Close Protection (Blood Brothers #2)

by Manda Mellett

  I’m nervous because I don’t know what to expect, but amazingly not scared. Will it hurt? Well, of course, it will bloody hurt! But how much? I’m more worried I won’t be able to take it and will disappoint Jon. My Dom!

  Shaking with anticipation, perhaps, but not fright, as I’m armed with the knowledge I can stop this at any time. While Jon’s tactile reassurance continues, I hear someone come up and speak to Jon. In my position, it’s not possible to see who, but I recognise the voice and shiver as I realise it’s Donavan, he’s talking quietly, but I’m just able to catch what he is saying,

  He’s taking some of the blame. According to Diamond, Donavan’s a novice Dom. She’d suggested he might have been as nervous asking me, as I was to hear him, and that had made him over brusque in how he’d approached me. In her view, it had been mostly his fault. He’d gone about it all wrong and had been totally out of line. But she’d also confirmed what I already knew; my reaction had been over the top, and that Jon wouldn’t be able to let me get away with that. I like Diamond; she’s frank and honest.

  Lying still and waiting, wondering when he’s going to start, knowing I’m about to be spanked, all manner of thoughts going through my head. I don’t want to take the easy way out, despite him offering it to me.. I’m still trying to process that he’s as attracted to me as I am to him and how that makes me feel.

  I never would have believed I’d be in this position. I suppress a giggle, as I realise what excellent research this is, though I never thought I’d be taking the practical! How much better I’ll be able to write if I know what would be in my character’s head at this precise moment. Though I’ll still have to make up the pleasure side of it, I really can’t see how being spanked could be enjoyable, especially if it’s punishment. I’m glad Jon didn’t restrain me; I think I would have flipped if he had, that definitely would be another trigger. Knowing I’m staying here of my own free will is enabling.

  He’s given me the time I need to settle, letting me churn things around in my head and come to terms with the situation I’m in. Not once has his hand stopped touching me, soothing me. Now, I’m anxious now for him to start. The sooner he begins, the sooner it will be over and done with.

  He’s rubbing me now. I’ve written about this and know he’ll be bringing the blood to the surface of my skin of my buttock cheeks so I don’t bruise. No one’s ever touched me so intimately and so gently. I like it. Before I can process that thought, without warning, his hand lifts and comes down. Hard. Fuck that hurt! It was harsher than I was expecting, the whack pushing me out of position. Now I tense, waiting for the next one, not sure if I’ll be able to take much more, but willing to give at least another try. When nothing happens, I remember that I have to move back into position. I shift my bum and steady myself.

  His hand gently touches my back. “Relax, don’t tense.”

  I take a breath and try to let the tension leave my body. Easier said than done.

  Thwack!

  I move forwards again with the blow, but get back into position quicker this time, and relax without the prompt. The third one follows. My skin feels alive, stinging and burning, but as my body processes the pain it has an effect I didn’t expect. I get a tingling feeling in between my legs and realise I’m wet with arousal and the knowledge makes me squirm in embarrassment, remembering my exposed position.

  “Give me a colour.” His voice breaks into my concentration.

  For a moment it’s I have difficulty understanding what he’s asking, then it’s the truth that comes out when the word leaves my mouth in a gasp, “Green.”

  I’m not moving so much now, almost leaning back into his hand as it contacts with my rear. He spanks me on the upper thigh, and that one hurts, and he quickly follows it up with another on the other side. Warmth floods through me as more blows come; raining down one after the other. I begin to move into them; my clit is throbbing now, my womb contracting. I don’t know what I’m thinking, it’s impossible to do anything other than feel. There are tears on my face, but I’m not upset. I don’t know why I started to cry.

  Then all of a sudden, he stops, “All done, Mia.” He leans over me, massaging and caressing my sore bum cheeks, “Colour?”

  I’m almost upset it’s over and have no hesitation in telling him, “Green.”

  He whispers into my ear. “I’m going to touch you now.”

  I’m uncertain, not grasping what he means so nod, not quite sure if he was asking permission or warning me what he’s going to do, but he seemed to be waiting for my gesture. And then I find out why he cautioned me, his hand moves slowly down my back, over my burning backside until he slides it below me, into that private place that has been untouched for seven years. I freeze, the word Red coming to my lips, but the desire to utter it retreats as he begins to stroke gently from my clit to my opening; his fingers gliding smoothly with no resistance, and I try to hide my face as I know I’m blushing deep red.

  “You’re very wet, sweetheart.”

  I’m well aware of that and mortified he must realise how much the spanking turned me on.

  “Will you stay here for me? There’s something I want to try, something I think you’ll like. I won’t hurt you.”

  At the moment, I’m frightened to move, scared he might be able to read my expression and know just what he’s doing to me. Then I remember he’s an experienced Dom, he’s probably very much aware without me voluntarily giving it away. I want to please him, more than anything. I don’t feel capable of producing words, so I again, I just bob my head to indicate my compliance.

  He leaves me briefly but returns before I have a chance to become worried. Again he brushes his hands over my back, and then he lifts them. The next thing is a light dusting of something, and I’m puzzled for a second before I realise he must using a flogger. But oh, so gently. The feeling is incredible, as though he’s massaging my entire back, bum and thighs. I lean into the flogging; the sensation almost too good. Seeing my reaction he puts more force into the blows, but it’s not causing pain, just a slight stinging that’s making my back feel warm like being exposed to the sun. My womb and every internal muscle start to pulse, and quivers run up and down my spine as my arousal increases tenfold. My clit feels swollen; I’m tingling all over.

  As though from a distance I hear the sound of the flogger hitting the floor as he throws down. Then his hand touches me once more. I no longer have the energy to be embarrassed, even though I know I’m so wet my moisture is starting to run down my legs. I let out a moan, unable to hold it back as his touch feels so good. He keeps stroking me, gently, circling his fingers around my clit, getting closer and closer to where I need them, but not invading me, not pushing inside. As I relax, trusting him not to go further than I’m ready for, I move instinctively, trying to get him to the right spot, but he’s the one in control, putting his other hand on the middle of my back, holding me still. Expertly he circles his fingers, getting nearer, until finally reaching that bundle of nerves where I so desperately need his touch. His fingers start strumming. My tension builds again, but this time not from apprehension. I’ve never felt anything like this before; my womb is clenching rhythmically, and every muscle in my body goes taut. I’m completely out of control, and I don’t know what to do.

  “Let it happen; I’ve got you.” His voice both commands and soothes me, “Come for me.”

  My lungs stop inhaling air; an intense feeling rises inside me like an explosion, and suddenly I’m falling, waves and waves of ecstasy flooding over me. Then he’s stroking and soothing me, bringing me back down to earth. My tears start to fall in earnest, wracking sobs shaking my body, and my mind floats away.

  I come to slowly, consciousness gradually returning to find I’m lying cuddled close on Jon’s lap covered with a soft blanket. We’re sitting on a couch, and he’s holding my head tight to his chest, his warm, smooth skin wet with my tears. I turn even closer into his body and wrap my arms around him. Never before have I felt this emotional, n
or had the desperate need to be in such intimate proximity to anyone. As soon as he realises I’m awake he kisses the top of my head. He speaks to someone, thanking them: I feel, as well as hear, his voice rumbling against my ear.

  Now he returns his attention to me, lifting my chin until reluctantly I’m forced to look at him, I’m embarrassed, and fearful of what I’ll see on his face. But he’s smiling, he looks pleased and happy. “Alright?” he asks me, reaching around me to get a bottle of water and bringing it to my mouth. As he tells me to drink, I realise I’m parched. Taking hold of the bottle, I greedily quench my thirst.

  As the cool liquid refreshes me, I realise exactly how much he’s done for me; he’s given me something I never thought I’d have. He’s pushed me to experience things I’ve only ever read and written about, leaving me beyond grateful. Abruptly I realise he’s awoken a craving inside. I want more. I want it all. Pushing the bottle of water away, I grab what little courage I have, getting out the words before I have a chance to change my mind. “Fuck me, Jon.”

  His face doesn’t change as he shakes his head, still looking at me oh so gently, as he resolutely refuses my request, “No, Mia.”

  At once I’m ashamed, my feelings of euphoria vanish. Jon’s rejecting me. What’s wrong with me? My thoughts of not being enough for him were obviously right. He doesn’t want me. “Why? Why not?” It comes out as a whisper, but I have to know, have to hear him say he doesn’t want to get involved with someone as inexperienced as me. Let’s face it; I didn’t exactly show myself in a good light tonight.

  He strokes his hand over my face, “Not here.” He tells me softly.

  What does he mean? Then I remember what he’s said to me, no sex in the main room. “What about the private rooms?” I have one more try; it kills me that he’s turning me down. Doesn’t he know how much nerve it took to ask? I look away from him, humiliated.

  He doesn’t let me get away with that, turning my head so I’m forced to face him again. “For one thing, sweetheart, it’s against the rules of the club because you haven’t submitted your test results yet.”

  “But I haven’t had sex…”

  He lays his finger on my lips to silence me. “I know. But rules are rules. I’m a Master Dom here, Mia, and co-owner of the club. I can’t be seen to disregard the safety measures we’ve put in place.”

  I start a little. He owns the club? My eyes narrow in confusion.

  “And anyway, I’m not going to fuck you, sweetheart. When I take you to bed, we won’t be fucking; we’ll be making love. At least, the first time.” With those words, he reaches down and touches his lips to mine. I’m so taken aback by his words, which don’t appear to spell out the rejection I feared, that I allow him easy access, and his tongue sweeps into my mouth. I may be inexperienced but there’s much more than just lust in his kiss, there’s emotion too. Responding with everything I have, I try to let him know through the mating of our mouths that my feelings run deep for him as well.

  It’s some minutes before we break apart. Pulling my head into his chest he rests his chin on my hair, after staying in that position for a few seconds, he then gently pushes me away.

  “Time to go,” he murmurs. Stretching out his hand, he picks up the clothes that had been so thoughtlessly discarded earlier and, loosening the blanket slightly to give him access, slips my corset back on and gently starts lacing it up. “Second time tonight, Mia.” He laughs. “I’ll be getting a reputation for putting clothes on!”

  I sob and laugh all at the same time. He hands me my skirt, and I wriggle into it, and then accept his help to rise to my feet. Cognisant I’m missing something, I hold out my hand. He cocks his head to one side as though he doesn’t understand.

  “Thong?” I prompt him.

  He chuckles. “I’m hanging onto that.”

  Chapter 17

  Jon

  Three years ago

  I was declared fit and returned to full duty some five months ago, delighted to get back to my role of providing close protection to Nijad, jet-setting all over Europe, and even a couple of flying visits to the States. My life was never dull.

  Now I was returning to Paris with the sheikh, having spent the last couple of weeks making one of his obligatory family visits to Amahad. Seated in the comfort of the Kassis family jet, I was enjoying a quiet laugh to myself at Nijad’s expense. The, admittedly very attractive, flight attendant was blatantly making her availability for a quickie in the bedroom at the rear of the plane quite obvious to him. I had to grin. His draw for women was legendary with his devastating good looks which even I had to admire, even if I was a fully paid-up member of the het club myself. Of course, his vast fortune didn’t hurt either. But I knew he wouldn't take her up on the offer, he’d got a girlfriend in the French city at that time, and while he could be a womaniser, once Nijad was committed to someone, he practised strict fidelity while he was with them.

  After I had watched him turn her down with the ease of long practice, I thought about the weeks ahead in Paris. In this European city, my workload would be light. Nijad enjoyed his independence and relative, fiercely protected anonymity there so I wouldn’t need to be with him twenty-four-seven, only accompanying him when he had an official engagement. Of course, the palace assumed I was with him full-time, but I’d long given up trying to argue with him. He was adamant he didn’t need that level of protection in that city. But I was never far away, staying close by his apartment in a small but comfortable pension.

  I parted company with Nijad at the airport. He collected his beautiful Agusta motorbike which he’d left in storage, one so rare, even with my new fortune I wouldn’t have been able to get my hands on the same model. So I watched, with not a little envy, as the leather-clad biker sheikh disappeared into the distance. Then I went and collected the standard Grade A owned SUV from the long term car park. It was just another return to Paris, exactly like any other.

  Present day

  Grinning, I see Mia wanting to protest when I refuse to part with her thong, but as she’s still partly dazed from the events of the night she accepts it with just a little show of outrage, followed by a huff of a laugh. I couldn’t have been more proud of this woman tonight; I’ve pushed her boundaries far beyond anything I’d expected to. I took a risk in touching her so intimately, all the time watching in case my touch parachuted her back into her nightmares, but her reaction was more than I could have dreamed.

  I’d been monitoring her closely, more judiciously than I’d ever observed a sub before. My total concentration on every minuscule response of her body, reading her reactions second by second, ready to stop the instant I took her too far. My complete absorption in her reactions shooting me into Dom space, something I didn’t expect to achieve tonight. After years of working with a vast variety of subs I’ve become jaded, and with anyone else getting me to that same level of satisfaction would have involved a complex and lengthy scene. But with Mia? Her reactions had been so genuine, her surprised pleasure in the response of her body affected me on a level deep down inside me, and not purely in a physical way.

  Her tears seem to have been liberating. She shows no guilt or remorse after her very public display and that out of the blue offer to take things a step further blindsided me. Although I could do with the release she was offering, I can go without for now. Yes, before long I’ll be fucking Mia, but it will be at the right place, at the right time, so I can make it special for her. She deserves that. But I won’t be waiting long; it will happen, very soon. And tonight we’ll be sleeping in the same bed. She’ll have no say about that.

  Diamond was, well, a real diamond tonight, reading the riot act to Donavan, taking care of Mia and even offering to clean the equipment so I could focus on my girl and make sure she came down gently from the subspace she’d so obviously achieved. As I lead Mia across the main room, I seek out Diamond again, asking one more favour of her, to go and get Mia’s coat with her, staying to keep her company while I’m changing back into my stree
t clothes. I remain anxious not to leave her alone.

  When I come back out to the lobby, I grin as I see Mia’s writing down Diamond’s phone number. It pleases me she seems to have made a friend. Whether she’ll make contact for support or knowing her, it might be for research, but either way, the girls appear to get on.

  And thus Mia’s first visit to Club Tiacapan, my club, the place I’m so proud of, is over. I hope it won’t be her last.

  The ride home is uneventful, hardly any traffic this time on a Saturday night, or rather early Sunday morning, so I take the route passing through the city of London, taking advantage that there’s no congestion charge on a weekend. A few revellers are still out in Piccadilly Circus, but that’s only to be expected. Once back at Docklands, as we take the lift to my apartment she leans on me; it’s not hard to tell she’s already half asleep. Inside, I take her straight through to my bedroom. She sways, as I leave her briefly to turn back the bed and I can tell she’s dead on her feet. I take off her coat and start to undress her. Her eyes widen, and she puts on hands on mine. Her earlier courage has fled her, and she’s now worried about how this night might end so hurriedly I reassure her.

  “You’re sleeping with me tonight, sweetheart. Just sleeping, lying in the same bed. Nothing else is going to happen.”

  She gazes at me as if determining whether I'm being honest, while at the same time, trying to stifle a huge yawn. It’s noisy, and as she puts her hand over her mouth, in embarrassment, she giggles as she tries to suppress it. It breaks the tension of the moment. “I’m going to fall asleep before I get into bed.” She tells me with a tentative smile.

  I move my hands, and she takes hers away and lets them fall to her sides, giving me non-verbal permission to continue what I was doing. I’m honoured by her trust, as I take off her corset and skirt. Then I lift her naked body and place her on the bed. This last day has been an all too welcome interlude from the unwanted attentions of the person threatening her, but tomorrow’s another day, he won’t have given up. But at least, for now, those horrors seem far away. And the events of tonight have helped her forget them; she’s more at ease than I’ve ever seen her.