Identity Crisis (Blood Brothers #4)

by Manda Mellett

  She’s given up with the coffee and is now tapping her fingers against her lips, as though in thought. “You’re a switch, aren’t you? That’s why you were sent in on Mia’s case. Doesn’t that mean you’re submissive as well?”

  I chuckle, “Sometimes, babe, yes. Sometimes I’m as happy as the next sub to give all my control over to someone. It’s incredibly freeing.” Or I was.

  A strange glint comes into her eyes, “So, as a sub, you have to make your Dom happy?”

  Now I laugh, ““Look, there’s a symbiotic relationship between the Dom and his sub. Doms have an innate desire to make their subs happy. And will take their pleasure from that.”

  Her brow furrows, forming a delightful little V over the bridge of her nose. I can see she still doesn’t really understand.

  “So, what you’re saying… In these clubs, there is no expectation on either side of anything permanent?”

  “Oh, people exchange real names and telephone numbers if they want to take it further, just like in any other walk of life. But many subs and Doms use fake names for anonymity, so don’t have a clue who each other are outside of the clubs.” Feeling all talked out and that I’ve tried to explain it as best I can, I decide to call it a night. “Come on; I’ll get the bill, and we’ll go back to the compound. I don’t know about you, but I’m knackered.”

  As I’m getting to my feet, my right leg protesting as I’ve been semi-lying on it for so long, she puts a hand on my arm. “But there aren’t any BDSM clubs here, are there, Sean? So how did you get through a dozen girls in three weeks last time you were here?”

  Cupping my hands around her face, I smirk, and give her the honest answer, “I’m just a jerk, babe.”

  Chapter 11

  Vanessa

  Jerk! I’ll say he’s a bloody jerk. I glare at him as he pays for our meal, and then follow him out into the dusty street which consists of hard packed sand under our feet, rather than tarmac. When he takes my arm, I permit it, but only because I’m worried about getting lost in this foreign city. As we walk back through the souk, still teeming with life, I try to get my head around who the man by my side is. I can perhaps understand him having sex with anonymous women he meets in kink clubs―despite his strange assertion that it isn’t always about sex―but I have difficulty with the fact he seems to jump in and out of bed with anyone who takes his fancy without even bothering to learn their names.

  Surely this man is someone I’d want nothing to do with outside of the work environment? That’s the sensible part of me talking, but my perfidious body is at odds with my brain, betraying me as I acknowledge my state of arousal. All this talk of BDSM has intrigued and excited me. What would it be like to play in a club, with Sean? Even if it was just for one night. If my suspicions are right, it would be a night I wouldn’t forget for a very long time.

  “You’ve got noisy thoughts, babe. Want to share what’s made you go so quiet?” His face creases into a delicious grin as he opens the door to our abode and ushers me inside.

  The last thing I want to do is let him get a whiff of what I’m currently thinking about. “I’m tired, is all. I think I’ll go straight to bed.” It would be far too dangerous to have any more deep discussions tonight. I know my face is flushing, I can feel my skin burning. All this talk of sex has turned me on. And that’s something I definitely can’t afford for him to know.

  Cupping his hand around my chin, he looks into my eyes, and sniggers, as if even without me telling him, he knows perfectly well what the conversation over dinner has done to me. That my reddened cheeks have betrayed me is clear when he says with a smirk, “Okay if that’s the way you want to play it. Sweet, very sweet dreams, darling.” Releasing me, he points me at the stairs and has the nerve to pat my bum as I move toward them. To my shame, I don’t react, I don’t protest, just wanting to get far away from this man’s touch, from his silky voice, as quickly as possible.

  As I go through the normal preparations for bed, including adjusting the air con, so I won’t be sleeping in the Arctic, then slip under the sheets, I know a restless night is on the cards. Our exchange in the restaurant keeps going around my mind, as I try to get straight some of the things that had resonated with me. What was it he said? Once the roles are agreed, the Dom will take control. The sub will be given commands and directions to follow, and the Dom will take the lead. Doms want to make their subs happy.

  Am I remembering that right? Surely I’ve got it the wrong way round? Sean must be muddled, despite his experience. If the Dom is the one giving the instructions, how’s he to know what gives a sub pleasure? I can’t understand it at all. In my fantasy, it had been me giving very precise instructions to a man as to how to please me, something a man has never done before because they hadn’t a clue what to do. Which make me the dominant partner, doesn’t it?

  The sub doesn’t have to worry about whether they should initiate or reciprocate oral sex, for example, whether they should undress themselves or let their partner do it.

  I close my eyes, imagining having a man under my command. Being able to initiate the proceedings and undress him, slowly unbuckling his belt and drawing it through the loops, pushing his trousers and pants to the floor. Telling him to keep still as I take out his cock, hearing his gasp of appreciation as I run my hands over it, his masculine scent making me want to reach forward and sip that drop of pre-cum into my mouth, discovering whether it tastes as good as its promise.

  My hand moves down under the covers, gradually reaching my clit and circling round. I’ll tell him to keep his hands at his sides, and take him into my mouth, using my hands to fondle his heavy sac, then smoothing them around his thick, hard, and oh so long shaft, too much length to take it all inside my mouth. My cheeks would burn as I stretch them wide to accommodate him. My fingers work harder, finding my natural lubrication, and using it to slide my fingers around and over my clit, pressing harder with each rotation. Then I’ll step away, make him watch as I take my clothes off, watching his eyes flare as I remove my bra, letting my breasts hang free, playing with my own nipples until they peak. Then slowly, oh so slowly to tease him, I’ll hook my thumbs into the elastic of my underwear and take my time in sliding them down my legs, revealing my strawberry coloured and neatly trimmed pubes for his view. But I wouldn’t allow him to touch. Not yet.

  As his eyes dilate with approval, I’ll go to the bed, and lie down on my back, drawing my knees up, and directing him to come to me. Then tell him to kneel, to put his mouth on me, to suck my clit, to probe his tongue inside me, while instructing him to touch and pinch my nipples, increasing the pressure each time until I come with a primal scream.

  Only then will I let him inside me. I’ll feel him feed his large cock into me, inch by torturous inch until he’s fully seated, still completely under my instruction. He’ll pull out, and press in, each time hitting that perfect spot. Does that actually exist? Outside romance novels? Oh, well, he’ll have to do his best. Then I’ll control the speed, telling him to thrust hard, to take me, to use me, to hammer inside me with all his might until I’m screaming …

  One hand thrumming my clit, the other stuffed into my mouth as I try to suppress my cries as I come, harder than usual, my body trembling with the force of my release, lungs heaving and the face of my fantasy still hovering in my mind. Sean. I bloody well fantasised about Sean. Again! Fuck!

  Rolling over I bury my head in my pillow in shame, and try to talk sense into myself. It wasn’t Sean that had me so aroused; no, it was the idea of taking control. God, but that felt so bloody good, even if it was all in my imagination. Directing someone to see to my pleasure. Perhaps I’m a Domme? Hmm. Sean’s a switch.

  The possibilities that could come out of that are the last thoughts that flit around my head as the long day and my self-induced state of relaxation catch up with me, and I drift off to sleep.

  “Coffee?” Sean’s voice disturbs me, and I wake with a start. Daylight shines in through the drapes, and the object of my
dream is standing over me with a cup in his hand and a very sexy grin on his face. “Christ, woman. You sleep like the dead. I’ve been knocking for hours, then thought I’d better come in and make sure you hadn’t shuffled off your mortal coil.”

  Reaching for the dose of caffeine, which hopefully will revive me, I scowl, “Shakespeare? At dawn? It’s far too early to quote the bard. Why are you waking me at the crack of dawn anyway?”

  Sean’s grin widens, “Dawn? It’s gone nine.” Then, as he assesses me, he adds, “Back home it’s only five o’clock, so I expect you’re a bit out of kilter. You’re not used to swapping time zones.” Goddammit! He’s laughing at me.

  Nine o’clock? I’ve overslept. Very professional. The realisation I’ve cocked up by not setting the alarm, and his subtle reminder of how much of a novice I am, make me snarky. “Well if you’ll get out of here and leave me alone I’ll get up,” I know I’m scowling, but I don’t feel particularly friendly when I’m not fully awake. My body clock is decidedly out of whack, and I just wish I could roll over and go back to sleep. Shit, he would already be up bright and breezy, wouldn’t he? And what the fuck is he wearing, or not wearing more like? The top button of his jeans is undone, and he’s gone without a shirt, allowing me to see the smooth skin of his chest and an impressive six pack. I supress the urge to lick my lips.

  There’s amusement in his eyes as he remains by the side of my bed, as if he knows the effect he’s having on me. But his words are all business, “You might want to get a move on. Cara’s already been over, and she’s got more information on the er, likely candidates.”

  This helps clear the final vestiges of sleep as well as the beginnings of arousal. Sitting up, pulling the sheet with me even though I wore a perfectly adequate t-shirt to bed, I ask quickly, “What’s she found out?”

  “You’re just going to have to get your lazy arse out of bed and come down to find out.” He smirks. And then leaves.

  Bastard!

  Chapter 12

  Sean

  Laughing to myself, I make my way back downstairs. Nessa is clearly not a morning person, and I’m probably lucky to escape alive, and might well not have done so, had I not taken that coffee up to her. Still smiling, I make my way to the kitchen, refresh my cup, and then rake through the cupboards seeing what I can pull together for breakfast pausing only to pull on the tee I’d brought down with me.

  I just love that woman’s skin, the way it betrays her emotions. And that gorgeous hair, untamed, spread out over the pillows―what would it look like spread out around my cock? That thought has the obvious reaction, so with difficulty, I force myself to get back to the task at hand. Greeting her with a morning hard on would probably only reinforce the impression she had of me last night. And how the hell did I end up explaining Dominance and submission to her? Hoping that’s not going to turn out to be a mistake that turns around and bites me in the arse, I resolve to keep all conversation strictly to business today.

  The kitchen’s stocked with a range of Western and Eastern delights, so I’ve got the bacon cooking, filling the house with its enticing aroma, when there’s a knock on the front door. Automatically going through the security checks, I grin when I see who it is.

  “Déjà vu!” Zoe laughs as she comes through the door. “I remember you making breakfast before, Sean!” Her expression becomes mischievous, “At least you’ve got your clothes on this time!”

  An ill-suppressed snort makes me turn to see Nessa descending the stairs, the look on her face is priceless. Oh, for fuck’s sake! I couldn’t have planned that better if I wanted to worsen her already poor impression of me. But that doesn’t stop me exchanging an amused glance with Zoe who’s blushing, instantly realising how her comment could be misconstrued. I might not care, but she does.

  With a glare toward me, seeing as I’m not going to help, she turns to face Nessa with a welcoming smile, “Morning, Vanessa. The smell of bacon just reminded me of when Sean was my bodyguard. He used to cook breakfast for me…”

  “I’m sure he did.” Nessa doesn’t wait for the emir’s wife to finish her sentence and pushes past to go into the kitchen. “Is there more coffee, Sean?”

  I wink at Zoe, still trying to hold back a laugh. “Yes, and I’m just about to ask the emira whether she’d like a cup.”

  Nessa’s back stiffens as my words let her know the faux pas she’s just committed with her rudeness. To her credit, she tries to recover the situation, “Er, Emira, would you like some coffee?”

  Throwing me another sharp look, Zoe, responds, “No, that’s ok, Vanessa. I just popped in to invite you both to join Kadar, Nijad, Cara, and myself for dinner tonight.”

  “I’m fine with that. What about you, Nessa?” I hope she understands what an honour this is, the emir is a very busy man. It’s akin to being invited to dinner with the queen in our country.

  She returns to the hallway to join us, her freckles glowing on her face. Christ, she really can’t hide a thing. “I, er,”, then she asks a feminine question, “Will it be formal? I haven’t got anything fancy to wear.”

  Zoe laughs softly and rushes to put her at her ease, “No, just the six of us. Very casual, I assure you. We have enough of getting dressed up here.” She smiles as she looks between the two of us, and I have a flashback to the frightened woman I’d once been protecting, awed at how much she’s changed in the six months since she’d first come to Amahad. Pregnancy suits her as well; she’s glowing.

  “Well, that’s settled then. We’ll see you around eight-ish?”

  “Thanks, Zoe.” She might be the wife of the emir, but I still brush her cheek with my lips before allowing her to depart. As she steps out of the door, two bodyguards take up their positions to escort her to the palace.

  “Hmm.” I turn to see Nessa behind me, her hands on her hips, a scowl on her face.

  “You want to ask me something?” I don’t mind leading her on for a laugh, but we’re having dinner with Zoe’s husband tonight, and it wouldn’t look good for Grade A if there was any awkwardness.

  “No, I’ll just…”

  As she starts to back down, I give it to her straight. “I wouldn’t have kicked her out of bed, Nessa, I’ll be honest about that, but it never happened. Ok? I. Did. Not. Sleep. With. Zoe. Are we quite clear now?”

  She lowers her gaze to the floor, then mumbles, “But you wanted to.”

  I sigh. “Of course, I fucking wanted to. But I take what’s offered, Nessa. And if it’s not offered, it’s of no consequence. Now can we have some fucking breakfast and get back to what we’re supposed to be doing? Working!” I start to turn away, and then swing back, wanting to get this straight, “What I do, will do, or have done, in my private life is no concern to you except where it affects the case in hand. You’re my co-worker, Nessa, nothing more, nothing less. If you don’t like me or how I live my life, then sod it. You’re going to have to put up with it. I’m not fucking apologising to you. Ok?” Yes, there it is, the red flush on her face showing her embarrassment. I know I stepped over the line in our discussions last night, revealing more of myself and my lifestyle than perhaps I should have done. But showing jealousy? What does she think we’re in, a fucking relationship?

  In the end, we skip breakfast. Neither of us seems to be hungry. Stinging from our confrontation Nessa barely looks at me as we start to look at the information Cara’s sent. She’s emailed it to both of us, so we have our laptops open; Nessa’s sitting on the couch, I’m at the table. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see her fidgeting, she’s unsettled, unable to concentrate on her work. It doesn’t surprise me in the slightest when she suddenly closes her laptop.

  “Sean, I need some fresh air. I’m going to take a walk.” Her voice isn’t at all steady. Thinking that perhaps it will do us both good to have some distance for a while, I agree and acknowledge her statement with a chin lift, before turning my eyes back down to my screen.

  I didn’t expect her to get up and almost run out of the door. My
mouth falls open at the speed with which she wants to get away from me, and when I spy her handbag lying on the table, my gut clenches in disbelief. Jumping to my feet I open it and check what she’s left behind, it’s just as I thought and proves me right to be worried that she’s gone out unprepared. I hurry after her, but she’s already disappeared by the time I get to the front door. Lifting my eyes to the heavens and back down again in despair, I shake my head, sadly. I’m going to have to prepare a report for Ben, assessing her suitability for working in the field. And right at this particular moment, I don’t have much that’s positive to say.

  Sighing deeply, knowing she’ll probably be safe enough if she sticks to the palace grounds, and that at least one of us should keep working, I return to the table, clicking open the file Cara has sent.

  Christ, she must have worked all night to amass this amount of information. She’s drawn up profiles on the each of the women I’d identified with as much background as she could dig up, including whether there were any extraordinary circumstances over the last year that would suggest a pregnancy and birth. It doesn’t take long before I open the last file, and begin to read through. There’s one hell of a lot more information here, and what I read makes me drop my head into my hands.

  Oh, Mollie! What the fuck has your mother got into? And, by way of association, got me into, too?

  Chapter 13

  Vanessa

  I’m well aware it was very unprofessional of me, running out of the house the way I did, but I just had to get away. Why the hell had I been so rude to the emir’s wife? If word gets back to Ben, I could be sacked! Grade A has a very close working relationship with Amahad, and I’ve just snubbed their first lady. What the hell made me do that?

  Making my way through the compound with no destination in mind, I only vaguely notice I’m passing the modern houses built to accommodate the palace servants and visitors such as ourselves, and come to a gate in the wall, beyond which I can see the sea. Breathing in the ocean air might calm my troubled mind, so I wait until the guard nods me through, and then go out beyond the palace walls.