in at the counter to do just that. "I love you," she said, as sweetly and naturally as if she'd been asking for a glass of water.

  Had the phone not rung again, Miranda would have stolen another quick kiss. She, who could keep her composure through almost anything life threw at her, was near tears. I love you. She wanted to respond with "I love you, too," but the tender places of her heart ached.

  Knowing nothing she was about to hear on the other end of this phone call was going to be good, Miranda swiftly made her way to the door. She had to skirt an incoming guest as she exited and, as much as she hated to do it, she left Ana behind to find someplace relatively private to answer her phone.

  * * * * *

  "So, what do you think Miranda would like?" Sinclair asked, lining a to-go box with pastel pink and white tissue paper.

  Ana chose one each of the chocolate paddles and spanked bottom cookies. She deftly avoided the hairbrush cookies and, because she couldn't quite help herself, selected a second horse cookie, which she privately renamed the 'Fire Dancer Cookie'. She didn't have a lot of money, but she had enough for four edible treats. However, when she tried to make payment arrangements, explaining that her wallet was upstairs and if Sinclair didn't mind waiting, she would run up quickly and be right back, Sinclair waved away her promise to pay.

  "We don't take cash inside the Castle," she said. "It's always charged to guests' rooms, and Miranda already said she was paying."

  "Yes, but this is for me to give to her," Ana explained.

  "What's your room number?"

  Ana felt a pinch of disappointment, afraid she already knew what was going to happen next. "I'm staying with Miranda."

  Sinclair pressed her lips together, regarding Ana thoughtfully. "I tell you what," she said, pushing the box with Ana's gifts for Miranda across the counter toward her. "I'll have Parker talk to Master Marshall. Maybe we can arrange something, seeing as this is a special circumstance."

  Ana smiled back, grateful for a change that that was how they'd classified her. "Who's Parker?"

  Sinclair winked. "My special someone. Can I get you anything else?"

  "I could easily eat everything in this case," Ana confessed, then shook her head. "No, thanks. If we can't work something out with Master Marshall, how do I return these?"

  "No returns," Sinclair said with a grin. "Too late now. I earned my seven dollars and forty-three cents fair and square. Still, if there is a problem, I'm sure we can work something out. At the very least, maybe you can wash dishes for Cook Connie. Are you sure you wouldn't like something else? You know, we're now offering this awesome new program. I could set up a tarp in the back kitchen, heat up some edible paints, and you and Miranda could pass the next hour or so licking chocolate off each other's nipples…"

  Ana clapped a hand over her mouth, barely in time to keep back a bark of mortified laughter. She jumped back from the counter, as if her very proximity to it (and Sinclair) might make such a thing happen faster. In the privacy of Miranda's apartment, the warming in Ana's belly was a delicious reminder of just how appealing such an activity might be. But here, in the middle of Sinclair's candy shop…

  She snapped around to beat a hasty retreat, intending only to wait for Miranda at the door instead, and in her haste ran head-on into a very furry chest.

  "Don't you ever watch where you're going?" snapped a vaguely familiar and irritated voice.

  "I'm so very sor—" Ana's apology died in her throat when she recognized the man in the fox suit. He was still angry, that was the first thing she noticed. Or maybe it was again. Having not associated with the man since the first time she'd run into him, she honestly couldn't say whether he was angry all the time or if she wasn't just lucky enough to bring it out of him every time they, quite literally, bumped into one another. "Sorry," she finished lamely.

  "You ought to be," he said ungraciously, but slightly mollified. "This is twice you've tried to run me over. Be glad I'm already partnered with someone else, or I'd put you over my knee and teach you something about respect!"

  "Excuse me," Sinclair said, no longer smiling, her tone fairly dripping with ice. "That is neither kind nor appropriate."

  "Butt out," the man in the fox suit said, pulling off his mask and holding up a silencing finger. "I'm not talking to you, and when I am, you'll know it because I'll be looking at you."

  Sinclair's eyes widened, both with shock and outrage. "I beg your pardon?"

  "It's not you I want to hear apologies from." The angry fox glared down at Ana, who edged back a step.

  She hated confrontations. She'd never been very good at them, and this one already left her feeling sick to her stomach.

  "Excuse me." Ana had no choice but to try going around him. He was standing broadly between her and the door, but even as she tried to retreat, he caught hold of her elbow, knocking the box of candies right out of her arm when he jerked her back around.

  "I did not dismiss you yet," he said coldly.

  "Hey!" Sinclair snapped, charging around the counter to intervene. "Get your hands off her, you do not have consent! I will call security, I swear to God!"

  Wrenching her arm free, Ana dropped to her knees, barely rescuing her box before he stepped on it. Maybe it was because her phone hit her leg, or because the pockets of her skirts were shallow and never meant to hold anything as illicit as her cell phone, but for whatever reason, she was scrambling to save the cookies when it fell out onto the floor. She grabbed wildly for that now too, but the angry man got it first. Ana snatched after it, but he yanked it up out of her reach, staring first at it and then at her.

  "You just don't follow any of the rules, do you?" he said, his eyes narrowing. "Maybe that's because a spanking is exactly what you want."

  The box of cookies forgotten, Ana jerked back, but not fast enough. He caught her by the scruff of her dress, hauling her clumsily to her feet.

  "Onions!" Sinclair yelled, grabbing Ana's other arm in an effort to protect her.

  An instant crackle of a hidden speaker system came on. "Dominant, cease your play. Security has been dispatched. Submissive,
we're coming to get you. Are you all right?"

  "No!" Ana and Sinclair cried in chorus.

  "I haven't fucking touched either one of them," the angry man barked toward the ceiling, but if anything the interruption only made him angrier. "Yet." The look he leveled on Ana positively seethed. "Come with me."

  Sinclair latched onto Ana with both arms now, digging in with both legs to keep the man from dragging her away. "Onions!"

  "I said, security has been dispatched!" the voice from the ceiling ordered. "Stand down. Move to the opposite side of the room. Submissive, tell me when he has obeyed."

  "He has my arm!" Ana locked her legs now too. She tried to catch the man's other arm, but so much bigger than she was, he simply shook her off. And then he shoved Sinclair off, pushing her back into the display counter so hard the glass rattled.

  The furious redhead came back like an octopus, wrapping Ana with both arms and legs, heaving with all her might to drop them both to the ground and make it that much harder for him to drag her away. It was the stuff of nightmares, one that Ana, in all her limited experience, had no idea how to deal with. To her horror, she burst into tears, the most ineffective course of action she could have taken. With the whole shop now swimming behind a blinding sheen of water, she grabbed onto Sinclair in turn, shouting only once when the man shifted his grip from her arm to her hair.

  "Get up!"

  Ana and Sinclair both grabbed his hand now. The pain was like being scalped, but it was short-lived, because in the next instant the nightmare came to an abrupt end when the man suddenly released Ana entirely, sending her crashing into Sinclair on the floor. All four limbs scrambling, Sinclair plastered herself against the display case, dragging Ana back with her every inch of the way. She was panting, her blue eyes shockingly wide and frightened. Ana could feel the franticness in her hands, which continuously alternated between anxious clutching and faltering pats of comfort.

  Her arms thrown over her head to protect her smarting scalp, it wasn't until she heard the icy fury of a clipped British accent—"Get your bloody hands off my submissive!"—that she realized what had stopped the attack.