Identity Crisis (Blood Brothers #4)

by Manda Mellett

  He’s choosing this time to compare me to his ex? Then I freeze, realising just what he’s suggesting I do. “You want me to have an abortion?”

  His eyes stare into mine, and what I see there, chills me, “I can’t do this with you right now, Vanessa. If you keep the baby, you’re on your own.”

  “I’m not having an abortion, Simon. And that’s final.”

  “Well, I tell you something else that’s final. I’m out of here. And don’t expect me to cough up child support!”

  And then he’d gone. And I missed him or missed the man I’d thought he was. When he came back to me, I was over the moon.

  “Look, I’ve had some time to think about this. The timing’s wrong, but we said we’d have children one day.”

  My mouth drops open, “Simon, after everything you said?”

  He has the grace to look sheepish, “Well, yeah, but it was the shock. Now I’ve had time to think I’ve come around to the idea.” He grins, “Let’s do this, Vanessa!”

  “Do you mean it?” Hope starts building inside me.

  “Yes, I mean it! Now come here and give me a hug. I’m going to make sure you’re properly looked after.”

  Yeah, he’d looked after me well.

  I put my hand to my mouth, stifling a sob. I’ve cried enough tears, felt too many pangs of conscience. And now, because of my, over the top, reaction, I’ve probably offended Sean by bawling my eyes out into his shirt. That bastard doesn’t deserve any more of my time wasted thinking of him and what he did to me. Somehow, getting it out in the open, Sean listening without censure, has been cleansing. And, as I remember my colleague’s offer and can picture in my head his strong legs delivering one of his famed karate kicks just where it would hurt Simon the most, I manage a small grin.

  I could give him his address. No, Van, that’s wicked. Still, in some ways, it’s a nice thought, that Sean cared enough to volunteer.

  Wine. I need wine. Shaking my head as though I could physically dispel the lingering memories, I make the way to my small kitchen and open the fridge. There’s a bottle open from before I went away. Lifting it out I think of everything that’s happened in the past few days, and how simple it all had seemed before I left for Amahad. Getting up, going to work, coming home again. Then everything got turned on its head. I was given the job I’d been hankering after and spent a night with the man I’d been lusting for. Can I start putting everything else behind me now? Emerge as a new confident woman?

  Pouring a glass of the leftover wine, I sniff at it suspiciously. It smells okay, so emboldened, I take a sip. Tastes fine too. No point opening another bottle until I have to, so I might as well finish this one first. A wine connoisseur might object to it having been standing for a few days, but it doesn’t bother me.

  Taking my drink through to my equally small lounge, I sit back on the couch. Well, if I’d been harbouring any desire to have another night with Sean I’ve made it pretty clear where I stand now. He knows my aversion to babies is real. But oh, the way he’d taken charge that night, the things he’d made me feel. At least he’d dispelled any notion I’d had of being frigid. I just needed the right man to take control in the bedroom. I need a Dom.

  And where was I to find one? Lifting my glass I take a fortifying sip as I find I might just have the answer for that!

  Leaning over the couch I take my laptop out of my bag and plonk it on my lap. Not having used it for a while, it meanders through its boot up programs. Eventually I’m able to get into my email, then have to wait until it downloads three days’ worth of spam and rubbish. I click on new email, and compose the message carefully, then without allowing myself second thoughts, click send.

  Not expecting an answer this evening, I finish my wine and return to the kitchen for a refill. The ping alerting me to new mail doesn’t make me hurry back; it’s probably just more junk that I’ll have to delete.

  But when I’m back in my seat I glance at my laptop screen. Bloody hell! Jon’s responded, and with the documents I’d asked for. I read his short note; both attachments have to be completed, signed and returned before my request can be agreed. Picking up my wine I take another long sip to bolster my nerves and then replace it on the coffee table. Unable to curb my curiosity, I open up the files and start to read. My God! I didn’t realise there was so much to it. In my naivety, I assumed applying for membership at Club Tiacapan would be as simple as joining a local gym.

  As my eyes go down the pages of the second document I’d received, I feel them start to bulge from their sockets. Jesus! Some of the things on the paper entitled ‘Limits List’ I’ve never even heard of, let alone know if I want to try. Fisting? Anal and/or Vaginal? I’m going to have to start googling fast. Hmm. I glance down at the laptop; perhaps it’s best not to use the work computer for this!

  Just as I’m wondering whether it’s worth going upstairs to switch on an ancient PC that’s set up in my spare bedroom, there’s a ring at my doorbell. Glancing at the screen in front of me I see it’s gone ten o’clock. Who would be coming around at this hour? Then I glance down at myself. I’m hardly dressed for company, wearing my comfort clothes of a tee and shorts, but at least I’m respectable.

  Getting up I go to my bag. Damn! The first flipping time I remember to get out my gun, it’s not there. Of course, it isn’t, before we left France we’d had to turn in all our weaponry to the Parisian based Grade A operative who’d met us there for that very purpose. Not even trained bodyguards are permitted to carry arms in the UK unless they’re members of the SAS or the armed police force.

  So, taking what precautions I’m able to, I look out of the peephole in the door before removing the chain and opening it. Before doing so, I stand for a second with my back to the door, my mouth dropping open. What the hell is he doing here?

  If it’s about work I can’t send him away, so with shaking hands I turn the latch and let him inside.

  The door opens directly into my lounge. As I stand back in politeness to let him come in, my small house immediately seems to shrink even more. It’s not just that he’s tall, it’s his presence. Everything about him seems to suggest he’s too much for me. He’s walked in like a Dom, not like my colleague and partner.

  As I close the door behind him, Sean turns and places his hands on my arms and squeezes slightly. His eyes examine mine. A flush comes to my cheeks as I think about the activity he’s interrupted. Of course, he doesn’t miss it.

  “Are you okay, Nessa?” His brow furrows with concern, “Are you still upset about what happened earlier?”

  At his reminder, my face blazes redder. I start to speak, but he puts a finger to my lips, “You’ve nothing to apologise for, Nessa. You couldn’t have predicted how you’d react, and I shouldn’t have pushed you. Not like that. I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry.”

  I move his finger away, and he lets me answer him, “It’s not your fault, Sean. I’m just so sorry.”

  “You told me you didn’t do babies; I didn’t understand that you meant it.”

  “I should have explained before. You weren’t to know. Hell, I didn’t know how bad I’d become.” I give a short laugh, “Guess I do now, though.”

  He waves toward the sofa. “Can I sit down?”

  Shrugging, I invite him to the seat with a gesture, and then go and sit at the opposite end. Ruefully I eye my glass of wine, wanting another sip, but knowing if I pick up my drink I’ll have to offer him one too. And I’m not sure I want him in my house for that long.

  “You working?” He indicates the laptop on the table. Another damn blush and I can’t meet his eyes. Then I have a horrible thought.

  “Why are you here, Sean?” Jon Tharpe couldn’t have told him I’d asked for the membership papers for the club, could he?

  Settling back into the seat he links his hands behind his head, “I wanted to check you were alright.”

  Unable to copy his relaxed posture, I sit forward, my arms resting on my thighs and my hands clasping and unclasping between
my knees, “I’m fine, really. You can see that for yourself. I was going to go up to bed in a moment.” I hope the last will get rid of him.

  But the bastard’s smirking. He inches nearer, closing the gap between us and with his hand under my chin, turns me to face him. Another of his probing looks. “Are you trying to get rid of me, Nessa?” He gently moves my head one way then the other, carefully examining my expression, “Hmm, what am I interrupting? What have you been up to?” Turning me to face him again, he adds, “What aren’t you telling me?”

  There’s no point in hiding it; he’ll know soon enough. The next time he turns up at the club, I’ll be there. Taking a deep breath, I admit, “I’m just looking at the forms for Club Tiacapan. I’m applying for membership.”

  His eyes open wide, then he laughs out loud, the sound coming straight from his belly, “I wondered what was getting you all hot and bothered.”

  “I’m not…”

  The chuckling stops, but a wide grin covers his face, “You’re blushing,” he touches my face, then he moves his fingers down to my neck, “And I can feel your pulse racing. And I bet if I touched your pussy you’d be soaking wet.”

  I don’t think it’s possible for my face to burn any more than it already is, but that’s what it feels like. I go to deny that I’m in any way turned on, and then fear he’ll know I’m not telling the truth. Deciding it’s best to address it face on, I open up my laptop. “I’ve been going through this.” I point to the limits list on the screen, trying to be as matter of fact as I can.

  He pulls the laptop closer so he can view it too. “You haven’t got very far,” he observes. He’s peering at what I have filled in.

  Pulling my shoulders up to my ears and then letting them drop again I admit, “I don’t know what half of these things are.”

  “That’s interesting,” he points to an item near the top of the first page, “Anal isn’t a hard limit. Something you want to try, sweetheart?”

  I smack his hand away, “None of your business.”

  “Oh babe, it most definitely is. I’ll have to see your limits list if I’m going to be your Dom.”

  My eyes widen, and I turn to him, “Sean, you’ve been there, done that. You’ll want to move on.”

  Something flares in his eyes, “Don’t brush me off like that, Nessa. I just haven’t found someone I wanted to play with more than once before.” He breaks off, and then says more softly, “Until now.”

  I look at him in surprise, is he saying what I think he is? “Me?” My voice comes out so high pitched I try to lower it, “You want to play with me?”

  He indicates the laptop again, “That right there. That shows there’s endless possibilities, things for us to try, things for me to teach you.” His hand cups my chin again, “We certainly wouldn’t be able to get through all that in one night.”

  I stand up, walk to the window even though the curtains are drawn, and I can’t see outside. “Sean, you don’t do relationships, and I’m not looking for one. And there’s Mollie to consider. I don’t do babies.”

  He’s come to stand behind me without me being aware that he’d moved. Warm hands reach around me and take hold of mine. “We could keep it to the club. You could be my mine exclusively, my sub.”

  But how long would it take before he got bored of me? And would I be happy to be with him only for sex? A shiver runs through me as I understand that could be an answer. I get mind-blowing sex without the trappings of a man and a baby. I’d get Sean.

  “Exclusive? You’d just be playing with me?” If I could even consider agreeing to this, I wouldn’t want him having sex with all and sundry while we were together.

  His hands run up and down my arms making me tremble, “Exclusive,” he whispers in my ear, his warm breath sending tingles down my spine, “For as long as we both want.”

  It has to be to do with the forms I was completing before he arrived, but suddenly that option sounds very attractive. With him, in Club Tiacapan I could act out all my dreams and desires, and even those I don’t know I have yet. What is fisting anyway?

  “Okay.” My voice isn’t quite steady as he turns me to face him. With no warning his lips come down on mine, his tongue teasing, taunting until I open for him. This is no tender approach, this is a demonstration of ownership and oh, how I want to be owned by him. I respond in kind, our tongues twist together, fighting for dominance. Neither of us has closed our eyes. Though his are half-lidded, his smouldering gaze still manages to burn into mine. We mate with our mouths until finally, we have to part, each panting to get air into our starving lungs.

  Stepping back from me, he brushes one hand over his hair, his mouth tight, his muscles taut as I watch him fighting to bring himself under control. Slightly bemused my hands flutter, I thought he’d be taking me straight to bed or ripping my clothes off.

  He rolls his head back on his shoulders, then looks down at me with a smile, “Hell, Nessa, you steal my breath away.”

  I have to laugh; he has the same effect on me.

  Reaching out his hand, he takes hold of mine and gently brushes his fingertips over my knuckles, “If you’re going to play in the club, you need to get that limit list completed. We’ll go through it together. Come.” His fingers curl round, and with a little tug, he gets me moving back to the sofa. This time he allows no distance between us.

  Picking up my laptop he takes charge. “Right,” he points to the first item I haven’t completed, “How do you feel about this?”

  Surprisingly, his casual approach helps keep my embarrassment away as we work through some of my deepest desires. He clicks the boxes as I tell him what I do or don’t want to do, or what I might like to try. And then we come to the item I’d got stuck on earlier.

  “I don’t know what that is.”

  “Fisting? Well…”

  As he goes on to explain, I take a cushion and use it to cover my face then peer out at him over the top, “Is that even possible? Especially… there?”

  Giving a snort of laughter, he assures me it is, but adds, “Not that I’ve done it myself.” He shows me his hands, like everything about him, they are on the large side, “Think I might be a bit over equipped for that.”

  Moving on and completing the list, I’m pleased to find that we’re fairly compatible. There's not a lot of things that I get the sense he’d like me to try that I have major objections to, and, being new to all this and fairly conservative, nothing I’d like to try that he dismisses. As we go through and check things off, he takes the time to explain what each activity entails, with the dual results I come to appreciate just how experienced he is and how lucky I am to have landed myself a Master Dom and just how much this conversation is turning me on!

  At last, we’ve finished, and I’ve added my electronic signature to the documents and have returned them to Jon. Sean explains when I first visit the club I’ll be asked to sign hard copies, but at least this way they’ll already have them on file. As an employee of Grade A I have regular health check-ups, and so won’t need to get tested again to prove I’m clean.

  “There’s one more thing we should cover while we’re here.”

  I thought we’d done everything. “What?”

  His fingers reach out for my laptop. “Can I borrow that for a sec?”

  “Sure.” I let him take over, watching as he calls up Dropbox and logs into his account. A moment later he’s downloaded another document. Peering over his shoulder I see it’s a blank contract. A Dom/sub contract. Realising he means to formulate our verbal agreement sends a tremor of anticipation through me. I’m actually going to do this. I’m going to agree to give my body to this man.

  He types in our names. “I’ll put it for an initial month, after that we’ll see how we get on, okay?” As he speaks he’s looking intently at the screen, “I’ll refer to the limits list we’ve just completed.” I notice his lips are pursed, and there’s no sign of levity in his expression. “I don’t normally bother with contracts, but if we’re g
oing to be playing together and as this is all new to you, you need to understand what you’re getting into.” I notice he’s making some alterations, taking out clauses and adding others in. “Right, take a look at this. We can discuss anything you don’t understand.”

  Now the laptop’s facing toward me, and I start to read. He’s made it an uncomplicated as possible. All our play will be restricted to the club, and only outside with our mutual agreement. Our arrangement is to be exclusive. He will look out for my safety and abide by my safeword. The next section is about communication, setting out that I have a responsibility to tell him my thoughts and feelings at any time during play, to be honest, and open and not to be hesitant or embarrassed. Although I’m not certain how it will pan out in practice, for now, I don’t see anything to object to.

  Oh, hang on a minute. What’s this? I point to the offending clause on the screen, “Sean?”

  I expected him to show some sign of amusement, but as his mouth turns down, it’s clear that for him this is serious. “The punishment clause. Yes, I thought you might question that.” He rubs his hands over his forehead as he starts to explain, “How can I put this? The Dom has a responsibility to keep the sub safe. At any time, if the sub puts herself at risk, for example, she doesn’t use her safeword when she should; then a punishment will follow. The point of any reprimand is to enforce the agreement between us and ensure the behaviour is not repeated.”

  I’m not sure I like that. “I don’t understand. What sort of punishment?”

  He closes his eyes, and then opens them again, “It can take many forms depending on the nature of the transgression. Sometimes it’s just the withholding of affection. For something more serious it might be a spanking or flogging.”