by Alice Raine
‘No. I promise. You know I never lie to you, Sir,’ she added.
This was true. As far as I knew, Stella was always completely honest with me, even if it meant she took more of a punishment like earlier. Her complete and utter integrity was one of her defining qualities, and something that I respected a great deal.
Shifting my grip to her wrist, I sucked one of Stella’s fingers into my mouth and enjoyed a moment of running my tongue around it. ‘Nope, not that one,’ I murmured, before placing the next finger in my mouth. I repeated this process until I put her index finger into my mouth and tasted the slightly salty, musky tang of her bodily fluids. Looking up at her, I grinned darkly. ‘Ah-ha,’ I said around her finger, once again running my tongue the length of the digit. ‘This is the one you used to touch yourself, isn’t it?’ I asked softly.
Apparently shocked by how light-hearted my tone had become – it was shocking, I was rarely this playful – Stella looked up at me with wide eyes, smiled shyly, and then nodded. ‘I thought so, I can taste you,’ I added, sucking her finger harder and giving it a little bite. Removing her hand, I rubbed my thumb over the small indentations where my teeth had been. ‘That’s to remind you not to touch yourself unless I say so,’ I told her with another darker smile breaking on my lips as I decided that I rather liked marking her as mine.
Placing her hand down near her groin, I straightened up and made myself comfortable against the headboard. ‘Show me how you rubbed yourself.’
Stella frowned, and in return, I smiled, she was obviously embarrassed by my demand. ‘It can be embarrassing to talk about sex, or do something sexual when your partner simply watches, but Stella, look how much the idea of watching you excites me,’ I explained, jerking a nod down at my straining erection. As if on cue it jerked up against my belly expectantly, and as I glanced back at Stella, I saw a soft smile on her lips as she looked at my arousal. Yeah, I often grinned when I eyed my big boy too. Someone upstairs had been generous when creating me because I was pretty lucky in that department.
‘You must have been very frustrated, I bet it felt good to touch yourself a little bit, go on show me what you did,’ I coaxed her, placing her hand even lower on her belly in assistance. Thankfully, my persuasion had worked this time and with a small clearing of her throat Stella averted her eyes and began to stroke herself. Greedily I watched as her finger dipped between her folds only to come out glistening with her arousal as she moaned softly.
Christ, it suddenly felt warm in the bedroom. Really fucking warm. Swallowing, I watched Stella fondle herself for a few more seconds before my composure cracked and I leapt on her. Literally, like a caged tiger suddenly released. Time to relieve her frustration. Not to mention mine.
Chapter Twenty-two – Stella
Glancing at the clock, I was shocked to see that it was 2.30 a.m. Shaking my head I smiled to myself. Two thirty, and Nathan had only just finished getting his fill of me for the night. Or should that be morning? A broader grin spread on my lips at the thought. Blimey, that had been a sex marathon and a half; perhaps I should turn up late to Nathan’s more often if that was the reaction it got from him.
Rolling over towards his warm body I barely had time to blink before I registered that Nathan was up and gone from the room with a curse. Then it was another second or so until I could co-ordinate my ears to realise that there was a huge commotion going on somewhere outside the bedroom.
Bloody hell! Burglars! Surely it must be, it was two frigging thirty in the morning who else could it be? Jumping up I wrapped a sheet around myself and half tripped, half stumbled my way after him before realising that I’d be absolutely no help to him wrapped in a sheet. Cursing I dropped the sheet and quickly yanked on his discarded T-shirt before high tailing it out of the room.
My heart was hammering erratically in my chest, but as I reached the hallway, the scene by the front door was not what I had expected at all. Nathan wasn’t fighting off some intruder as I had expected, nope, before me I watched as Nathan was stood frozen to the spot clad only in his boxer shorts staring helplessly at an agitated man who looked startlingly similar to himself. The man must surely be related to Nathan because apart from his dark, wavy hair the two could practically be twins.
Grabbing at his hair, the mystery man started swinging helplessly around on the spot crying and grimacing and uttering nonsensical sentences to a dazed Nathan who looked like he was chewing on his lip hard enough to break the skin.
The only words of his rant that I caught were ‘Rebecca’, ‘gone’, ‘crazy’, ‘cane’, and a huge string of fiery expletives. Clearly, something major had happened involving someone called Rebecca.
Then before my eyes, the man dropped to his knees, shaking, sobbing, and growling as if in great pain, followed shortly by Nathan, who to my astonishment simply wrapped himself around the guy and pulled him to his chest, trying to soothe him by rubbing his back and murmuring soft words I couldn’t hear.
Christ, this was a show of emotion I had never experienced or expected to see from Nathaniel Jackson. He obviously cared a great deal about this guy and I suddenly felt as if I might be intruding on a hugely personal moment. There was no might about it: as I watched Nathan rocking the distraught man in his arms, I knew I was intruding on a hugely personal moment. As if reading my mind, he chose that exact moment to look up and uncharacteristically catch my eye. Nathan shot me a scowling glance before tipping his chin towards the bedrooms in a sign for me to leave him to it. I nodded my understanding, but as I turned he spoke. ‘In fact, get dressed, Stella, you should leave.’ Glancing back at him in surprise, I saw that he had already dismissed me and was once again intently focused on the other man.
Walking back to the bedroom, I felt the adrenaline rush from earlier leave my body and be replaced by a slighted feeling from Nathan’s cold dismissal of me. It was clear that something major had occurred to Nathan’s friend, brother, whatever he was, but I still would have expected him to treat me with a little more respect than just ordering me to leave.
I stopped dressing abruptly and closed my eyes on a grimace. Bugger, I was getting too attached to him, wasn’t I? Allowing girly fantasies of Nathan as a knight in shining armour to cloud my view of things, but this was no fairy tale and he was certainly no knight, he was my dominant who fucked me at the weekends, end of story.
My posture slumped and I collapsed into a chair, resting my face in my hands and breathing heavily. From the ache in my chest, it was suddenly shockingly clear that I no longer just thought of Nathan as my weekend sex guy. Shit. What a mess. Huffing out an irritated breath at my own stupidity I pushed my wayward hair from my face and jumped up, dressing in record time so I could leave a place where I was no longer wanted.
Returning to the lounge, I was intent on slipping out if possible, but found that Nathan and the man were now both standing and near the door, thwarting any ideas I had of a stealthy escape.
Chewing on my lip as I quietly made my way up the corridor, I watched Nathan carefully and saw the tension obvious in his bunched shoulders. He didn’t notice my approach. Instead, his eyes were fixed on the mystery guy who seemed to have got himself marginally under control now, even though he still looked terrible and had blood red eyes from crying.
It was odd, as stressful as this situation was I couldn’t help but notice that Nathan had no issues with full eye contact with this man at all, meeting his gaze boldly and continuously. Interesting.
They were talking softly but as I got closer, I overheard Nathan’s last sentence. ‘Stay here tonight, Nicholas; it’s Sunday tomorrow; we can spend the day chilling here, you can talk if you want. I’ll send Stella home. I can work from home next week so stay as long as you need. Maybe after work one night next week we can go for some drinks and talk once you’ve calmed down.’
As I heard Nathan refer to the man as ‘Nicholas’, it all fell into place for me. I’d been right; they were related. This man was Nathan’s brother, Nicholas. A couple of yea
rs ago I’d been reading some crappy work magazine and it had featured an article on Nathaniel Jackson Architecture and how both the Jackson brothers had hit the top of success in their fields, Nathan in industry, and Nicholas for skill with musical instruments. If memory served me correctly, which it might not have because it was the middle of the frigging night and I was knackered, Nicholas was famous for his piano playing.
Glancing again at the brothers I noticed that although he looked marginally more composed, Nicholas’ hands were shaking and he was chewing on the inside of his lip like mad. Similar agitation habits to his brother then, I noted with a raised brow.
Finally seeing my approach Nathan briefly flicked a glance at me then shuffled awkwardly on his feet. ‘Stella, this is Nicholas, my brother.’ He indicated between us with his hand. ‘Nicholas, this is Stella, my sub.’ I winced at the introduction, then blushed. It might be true but it still sounded strange out loud to be referred to as a ‘sub’. In fact, why did he even have to say ‘sub’ at all? He could just have said, ‘This is Stella,’ and left it at that. Although thinking about how blunt Nathan usually was when it came to conversation it could actually have been a hell of a lot worse I suppose, he might have given a more full definition that would have left me cringing even more … ‘Nicholas, this is Stella. Stella enjoys light bondage, rough sex, and last week she let me stick my finger up her arse while in a nightclub full of people …’ A huge blush heated my cheeks. OK, so being introduced as his sub was a hell of a lot better than that description. Sub or sex slut? Jeez, what the hell was I doing with my life when stuff like this was actually a consideration for me?
Placing a light hand on my back Nathan then guided me towards the door indicating that he wanted me gone. I hid my upset from Nathan by keeping my eyes averted, but I couldn’t hide it from myself and my stomach roiled and twisted uncomfortably as we reached the door.
Nathan stopped just short of the door and turned to me, but I stared at his bare feet not happy at all at how my body was reacting to his sudden dismissal of me. ‘I need to spend some time with my brother, he’s had a bit of a crisis tonight,’ he said in way of apology, although to be fair I’d have had to be blind and deaf not to figure that much out on my own. ‘Nicholas’ driver, Mr Burrett, is downstairs, he’ll take you home,’ Nathan said before pausing thoughtfully. ‘You’ll come next weekend?’ he asked, apparently wondering if I would show after being chucked out tonight.
To be honest I’d been asking myself the same question, but, as tempted as I was to take my mood out on him, it was obvious Nathan needed to help his brother so I resisted the urge to be snarly with him and decided not to jump to any rash decisions either. It was the middle of the night after all, and I was functioning on barely any sleep.
‘Yep. I’ll see you next Friday. I hope your brother is OK,’ I mumbled as I stood waiting for him to open the door. An awkward moment hung between us, Nathan never saw me out at the end of our weekends, normally when Monday morning came around he had either already gone to work or was ensconced in his office as I left. We both loitered, him looking uncomfortable and me feeling like a teenager on a date, would he kiss me goodbye? I soon got my answer as Nathan opened the door and stood back. ‘Close the door behind you,’ he murmured giving me one last look before turning back to Nicholas.
No goodnight kiss, then. Not that I’d really expected one. My abrupt departure from Nathan’s left me seriously thinking about exactly what I was doing in this ‘thing’ with him, and as I did the mortifying walk of shame past the night watchman in the lobby of his swanky apartments I’d never felt quite so much like a used and discarded sex thing in all my life. Maybe it was time to do more than just walk home, maybe it was time to walk away for good.
Chapter Twenty-three – Nathan
After I’d seen Stella out, I jogged to my bedroom to grab a pair of tracksuit bottoms and pull on something to cover my chest. I wasn’t exactly sure what the fuck was wrong with Nicholas, but his appearance on my doorstep in the middle of the night looking like death warmed up had certainly scared the shit out of me.
Grabbing a T-shirt, I had it halfway over my head when I noticed it was warm against my face. Frowning, I sniffed it and realised it must have been the one Stella had just been wearing. Instead of getting pissed off that she was again wearing my clothes without asking I couldn’t help but sniff the cotton again and enjoy the faint smell of her that lingered on the fabric.
As much as I would have loved to lose myself in Stella’s scent, preferably accompanied by her lithe little body, I knew that ship had sailed, I’d sent her home, not very politely either, a realisation that had me chewing on my lower lip in regret. Shaking my head, I practically snarled in annoyance at myself. She was my submissive for fuck’s sake, misplaced feeling of guilt shouldn’t be affecting me right now when what I really needed to do was get to the bottom of what ever had upset my brother.
When I returned to the lounge I felt my stomach twist with apprehension, Nicholas was sat in total darkness, highlighted only by the moon shining in through my huge, glass wall. Sighing, I shook my head. Whatever had happened had seriously messed him up; in fact, I hadn’t seen my brother this distraught for years.
I clicked on a lamp and watched as Nicholas leaned himself forwards and rested his elbows on his knees so he could hold his head in his hands. I couldn’t see his face, but I was pretty sure he was crying again and didn’t want me to see. I ran a hand through my hair and scratched at the back of my neck as I considered what to do. Fuck, I was no good at this type of thing, where the hell did I start?
Remaining silent, I padded across to him and took a seat on the wooden coffee table directly in front of his armchair. Close proximity was probably a good start; it would make him feel more supported. My eyes ran over him – he was wearing a crumpled grey T-shirt that was totally at odds with his smart trousers, ones I recognised as his concert suit because they had a line of black silk running down the side crease. It seemed he’d pretty much come here straight from his concert tonight.
‘Right then, Nicholas, tell me what happened,’ I murmured. Hopefully he’d do most of the talking and I could just do my best attempt at being a supportive brother.
Nicholas was silent for so long I thought he hadn’t heard me so I repeated my question with a little more force. ‘Nicholas, tell me what happened.’ Then, before I knew what had hit me, Nicholas had reared up from his chair, gripped my T-shirt by the collar and forced me back on the coffee table with a roar. ‘You, Nathan! You fucking happened!’ he screamed, a manic expression on his face as he shook me so violently that the back of my head bounced off the coffee table several times.
What the hell had I done? Fuck, I’d not seen him so crazy for years. Back when we were teenagers and dealing with the aftermath of Nicholas’ attempted suicide he would sometimes get mad, rampage around the flat for a few minutes smashing stuff, but then completely deflate and cry for hours. He was so insular and quiet at the time, never talking about what had happened or how he felt that I suppose it had been his way of letting off steam.
Assuming that tonight’s outburst was a similar venting tactic I forced myself to stay limp and calm as Nicholas discharged his stress until I eventually felt his grip loosen above me. Finally, he let go and slid to the floor next to the table where I heard several quiet sobs mix with his heavy breathing.
Sitting up I rubbed at my head with a wince. That would definitely bruise tomorrow. Then I looked to Nicholas to see if he wanted to speak yet. He was sat hugging his knees to his chest and still staring at the floor. ‘I hurt her, Nathan. I really fucking hurt Rebecca,’ he whispered thickly. So this was to do with his piano student and now girlfriend, Rebecca. The skin on my neck prickled as his words sunk in. Fuck, what the hell did he mean? Hurt emotionally or hurt physically? Having just experienced a small shot of his anger just now I suddenly got a very bad feeling in my gut.
‘Nicholas, is she OK? Where’s Rebecca now?’ I asked urgently.
Nicholas ignored me, speaking as if I wasn’t even there. ‘When I spoke to you on the phone before my concert you said I shouldn’t date her … said we couldn’t do relationships like that.’ He paused, running a shaky hand through his sweat slicked hair. ‘It got me thinking about Dad and all the shit he put me through and I thought maybe you were right, maybe I am like him, so after the concert I called Rebecca and finished with her.’ His hair got a full on tug this time as if he actually wanted to yank it from his scalp, and I winced. ‘But Rebecca wouldn’t accept it. She bloody well turned up at my house! It was the middle of the fucking night and she got in a cab with some stranger and came to my house! I was so fucking mad with her.’
None of this was easing my concern about Rebecca’s wellbeing so I tried again to establish exactly how Nicholas had ‘hurt’ Rebecca. ‘You were confused and mad, I get that, Nicholas, but what happened to Rebecca? Where is she?’
‘I told her what you said about how I was incapable of relationships and that she was better off without me but she just wouldn’t leave it be. She’s. So. Fucking. Stubborn.’ He was grinding the words out now, the muscles on his jaw going into hyper-drive as they twitched and tensed. ‘I guess I flipped out, I don’t really know what happened … it’s pretty blurry … but somehow I ended up in the spare room with her and I grabbed a cane …’
Oh fuck – no. My heart almost stopped in my chest at the implication of my brother’s words. The night that Nicholas had tried to kill himself had been because our father had beat him unconscious with a cane. Is that what he’d done to Rebecca?
‘Christ, Nicholas … is she OK? Is Rebecca OK? Do I need to make some calls?’ My mind was rapidly running through all the contacts I had who might be able to help me out if Nicholas had done some real damage to Rebecca. I had several friends who were doctors who could help if she was injured … Fuck … what if it was worse? Jesus, when I’d told him not to date her I had meant finish with her, not beat the shit out of her. What if Nicholas had really lost it? My back started to sweat profusely as my mind raced through options. I knew at least one trusted solicitor who owed me a favour …
