“Maybe I deserved what happened to me, because I let you do things to me I’d never let any man do. And Mr. Marshall saw that in me. Saw the cuff marks and . . . .” Her voice broke. She put her face in her hands and sobbed.
“I’m sorry I said that. I was only trying to make you feel better, not worse. Don’t you dare think of yourself like that!”
She lifted her head and gazed at him. The misery in her eyes was killing him. He was used to dealing with problems in a rational, cool, calm and collected way. She thought of him as a confident if not cocky guy. And now, for the first time he was clueless. He couldn’t use his brain on this one; he had to trust his heart.
“Please, listen to me Jennifer. I know I can be controlling and a little intimidating at times, but I’d never hurt you or force myself on you like that. You’ve done nothing wrong. That jerk had no right to touch you. As for what you and I do together, that’s between us. Never be afraid to express your sexuality with me. You’ve nothing to be ashamed of. You can share anything and everything with me and I would never judge you. You make me happy and I hope I make you happy. You belong to me . . .”
“I belong to you? See that is what you think.”
“After what I just said, that’s all you heard? You didn’t let me finish.”
“Sorry.” Her face softened.
Once again, he saw the lovely girl who’d stolen his heart. “I was going to say, I belong to you as well.” He took her hand and brought it to his lips, closed his eyes and planted kisses on the top, turned it over and kissed the palms. He lightly kissed the red marks on her wrists. “I should’ve known better than to put metal cuffs on you. Forgive me?”
She smiled gingerly. “You just saved me from being raped or worse. I’m the one who owes you an apology. I guess I just flipped out and took it out on you. Thank you for coming to my rescue, for being my hero.”
He kissed her respectfully.
She considered him her hero. He liked the thought. If only she knew what he really was, would she still feel that way? Was it possible to be the bad guy and the hero? He didn’t think so, but maybe she did. Although he could never hope for absolution for the things he’d done; for what he was, perhaps he could find some sort of redemption in this woman’s arms.
Chapter 22
Should he tell her now about the new apartment before they pulled into the complex’s parking lot? He wasn’t sure. Would she freak out and think he was turning her into a “kept” woman? She was extremely vulnerable right now. But this was a necessity. He needed to protect her. And she knew full well the place she lived in was not safe. She’d said it herself.
He glanced over at her. She seemed a little more at peace. Her arm was draped across the top of the Mustang’s door. She was looking out at the ocean. The breeze caught her hair and it danced on the air. He waited for her to speak first, driving at a snail’s pace, which was not like him.
She turned and looked at the speedometer. “Why are you driving so slow, Dorian? I’m not made of glass, you know.”
He shrugged. “I thought you’d enjoy seeing the ocean instead of flying by it.”
“So, what’s this big surprise? Wait. Let me guess. You’re going to hang me upside down by the ceiling and have your way with me.”
He whipped his head around to see the expression on her face. Was she angry with him again?
She was smiling, a very impish little smile at that. She could be so frustratingly confusing at times.
“Hmm. Such a novel idea, Ms. Reese. I’ve not thought of that one. This surprise has nothing to do with sex. I just hope you’ll accept it for what it is and not misjudge my intentions.”
They pulled into slot number 8 of an immense, peach colored high rise. In slot 7 was his silver-metallic colored Mercedes. His bike was parked on the concrete walk-way, directly in front of them.
The grounds were well kept. Each apartment boasted simple French doors, accompanied by a small, wrought iron balcony. Security lamps shone at various points all around the building, keeping it well lit. Moving cameras hung high on poles. Dorian glanced at them. They covered every square inch of the exterior, right to the sidewalk. Ian had done well in choosing this place.
He’d also made sure the apartment he chose was in the middle of the building where there were few windows for Dorian to worry about. She may be clueless at times, but eventually she was bound to figure out he had no reflection in glass.
“Isn’t that your motorcycle Dorian? Is this where Ian lives?”
“Yes, it’s my bike. No, Ian doesn’t live here. He lives in my guesthouse, remember?”
“Then who lives here?” She appeared apprehensive.
Who could blame her after what she’d just been through? He contemplated how he’d tell her. He took her face in his hands and gazed into her beautiful green eyes. “You do.”
“You got me an apartment? That’s a huge surprise alright! I can’t accept it Dorian. It’s too much.”
“Look Jennifer, you said it yourself. That hovel you live in now isn’t safe. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you which I could’ve prevented.”
“I never asked you for anything and certainly didn’t expect this.” She looked up at the building and down at her hands. She didn’t look at him.
“No, you never have. And that’s why you deserve it. You’ve taken me with all my eccentricities and given me something more precious than an apartment or a car or any other material thing. You’ve given me your heart and your trust.”
“I don’t know Dorian. This isn’t like a bouquet of flowers or a box of chocolates.”
“Don’t be so bold as to argue with me any further. Come and see your new home. That’s an order.” His brow furrowed, his voice sounded demanding, and yet, he couldn’t help smiling ever so slightly.
They took the elevator up to the seventh floor.
Once there, he leaned against the doorway, arms folded, watching the expression on her face as she walked into apartment number 7.
She took everything in. As she moved through the apartment, he heard her exclaim “Oh my God!” several times.
Ian had chosen an elegant, yet understated one-bedroom apartment. The walls were painted in a welcoming, earthy, robin’s egg blue tone. He’d even put up the pictures Dorian had told him to purchase. And there, on the far wall were French doors leading out to the balcony. The panes of glass were covered with heavy peach and gold damask curtains.
The gourmet kitchen had granite countertops and Ikea cabinetry. The master bedroom was large with an adjoining bathroom, complete with a built in vanity and a muted glass shower enclosure with three shower heads. He knew she loved his.
After running from room to room she came back to the living room where he still leaned against the doorframe. He was enjoying this so much.
“Well?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “Do you approve?”
“I don’t know what to say Dorian.”
She walked over to one of the paintings on the wall, The Adoration. She ran her fingers along the surface. He knew she loved it and she’d remember it had been in the dungeon as well.
She looked at him sideways, “Hmm. Did you put this up because you know I love it or to remind me of something?”
“Both.” He sauntered over to her and kissed her lightly. Taking her hand he led her toward the bedroom.
He felt her pull away, as if she didn’t want to go in there with him.
“Jennifer. Please. I do have some semblance of class you know. It would be completely inappropriate for me to have sex with you tonight. Not after what you’ve just been through.”
She nodded. “Thank you for . . . I don’t even know what to thank you for. There’s so much. I don’t know if I can accept this.”
“You will accept it Jennifer. Don’t bother disagreeing with me. You know I always get what I want.” His eyes were dead serious.
“Well, since you’ve ordered me to take it; I have no choice, do I?”
> “No, you don’t.”
There on one of the nightstands was a beautifully decorated gift bag. She went over to it immediately.
He’d forgotten about that. Shit, what would she think of it? He’d not anticipated what had gone on tonight. She might consider the gift in poor taste.
“Maybe you shouldn’t open that right now,” he said hastily.
“Seriously? You’re talking to a girl who used to open a tiny corner of wrapping paper on Christmas gifts well before Christmas to see what they were and then tape them back up.”
He stood by her side as she took out the silver, shimmery holographic tissue wrap.
“How sweet. A box of Godiva chocolates.” She stood on tippy toes and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Oh what’s this? There’s more?”
She took out a blocky looking box and shook it. “By the way, I also shake gifts and try to guess what’s in them. It’s a habit.”
“Indeed. I’ll have to remember not to buy you anything breakable.”
He said no more; waiting to see what her reaction would be to this gift, which he’d thought was fun at the time.
She opened the box and pulled out two pairs of fleece covered hand-cuffs, one dark blue, the other a pastel pink. She held them up, her face maddeningly unreadable.
“So, are these the new equivalent of his and her bath towels?” She laughed.
“I got them before tonight, Jennifer. I imagined you might think them in poor taste now.”
She rubbed the plush pink fleece against her arm. “These are nice and soft.”
“You like them?” He breathed a sigh of relief. Jennifer Reese was turning out to be one hell of a complex girl.
“Yes. I like the blue ones best though,” she said with a devilish smile that was perhaps more wicked than his.
“Oh? And why is that?” He looked down into her beautiful face, struggling with the desire he felt for her at the moment.
“Because I get to put them on you.”
“I hope you understand the implications of this gift. I don’t think of you as my submissive or plaything or anything of the sort. We can take turns playing the dominant or submissive, although I’m much better at being dominant.”
“No kidding. I can’t imagine you’ve ever been submissive to anything or anybody in your entire life.”
“True. I’ve never been submissive. I told you I was a bad boy from the start. That won’t change, but only in the bedroom, only in our private moments, other than that I’ll treat you like a queen.” He paused, his voice a breath of a whisper. “You’re the only woman I’d ever allow to hold me captive.” He kissed her with a tenderness he didn’t even know he possessed.
“I fell kind of dizzy,” she said. “I need to sit down.”
“What you need is to eat and get some rest. Come, lay down on the couch and I’ll bring you something to eat.”
“I feel so weak. I think I’ll just sit here.”
“No.” He swept her up in his arms and carrying her with ease, laid her down on the couch. “I’ll be right back.”
He brought out two plates filled with steaming fried chicken and gravy laden biscuits and two glasses of water with a slice of lemon on the rims.
“Enrique prepared these earlier in case you’re wondering. I can’t cook, but I can run a microwave.”
She devoured the food and drank large gulps of the water, finally slowing down as the sustenance gave her some of her strength back. He ate slowly and drank half of the water.
“You do eat, after all. I was beginning to wonder. I’ve never seen you eat that much.”
“I’m not totally abnormal. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to use the bathroom.”
He closed the bathroom door and downed a couple of beeps to flush the food out of his blood as quickly as possible. He took a small flask from his inside jacket pocket and drank every drop of its contents, closing his eyes, feeling the thick blood flow down his throat, satisfying his own hunger. He rinsed his mouth with water and went back to her. She lay fast asleep on the couch.
Chapter 23
Jennifer woke with a start in a strange bed. Then she remembered the new apartment. She checked her cell phone for the time. It was 1:00 am. How did she get here? The last thing she remembered was falling asleep on the couch. He must’ve carried her to bed. She looked down. Her mother’s afghan had been lovingly placed over her.
She saw him asleep on the other side of the bed. His bottom half was covered, his chest bare, his left arm lightly draped over her waist.
She gazed at him, never having seen him asleep before. His face was peaceful and still he looked totally masculine and utterly sexy. His long dark lashes created shadows under his eyes, his mouth was slightly parted. She ran her fingers lightly across his face, his upper arms and chest, not wanting to wake him.
Gingerly, she lifted the covers and peeked down at the lower half of his body. She smiled, even as she felt tears come to her eyes. He still had his pants on. He’d removed his belt and the top button was undone, but he hadn’t taken them off. She knew he hadn’t done so out of respect for her. Her heart pounded, not with passion or her never ending lust for him, but with pure love. If she thought she loved him before, she knew she loved him now.
“Can I help you find something Jennifer?” He asked softly.
He’d startled her. She dropped the covers and looked at him. His eyes were alert, as if he hadn’t been sleeping at all. He must’ve been asleep for a very short time before she awoke.
She lay sideways, facing him and looked deep into his eyes.
“You never cease to amaze me, Dorian Taylor.”
“Oh?”
“You’re sweet. Admit it.”
“Sweet? That’s not the way I’d describe myself.” He frowned. “Well . . . except for one part of my anatomy.” His mouth turned up at one corner in that crooked and utterly devastating smile of his. He pulled her to him.
She laid her head on his chest and sighed. “Tell me about your life Dorian.”
“What would you like to know?”
“What was your childhood like?”
“It was relatively normal, I guess. I grew up in the English countryside and spent a lot of time hunting and fishing. I also read a lot and still do. Reading was my mother’s passion and it became mine as well.”
“I like to read too,” she said. “I have to tell you, I would’ve never guessed you were raised in the country, like me. You’re so sophisticated. I pegged you for a city boy through and through. I can’t even imagine you being an outdoor type.”
“Indeed,” he raised his brows. “Well I am, but that was a long time ago.”
“A long time ago? How long could it be? You’re only 24.”
He stopped and stared at her, an odd look in his eyes. He didn’t respond to the remark.
He continued. “My mother, Genevieve, was a kind, loving and very beautiful woman. She came from a respectable, French family. When they married, my family was aristocrats. Over time, the money was gone and all we had left was our name. She was not a happy woman.
As for my father, I swore I’d never be like him. I didn’t like the way he treated her and understood her despair completely. He drank a lot and was a womanizer.
When she became ill, he left her alone more often than not. He visited prostitutes constantly while she lay dying. He brought me with him once, wanted me to have sex with one of those women. I refused. I was utterly devastated then. Not only was he betraying my mother, he was trying to pull me into his sordid world. I tried to take care of her. But a son is no substitute for a loving husband. As I’ve told you, I wasn’t there when she died. It haunts me to this very day.”
“I’m so sorry. It sounds as if you carried a heavy burden for someone so young Dorian. What happened to your father?”
He hesitated, as if it was too painful to talk about. “He was attacked by a pack of wolves. We were hungry then and hunting for food. He was injured and the wolves, they were just as h
ungry as we were. They caught the scent of blood and ripped him apart in minutes.”
“How awful! That’s far from a relatively normal childhood.”
“I suppose it was,” he said quietly.
“How did you escape from the wolves?” She was curious. There wasn’t a single mark, scar or blemish anywhere on his body.
“Malachi was in the woods that day. He saved my life. We’ve been together ever since, first as friends, later as business partners.”
“And together you created Taylor and Van Ness and e.Vampire.com? Why e.Vampire? You must’ve been rich with the success of the software company.”
“I had a knack right from the start with computers and software and the like. Malachi provided the capital for the start-up but I, along with Ian and others handle the business. We do quite well. I design most of the software myself with the help of the engineers. I know I could leave a lot of it to them, but as you know, I’m a control freak.”
“So, was e.Vampire.com his idea or yours?”
His looked her directly in the eye. “I created e.Vampire.com.”
“Why?”
He sighed. “Because I was lonely. I thought it might be a way to meet someone special.”
“Why the BDSM element?”
“It was all I knew. It’s as simple as that.”
“But you like that kind of sex, you admitted it, Dorian.”
“That’s true to a point. I won’t lie nor will I blame Malachi for what I’ve done. However, the really bad things I’ve done sexually in the past were learned behaviors. I didn’t have any fantasies of being tied up or raped in my youth. I have no reason, psychological or otherwise that would make BDSM my predominant sexual style. I liked what you and I did together in that room. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think you did too.”
She was stunned for a moment. He was right. She really had liked it. What did that make her?
“It’s okay to admit it Jennifer. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with what we did or me telling you I want to fuck you and you telling me what you want.”
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