Identity Crisis (Blood Brothers #4)

by Manda Mellett

  Taking it, I thank him, knowing he’ll be just the messenger and there’ll be no point questioning him. Closing my eyes for a second, I realise in all probability the contents will explain Danielle is not going to be putting in an appearance tonight. Nessa’s looking at me curiously as I slit the envelope open and slide out the single card, idly noting it’s the same stationery that came with the flowers. The message is simple, just six short words. Check your wallet. Enjoy your sub.

  My wallet. Has Danielle been up to her tricks again? Reaching into my back pocket, I’m at least relieved to find it’s still there. Pulling it out, I check the contents. My euros are safe inside, my bank cards and driving licence, and a handful of condoms that weren’t there before. That’s curious enough. Condoms? Well, if they’re from Danielle I certainly won’t be using those. Nothing’s been taken.

  Nessa’s watching me closely, fidgeting as she tries to curb her curiosity. There must be more to it. Surely she hadn’t stolen my wallet just to give me her special brand of condoms? To check it more thoroughly, I empty the contents onto the table and then feel inside the wallet. At first, my fingers trace the lining, and then I find it isn’t quite empty. A tiny USB drive has got wedged at the bottom. My fingers trace it for a second.

  I’ve got it to the right people.

  As Danielle’s words come back to me, I close my eyes in horror knowing exactly what I’ve been given. Looking around I see no one looking at me, no one seeming to take any interest in a Dom and his sub sitting at the table.

  Putting everything back into my wallet, I cast my eyes at Nessa, keeping all expression from my face. She hasn’t noticed I’ve found something’s been added to the contents. Quickly, I run through my options. Hunter’s arriving tomorrow. I can’t do much about it now except accept I’ve been made an unwitting target. There’s no point worrying the woman sitting beside me, and from what I’ve seen, if she knew the danger we could be in, one look at her face would give everything away. The worry would be visible to anyone who cared to notice.

  “What is it?” Now she’s leaning forward, her fingers gesturing, asking to see the paper in my hands.

  I read it again, my gaze focusing on the last three words.

  I’ve been set up. Fuck knows what conversation the girls had had after I’d left them alone, or perhaps she hadn’t even needed to speak. Nessa had made her attraction to me obvious, and now Danielle’s pushing her into my arms. The note and condoms make that clear. Not that I hadn’t already made the decision to get her there. Crafty, crazy bitch. I can help but bark a laugh.

  “What is it?” Nessa repeats, leaning over the table, her inquisitiveness making her forget the precarious nature of her costume, and that it’s almost possible for me to see the half-moon of the tops of her areolae. So that’s their colour! I can’t wait to see more. I just say, “She’s not coming.”

  Her mouth opens in feigned disappointment; she can’t hide her pleasure that our evening won’t be interrupted. I suppress a scowl, the whole reason for us being here has decided not to turn up, and my colleague should be disappointed. Perhaps I need to shoulder some of the blame. Once again, she’s got me onto topics that should have been avoided like the plague if we’re going to continue to be professional toward each other. And right now, keeping our relationship to work matters is the last thing on my mind.

  It’s time for us to leave, initiating her into BDSM in this environment would be like throwing her into the deep end of a pool without armbands. She hasn’t understood anything I’ve been telling her. A smile slowly spreads across my face as the answer comes to me. A demonstration is worth more than any words. Finishing my hardly touched drink in one long swallow, I stand and hold out my hand across the table. “Let’s go back to the hotel, Nessa.” The depth of my voice makes it only just this side of a command and my slight breathlessness carries a promise. I wait, arm outstretched, as I wonder what she will do.

  Chapter 19

  Vanessa

  I don’t know what I expected when we came to the club tonight, but I didn’t anticipate anything like what I’d walked into. Hell, of course I know BDSM is about whips, collars, and spankings but somehow, I thought it would be more polite, not people walking around semi-naked, or even completely bare. And some having full-on sex in plain sight. It’s overwhelming, and I don’t know which way to look.

  Having pestered Sean to bring me, having spent time choosing the right outfit to wear, and having got up the guts to enter the door behind him, now I don’t know what to do. To be honest, I’ve seen so much more than I ever imagined, not that I had known what to envision. Men and women, all shapes and sizes doing heaven knows what; and the sounds! Christ, I can’t stop myself flinching as I hear a whip fall. Instead of being turned on, I find I’m getting less and less aroused and unable to picture myself in the role I thought I’d relish. Is it possible to be dominant but not want to whip or spank someone, or want to lead them around on a leash? Surely there must be some other way of taking the Domme role? Maybe I’m just in the wrong club.

  While Sean’s been talking to me, something odd has happened; he seems to have become a different person. The sights and sounds of the dungeon do nothing to move me, but my companion’s deep voice, full of authority, seems to have a link straight down to my girly parts. It’s been difficult to keep my mind on the reason why we’re here, and impossible to be disappointed when at last Sean receives a note and it becomes clear we’ll be conducting no business here tonight. Which means I won’t have to see her again. Or worse, see him play with her. Yes, that had been my deepest fear.

  Then, when he stretches his hand across the table to me, somehow with a gesture not expected from a work colleague. His eyes are slightly dilated and his breathing has quickened, the signs letting me know I’m not misreading the situation. He’s not just suggesting we go back to the hotel; he’s issuing me an invitation into his bed.

  I hesitate before giving into the temptation, my womb clenching, my palms feeling sweaty. I should turn him down. But this is what I’ve been dreaming of since the first day he joined Grade A, and I was introduced to him. Ok, he might be the most fantastic experience I’ve ever had in bed, and let’s face it, it wouldn’t be hard to beat my previous partners, but knowing his track record, it will only be for a very limited time. And how will I be able to work with him afterwards? No, this would feature among one of the biggest mistakes in my life if I go through with it. But it’s Sean. How can I turn him down?

  Swallowing rapidly, I try to get my mouth to work, to make a comment letting him know I’m ready to leave the club, but will not be joining him in his room. To dismiss him succinctly so he doesn’t offer again. I can’t jeopardise my career for a one night stand.

  But as I find my voice to put him in his place, the words that come out are at odds with my decision, and as I tell him in an embarrassing squeak, “Okay,” my hand reaches out across the table to take his. It’s so much bigger than mine, his fingers encase my palm with room to spare. Glancing down to where we’re joined I focus on the size of his thumb, if what I’ve read is true he’s not going to disappoint me tonight. Fuck! What the hell am I thinking?

  I try to get back on track, “Danielle?”

  Pulling me from my seat, he simply shrugs and says dismissively, “She’s not here tonight.” The stress he gives to the words makes it clear he means neither in the physical or mental sense. She’s not who he’s thinking of right at this moment. He means his focus is all on me. Me! I don’t know whether I should be honoured or terrified.

  Hand in hand we leave the club. He summons a taxi; it pulls up immediately. As if he doesn’t want to give me a chance to have second thoughts, he refrains from talking during the short journey back to where we’re staying, but doesn’t break the physical contact. I’m glad he’s not asking me for conversation, with thoughts whirling through my mind as fast as they are, who knows what the fuck would come out if I had to speak? Something highly embarrassing, I’m sure. At least
the silence has given me time to think, and by the time we reach our destination, I have it all clear in my head. I know what I want from him. I know exactly how I’m going to play this.

  He hovers between the doors to our rooms, giving me a choice. Swallowing rapidly, knowing I’ve got to start taking control, I find my key card and once the door’s open, step toward the room I’d taken as mine. Striding inside, I cross over to the chair and unceremoniously dump my bag and coat there then turn, seeing he’s followed me into the room and has shut the door exactly as I had expected. Without hesitation or giving him time to speak, I take charge. As a Domme should.

  “Strip!” I snap out my one word instruction whilst placing a hand on my hip as I wait for him to obey, stamping down the rogue question, what the hell would I do if he didn’t?

  “I suspected that might be the way you want to play it.” His voice is soft, slightly amused, but not offended.

  Slowly, decadently, he puts both hands over his head, grasping his t-shirt at the neck, and pulling it up and off, exposing his lean, muscular chest as he does so. Sean’s not got the muscles of a body builder, but his well-toned pecs still show his strength. His jeans hang low on his hips, and there’s a delicious V and trickle of darker blond hair that clearly points the way downwards to where I so want to explore. In fact, I have an overwhelming desire to drop to my feet in front of him, to pull out his cock and taste him. Rapidly, I straighten my body. What the heck? I’ve never performed oral sex before, so why the hell would I want to now? Thinking of that, I’ve never received it before, either. Perhaps Sean could… Fuck, Van. Putting his mouth there? It’s dirty! Yuck. Sure, I’ve acted out both ways round in my fantasies, but in real life? Just no.

  He throws a look of challenge at me as his hand rests on the top button of his jeans. I jerk my head, indicating he should continue. With his eyes fixed on mine, he flicks the first button through the hole, and then the next. There are four in all, and my breathing shallows with each one he opens. Finally, his jeans are undone, and I can hardly catch any breath at all. He’s commando, he’s fully erect, and the size of his thumbs hadn’t lied. Jesus! What am I expected to do with that?

  My tongue skims around my mouth, all but getting stuck on my very dry teeth as I try to get sufficient moisture to speak. Knowing I’d be able to manage little more than a squeak, I resort gesturing, letting him know he should remove the rest.

  Falling to one knee with a grace unexpected from a man, he removes one shoe and sock, and then the other. Then, slightly more awkwardly, favouring his recovering leg, he stands and slides off his jeans. I never understood watching a man undress could be so sexy before and, embarrassed, I feel a rush of arousal making the boy shorts I’m wearing decidedly damp.

  I’ve not many people to compare him to, but he tops everything in my limited experience. Even the still angry looking scars on his legs don’t detract from his masculine beauty. Sean wouldn’t look out of place as a nude model. I can’t believe such a specimen of manhood is standing in my hotel room. Mine. I can feel my traitorous skin flushing red just looking at him. He makes the men I’ve been with before seem like boys. As I moisten my lips in anticipation, worry suddenly chills me. What’s he going to think of my very average body?

  Perhaps I don’t need to get naked? But what next? I’ve got a perfect specimen of a man standing unclothed in front of me. What the bloody hell do I do with him now? The slight smirk on his face tells me I better make up my mind fast or I suspect he’ll try to swap roles. No bloody chance, mate! But I take a moment to drink him in. His cock is springing up, pre-cum glistening on the tip showing he’s ready for some action and, because I’m the only female in the room, it must be me that’s making him ready to play. The thought makes me feel decidedly feminine. And his state of readiness shows I’ve probably only got seconds before he takes over the show.

  The notion helps me find my voice. “Lie on the bed,” I instruct, trying, unsuccessfully, to control the quiver as I speak. I must find my Domme voice. But the tone I’ve used seems to be enough as, without a pause, he complies, lying down, full length stretched out, his hands linked behind his head, his legs immodestly spread open allowing me to see his heavy sac lying beneath that enormous thick, long, prick. I try to keep my cool as I decide where to start my feast, unable to believe this man is laid out before me, mine to do with whatever I want. He’s given his control completely to me. Then I remember what he’d told me in the club, the sub gives over their control, but the Domme receives their satisfaction by pleasuring their playmate. It suddenly occurs to me what an immense responsibility that is.

  How should I pleasure him? And receive my own gratification? Hesitantly, I take a step toward him. He’s looking at me curiously, expectation in his eyes. Aiming to please, I avoid the obvious appendage, not too sure what to do with that in any event, and crawl up the bed, hovering over him. Leaning down, I take a nipple into my mouth, circle it with my tongue, and suck it gently. I watch him carefully and notice his look of challenge seconds before he starts removing his hands from behind his neck.

  “Keep your hands there, don’t move.” I can’t keep my voice level, but he relaxes his arms again, doing as I asked, and there’s a flicker of excitement inside me as I recognise this man truly is under my control.

  Giving him as stern a stare as possible, I move to his other nipple, caressing it as I had the first. He pushes up into my mouth, but I don’t know what to do. Does he want me to bite him? Won’t that hurt? Uncertain, I cease my caress of his chest and instead inch up his body again, and for the first time, I brush my lips over his mouth. Oh, the times I’ve dreamed of kissing Sean, of our tongues dancing together. I want to taste him, but his lips are closed tight. What do I do? I try sliding my tongue against the seam of his mouth, pressing, seeking entrance until at last, he opens for me. Now I push inside his mouth and he responds, oh so gently. It’s an enjoyable, but not particularly earth-shattering kiss. He’s following where I’m taking him, but I don’t know how to lead.

  Feeling a moment’s frustration, I pull myself up so I’m straddling his body and run my hands over his chest, daring to tweak his nipples gently. His eyes are twinkling, but… with amusement, arousal? I can’t tell; I can’t read him. Hoping it’s the latter, I reach down behind me, finding his cock with my hand. Still watching his face, I close my fingers around as much of his length as I can and pulse my fist up and down. His head goes back, and he murmurs a sound which I can’t translate, but I’m hoping it’s one of pleasure. I pump once again and then release him.

  I’m wet, and he’s hard. Time to move it along and get to the main event, but he’s unashamedly naked and I’m still wearing clothes. Shit, now I’ve got to get undressed with him staring at me. I haven’t thought this through. What if he finds my breasts ugly? I’m not model thin, the corset is holding in a bit of excess luggage. Even though my body is more toned nowadays, due to the gruelling exercise and fitness regime I’ve been following, I just can’t seem to get completely rid of my tummy bulge. What if he finds that disgusting? Gazing at his body, I see there’s not an inch of fat on him. God, I hope I won't be a disappointment. What if his cock deflates at the sight of me? Talk about embarrassing. But even more disconcerting is the fact I’m playing the Domme, and we’re not going to get much further unless I remove at least some of my clothes. Could I get away with just removing my knickers?

  Oh, for goodness sake, Nessa. Stop overthinking it. There’s nothing else for it! In for a penny, in for a pound. Bowing my head, not wanting to see him watching me, I move my fingers to my corset and gradually start to unlace it. Freed from their confines my C cup breasts spill out, flopping down as I remove their support. Looking down I watch them bounce, wishing they were perky, not heavy and full. I continue undoing the laces until soon my not-so-flat stomach comes plainly into view. I hear an indrawn breath, and bravely raise my head, but instead of disappointment, his eyes are dilated in appreciation, and there’s a small smile on his lips. M
uscles twitch in his arms, showing he’s having difficulty remaining still, tethered only by my instruction and will. Confidence returns to me.

  Briefly sliding off the bed, I bend over and pull off my boots, then undo the suspenders attached to my corset and push down my stockings. I suppose I could have made more of a striptease about it, but I just want to get this part done. At last, I wriggle out of my boy shorts. Not wanting to give him a chance to stare at my unshaven nether-parts I jump quickly back onto the bed, my knees falling either side of his thighs, shuffling a little awkwardly until I’ve positioned myself just right.

  “Condom.”

  I feel my face burn as he has to remind me. Christ, I hope he didn’t think I’d forgotten on purpose. Especially after he’d been tricked by Danielle.

  “In my jeans. Not my wallet.” I’m not sure why he’s telling me not to use the ones he’d dropped out onto the table in the club, but it doesn’t make much odds. Awkwardly clambering off the bed, I fumble in his discarded clothing until I find the item I need. Then, returning to him, I hesitantly slide it on him, fumbling, as I’ve never put one on a man before. He half lifts his head, then lowers it once he’s checked that I’ve seated it right.

  No more delay. Time to find out what Sean can offer me. Lifting my body a little, I take him in my hand again, and place the tip of his cock at my entrance. He’s big, bigger even than I expected, and I have difficulty working the head inside. To my mortification, I realise I’m not as wet as I’d thought I was, and, while not impossible, this probably isn’t going to be that comfortable for either of us.

  I need him to stimulate me. But I didn’t ask him. And now I’m not sure I can. I thought I could direct this, I thought I could ask for what I wanted. Unbidden a tear comes to my eye as I feel like a person at a banquet who’s not allowed to sample the delicacies on offer. I’m feeling like a bloody fool.