“Who are you talking about punishing?” Marc asked. “That was just a silly game.”
“Don’t worry, Doc,” Adam assured him with a chuckle. “We aren’t talking about anything remotely like the interrogation scene. Just a few whacks with one of those paddles—one for each of the six times you couldn’t agree.”
“How’s that a punishment for Angelina?” Marc argued. “She loves being spanked.”
Angelina had to admit her heartbeat ramped up at the thought of a good, hard spanking tonight. Poor Marc. He hated being paddled, although she doubted his friends would take this too far.
“You’re absolutely right. That’s why Angelina is going to be the one wielding the paddle.”
Had she heard Adam correctly?
“Come again?” Marc asked.
Apparently so. No way was she interested in topping her man again. “I don’t think—”
“Nor should you,” Adam said in his Dom voice, brooking no further discussion.
Now Angelina could see how this would be a punishment for her as well. She waited to see how this would develop as a scene. “Angelina, choose the position you want him in.”
Could she do this? Marc hadn’t responded well when she’d tried paddling him before. The women from his past had done a number on him, and she didn’t want to stir up those emotions in him again.
“Let’s get this over with, pet.”
He wanted to go through with it? She glanced around the room, noticing the loveseat just to the right of the stage. No, she wouldn’t do anything that would mimic the paddling episodes from his past. Then she saw the center post where he’d restrained and flogged her the first time they played together here. She pointed to the post, “I’d like him restrained there with his hands above his head.”
Adam dug a pair of leather wrist cuffs from his toy bag and tossed them to her. She caught them deftly before Adam said, “That’s your job, Mistress Angelina.”
He hadn’t called her Mistress A, which led her to believe Marc had never revealed that she’d topped him once before. She liked that Adam didn’t know everything about their bedroom relationship and smiled as she closed the gap between her and Marc.
“Sir, it pains me to have to do this, but do you agree to this short-term power reversal?”
He pressed his lips together, flattening them out as he glanced at Adam. Would Marc go through with it?
“I’m not sure I have a choice.”
Oh, Marc. Her heart ached for him. “You always have a choice if I’m in charge,” she assured him.
His gaze zeroed in on her, and his mouth relaxed a little. “I taught you well.”
Her heart grew warm at his acknowledgement and his apparent acquiescence. “Indeed, you did.” She squared her shoulders and held up the first cuff between them. “If you’re ready, left wrist, please.”
Soon she had both of his wrists cuffed and clipped together and led him to the post where she asked Adam to assist her in lifting Marc’s hands high enough over his head.
“Up on those toes, boy,” she ordered. In his leathers, she couldn’t really ask him to spread his legs as wide as he’d had her do that first time he’d chained her to this same post.
Adam pulled Marc’s wrists higher until he was indeed on tiptoe. Then he stepped aside. “Those have panic snaps, Marc, to lower your anxiety level. But I’d better hear you safeword before you bail on the scene.” Adam turned to Angelina. “He’s all yours, Mistress.”
Chapter Six
Fuck Adam, anyway, for putting him in this position. He knew Marc had an aversion to paddles, restraints, and to relinquishing control. What was the point in this ridiculous game anyway? Make him look like a fool in front of his bride-to-be?
Angelina closed the gap and whispered in Marc’s ear, “What are your safewords, boy?”
He could tell she was getting into this mistress role again. Sure, the last time had some moments Marc still fantasized about recreating—not that he’d ever asked her to do so—but he’d also had a freak-out during that session he didn’t want to repeat in front of his friends or Angelina.
“Red.” He wasn’t in the mood to come up with a playful word or some kind of food like cannoli. But he’d heed Adam’s warning. “Yellow to slow down.”
Marc stared at the quick-release snap above him, his safeword on the tip of his tongue while his thumb and forefinger hovered over the mechanism. He could put an end to this in an instant.
She tapped the paddle against the backs of his thighs a few times. “Do you trust me?”
Marc tested his bonds, clenching and unclenching his hands as he tried to prepare himself mentally to be paddled. Sweat broke out on his forehead. Wanting to wipe the telltale sign of nervousness away, he leaned his head against his bicep and gave it a slight turn. Being left vulnerable was not a pleasant feeling or one he wanted to indulge in, especially around Angelina. He was supposed to be the strong one.
Had she been in on this setup from the beginning? If so, she was a damned good actress, because she seemed as surprised as he when Adam proposed this consequence for their not agreeing on more of their responses in that asinine game.
Deep down, though, Marc knew this was all Adam’s doing and that he and Angelina were Adam’s pawns. Refusing to make eye contact with anyone, Marc dropped his head and hunched closer to the post. Escape. Hide. Realizing what he was doing, he pulled away again and placed his focus on the wood grain of the post.
“I asked you a question, S—Marc,” Angelina said. Her uncertainty tore at him. Gesù, would he ever be able to convince her how much he trusted her? Was this his chance to convey that through actions instead of words?
In a flash, it became crystal clear what Adam was up to. Marc was about to say I do to this woman for the rest of his life, and Adam wanted to make sure Marc was indeed ready to forever surrender his heart—and his trust—to her.
Bastardo. But Adam was right, as usual. He needed this.
Marc took a deep breath and released it. “Yes, Mistress, I trust you.” As if a weight had been lifted off him, an awareness came over him telling Marc he truly did. “I trust you with my life, amore.” He relaxed completely, becoming one with the post and preparing himself for the paddle.
Angelina delivered the first half-hearted blow to his left ass cheek. He couldn’t resist taunting her now that he was getting into the spirit of the game. “I think you can do better than that, Mistress.”
“Topping from the bottom, boy? Remember your place.” Angelina giggled, probably amused that his brat was disciplining her own brat at the moment. All the same, the next blow hit harder on the same spot, followed by an even harder one on the right cheek. Incredibly, he didn’t trigger or find himself lost in the past. In fact, as Angelina rained a few more blows onto his ass, his cock started to grow hard.
Might be a little embarrassing when she released him from this post, but knowing that he’d passed the test and was actually enjoying a paddling at the hands of his woman left him too elated to care.
When the paddling stopped, Angelina raked her fingernails down his ass cheeks through the leathers before pressing her body against his. “How is my boy feeling?” she whispered.
“Like he wants to take you into one of the theme rooms and fuck you blind.”
Her hips jerked involuntarily against him. “I think that can be arranged.”
“What about the party?”
“Everyone’s left us alone.”
Seriously? “Are you kidding me?”
“No, not kidding.” She laughed as she moved to his side. “You can extricate yourself now, since I can’t reach that high.”
He released the panic snap and lowered his hands for her to unbuckle each cuff. Once freed, he turned around and scanned the great room. Sure enough, they were alone. For how long? He’d thank Adam later for sparing him any humiliation in case he had bailed on the scene. Adam had already achieved his goal—getting Marc to see how deeply he trusted Angelina. She wa
s the first woman he’d trusted outside his mother and sister.
Without warning, he bent and picked her up, carrying her down the hallway to the impact room, their favorite. In the hallway, he heard laughter coming from the kitchen, where apparently the party had been moved without them. Fine by him.
Inside theme room eight, he eyed the Saint Andrew’s cross. Angelina had long ago faced her demons from the beating she’d received in this room from that asshole Allen. But he wanted to deliver a flogging she’d never forget, so that’s where they would begin. He spied his toy bag in the corner.
Thank you, Adam. He must have moved it here while Marc was tied up, so to speak. Adam had taken care of him yet again.
“Strip for me.”
Angelina looked him in the eye momentarily then dropped her gaze to the floor as she slowly removed her blouse. He’d seamlessly taken back control. While she did get into playing the dominant in short runs, ultimately she was a submissive. His submissive.
She wore a bustier much like the one she’d worn the first time he’d flogged her. He didn’t let her keep it on this time. He wanted to see those gorgeous tits in all their glory.
And Angelina never disappointed. Her nipples were hard as pebbles by the time she slipped the lacy garment off. He wasted no time moving closer and taking one nipple between his teeth and tugging while pinching the other. She gasped, pushing against his mouth for more. He suckled, drawing the rigid peak into his mouth as he pressed his tongue against the bottom of her nipple to suck harder. Her hands wrapped around his head, holding him there, but he pulled away.
“Finish stripping for me, amore.”
She quickly shed the skirt and panties and stood naked before him. His cock jerked against his leathers.
“Now, I think perhaps it’s time for you to feel the squeeze of my cuffs.”
She held out her arms, eager to continue. Normally, he’d want to make her wait, but he had no patience tonight. She’d stirred a fire in him he wanted quenched—soon. He didn’t intend to have blue balls tonight.
After securing her spread-eagle facing the Saint Andrew’s cross with ankle and wrist cuffs, he removed a pair of long floggers from his bag and began warming up. Every now and then, the tips would strike her back or ass and she’d clench her hands, but he didn’t begin flogging her immediately. He moved next to her, pressing his cock against her to show her how she affected him.
She moaned, a delicious sound. When he reached in front of her and between her legs, he found her wet and ready for him. With a groan, he pulled away. He at least needed to reward her with a flogging for what she’d helped him realize tonight.
Parting her hair to bare her back to him, he placed the thick locks over each shoulder to rest on her breasts. Taking up his position slightly farther than a yard away, he started the floggers in motion in Florentine style, alternating hands and developing his rhythm. He started on her shoulders and upper back then skipped over the kidney area before speeding up as the falls rained down on her ass and thighs.
She hissed, clenching her hands again. He kept her on edge and guessing where and when the next set of blows would fall. Her ass and shoulders turned red as he continued relentlessly for the next fifteen minutes.
Her head lolled to the side. Had he gotten her to subspace? Well, hell. He set the floggers on the spanking bench and moved to Angelina’s side.
“Cara, can you hear me?”
She moaned, smiling. He lifted her eyelid and found her pupil dilated and unresponsive. He groaned. He’d given her the pleasure she’d deserved, but clearly, they wouldn’t be having sex until she came out of it. Angelina didn’t orgasm while in subspace. Perhaps no woman could.
Carefully, he removed the ankle cuffs and wrist cuffs, and she slipped into his arms. They’d pick up where they left off later, but she’d earned her reward after her performance as Mistress A. Marc carried her to the harem room, thankful it wasn’t occupied, and laid her gently on the raised circular mattress. Shucking his own clothes, he joined her, pulling her against his hard body—every inch of which was still hard—and stroked her arm as he whispered soothing words to her. Anticipation was good for them both.
A smile flitted across her lips as if she’d overheard his thought. He lowered his lips to hers, brushing them lightly, eliciting a sleepy moan from her.
He fully intended to be chasing after this woman the rest of his life and hoped that they’d be blessed with many, many bliss-filled years together.
Chapter Seven
Rehearsal had gone well, and they had all gathered afterward at Rico Donati’s bar, daVinci’s, for some fabulous food from Bella Montagna provided by his family as the hosts for the meal. Then came time for the traditional speeches. This ought to be interesting. Would anyone take this opportunity to roast him?
“Thank you for being here tonight,” Papa D’Alessio began, “and I again welcome those who traveled some distance, whether from Denver or from Italy.” He paused and turned his attention to Marc. “I will never forget the day you came into my life. You had a delightful way of charming those around you and a smile that could win over anyone.”
Hearing Papa, the man who raised him, telling stories of what Marc had been like as a young boy warmed him in unexpected ways. His love for Papa matched how he felt about Adam, although the latter was more like a big brother figure. They would always be the two most important men in his life, having helped shape him into the man he was today.
“Imagine our joy when Marco brought Angelina home to meet us that first time. She won us over in an instant. Mama and I had no doubt that she was the perfect woman for our Marco. Right, Mama?” He gazed at his wife, who nodded, dabbing tears from her eyes.
“Angelina,” Papa continued, “you will officially become our second daughter tomorrow, but I raise this glass to you tonight to tell you that you can’t be any more loved by us than you already are. Benvenuta in famiglia!”
He and everyone in the room raised a glass in Angelina’s direction. She, too, had tears in her eyes at the warm welcome he’d given her and mouthed the words thank you to Papa.
After Papa took his seat again between Sandro and Mama, Marc leaned over to whisper in her ear, “You’ll be the best part of the family.”
“Oh, Marc, I love your family. Every single one of you. And I’m proud to be a member of it.”
Without introduction, Rafe’s voice penetrated their private bubble. “I’ll never forget the first Sunday Angelina brought Marc home for a family dinner. My little sister hadn’t brought many boys home growing up, and I think we all took notice, wondering what was so special about this one.” He paused a moment, letting the words hang there, before adding, “…to Angelina.”
Rafe’s piercing gaze bore into Marc as they were surrounded with laughter. Marc hoped that, by the time he and Angelina celebrated their golden wedding anniversary, he’d have won over all four of his brothers-in-law but especially Rafe. As the family patriarch in the absence of their father, it would be important to Angelina that Rafe accept and approve of him. Marc had screwed up more than a few times and could understand her brother’s reluctance when it came to allowing Marc to marry his baby sister.
“But over the past few months and especially tonight,” Rafe continued, “I’ve seen the way he looks at her, the way his family has welcomed her, and the way he made sure earlier that she ate something despite her pre-wedding jitters.” The man was quite perceptive; Marc hadn’t been aware of his scrutiny. “Marc, we won’t have any problems as long as you remain faithful to my baby sister, continue to gaze at Angelina with love, and cherish her as the beautiful gift she is for the rest of your life.”
Ignoring the underlying threat in Rafe’s words, Marc raised his glass in salute to his future brother-in-law then turned to Angelina, whose eyes brimmed with tears. “It will be my greatest honor and privilege to do so.”
* * *
Hearing Rafe’s acceptance of the man she loved left her speechless and in tear
s, but even before Rafe had taken his seat, someone across the room tapped a knife against a glass to gain everyone’s attention. Angelina turned in the direction of the sound and saw Rico standing with a glass of white wine in hand. What did he have planned? She hadn’t expected toasts or speeches from anyone but family and the wedding party tonight.
“Friends and family of Angelina and Marc,” he began, “thank you for being here with them to celebrate tonight. Raise your glass in a toast as we prepare to send them off tomorrow on the first day of their journey together as husband and wife.”
Everyone raised their glass and drank. Marc shouted, “Thank you for opening your doors for us to have this private party with friends and family, Rico!”
Rico waved away his thanks. “I’m not sure how many of you know this, but this is the very location where Marc found Angelina and their journey together began.”
Angelina’s face flamed, but she didn’t correct Rico’s assumption. No way would she admit Marc actually found her being beaten in a private room at his BDSM Club. Only a handful of people present were aware of what happened that night, and she refused to make eye contact with any of them.
Marc leaned over and whispered, “Smile, amore, or you’re going to give the appearance of being guilty.”
She glanced his way and couldn’t help but smile at their somewhat private secret. He placed a kiss on her cheek, and she heard a few women say, “Aww.”
“Okay, you two, hold off until tomorrow night,” Rico said jokingly. “I have something important to say.” When he had their attention again, he continued. “Angelina gave me a gift many years ago, something precious to her that caused her pain because it was too closely wrapped up with the memories of her beloved papa.”
Papa’s Dean Martin vinyl collection had been exactly that—painful to listen to. Mama had insisted that they go to her, but Angelina had difficulty listening to them without tears after Papa passed away. Knowing Rico and his patrons would enjoy them, she’d donated them to him. Lately, however, she’d begun seeking out old Dino tunes on her music app when feeling nostalgic for Papa. Hearing them tonight during their dinner had produced fond memories but no tears.
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