At His Mercy

by Shelly Bell

  “Eyes on mine, Angel,” he demanded as he moved between her thighs and notched his cock to her opening. “You close them and I stop.” He inched his way in slowly, letting her grow accustomed to his size. “And trust me, you do not want me to stop.” Her lids began to shut, but at his threat, they flew open. Dominance wasn’t about whips and chains or fancy sex toys; it was about assertion of power. Angel had tried her hardest to test it, possibly to even usurp it, but right now, with her soft body underneath his, she yielded to him completely.

  Fully seating himself inside her without any resistance, he realized he’d aptly named her Angel because he had truly found heaven in her pussy. Heat traveled from the tip of his cock to his balls as he slid his length back and forth, pumping shallowly. “Wrap those gorgeous legs around my waist and hold on, Angel. I’m about to take you on the ride of your life.”

  She clung to him as if he were her life raft, her thighs squeezing his hips as she planted the heels of her dainty feet above his tailbone, and her fingertips gripping his shoulder blades. She surrounded him, every part of her touching him, inside and out. He wanted to bury himself deep and take her hard, slam against her over and over again until they both exploded and collapsed in a sweaty heap of tangled limbs. Instead, he fought against his urges, slowly and steadily rocking into her as if they had all the time in the world.

  In between her gasps caused by his pelvic bone brushing against her clitoris, Angel’s brows crinkled in confusion. “I thought you were going to take me on a ride.”

  “I am,” he said, continuing to fuck her at a leisurely pace that would drive them both out of their minds. “Fast and hard will get us both off, but where’s the fun in that? Some rides are meant to be savored.” He wasn’t in the mood for a quick fuck. Not with her. He kissed her lips with tenderness, mirroring their lovemaking. “Submit to me, Angel, and let go.”

  She nodded, her lashes fluttering as she fought to keep her eyes open, and her nails digging into the skin of his back. Little by little, he was stoking the fire, letting the pressure build, and careful not to let it burn out of control.

  When her gaze skittered away, he forced his hips to stop moving, an action much harder on him than her. But she’d broken his demand to look into his eyes. As her Dom, it was his role to set and enforce the rules or she’d never submit to him. Bracing his weight on one arm, he grabbed her chin and coaxed her eyes back to his. “It’s not supposed to be easy. Nothing worthwhile ever is. But the reward…” He swiveled his pelvis and drove his needy cock inside her. “The reward will be worth it.”

  He took her hands in his, lacing their fingers, and brought them above her head. They stared into one another’s eyes as he moved inside her, their bodies intertwined, turning two into one. Seduced by the unguarded sensuality reflected in her emerald irises, he lost himself in her innocence.

  It was as if she was an endless well and he was falling into her.

  He’d gladly drown.

  Her moans floated in the air like a symphony in a room filled with rock music, unique and lovely. Her inner walls tightened around him and her legs trembled.

  “Tristan?” she half asked, half cried, her limbs tensing.

  “Fall, Angel,” he whispered. “I promise to catch you.”

  She repeated his name, but this time, she shouted it. Moans spilled from her lips and tears slid from her eyes as her pussy clenched and released around him, over and over. Through it all, his little submissive’s eyes never left his. Not once.

  It was too much for him. As much as he wanted to remain buried inside her for hours, he’d reached his limit.

  Electric sparks skated down his spine and wrapped around his balls. Heat blasted through him, tearing away his control. He came and came hard, harder than he’d ever come before. And still he couldn’t stop himself from slowly pumping himself into her, not nearly ready to leave the oasis of Angel’s body. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

  But as her Dom for the night, he knew it was time to attend to her needs. A slight gasp escaped her as he gripped the condom and carefully removed himself from her slick heat.

  “Stay put,” he whispered, planting a chaste kiss on her forehead. She didn’t move, sleepiness evident in her half-lidded eyes. He disposed of the condom, then quickly collected a wet washcloth and a tube of arnica cream from the adjoining bathroom. When he returned to her not a minute later, he wasn’t a bit surprised to find her already dozing.

  For her being a newbie to BDSM, he’d worked her over pretty hard. He probably should’ve taken it easier on her tonight, but he didn’t regret his decision to show her what it could be like between them. In the years since he’d lost everything, he’d become convinced that a true connection between a Dom and sub was a fictional tale better suited for an erotic romance story. But Angel had him reconsidering.

  Her eyes fluttered as he gently cleaned between her legs. “What are you doing?” she asked groggily.

  He smiled at her. “Aftercare.”

  She closed her eyes again and sighed. “It’s nice. Thank you.”

  It was nice. Damned nice. Not that he minded doing it, but he’d always considered aftercare as a requirement. This was different. He wanted to take care of Angel. As she flitted in and out of sleep, he massaged her arms and legs and applied arnica cream to reduce the swelling from the flogging. Then he helped her under the covers and did the one thing he hadn’t done in years.

  He slid into bed beside her.

  He didn’t do sleepovers with subs because it gave them expectations of the possibility of more. And he just wasn’t capable of it.

  Until now.

  Until her.

  Although he swore to himself he’d let her rest, he woke her up twice during the night to fuck her again. He promised himself that, in the morning, he’d make his breakfast out of her pussy before asking to see her again.

  But when he opened his eyes to the sun streaming in through the window, his arms were empty. She had left, the only trace of her the scent of vanilla and sex lingering in the air.

  If he wanted to, he could track her down through her cousin, Dreama, but they’d agreed to one night, and despite having changed his mind, he’d honor her wishes. After all, with his new job, he’d have little time to devote to a relationship.

  He rolled out of bed and got dressed. There were a dozen things to do before he left for Edison University.

  Perhaps someday, when the timing was right, he and Angel would meet again.

  He stuck his hand in his pocket, his palm closing over soft cotton.

  Until then…he was keeping her panties as a souvenir.

  Five

  Carrying a heavy backpack filled to capacity with gently used textbooks, Isabella breathed in the fresh air and took in the beauty of the campus. She really loved the small-town feel and the way it was tucked away in the sparsely populated Upper Peninsula of Michigan. Twelve hours north of home and a more temperate climate, it wouldn’t be long before the forest surrounding the campus turned from a deep dark green to a mass of vibrant orange, yellow, and red. There wasn’t a cloud in the blue sky, and the sun shone on the entire campus, making it look like one of those photos on the front of the school brochures used to lure potential students. Before this morning, Isabella would’ve thought the pictures were Photoshopped, but clearly, Edison University didn’t require it.

  She couldn’t believe she was finally here. After the incident, there was a time she thought she’d never leave her parents’ home for college. But she didn’t want the life of her parents or her siblings, one tied to the family business. While she loved to bake, she wanted to do something…more. That’s why she’d fought so hard to regain her power through countless sessions of therapy and experimenting with BDSM. She couldn’t give up her dreams of having her own business someday. She wasn’t sure if it meant her own bakery or if she’d find another passion. But Edison was the first step in making her dream a reality.

  As she crossed a short cobblestone bridge that a
rched over the Edison River, a smile tugged at her lips. Halfway across, she stopped and looked over the wooden edge, watching the ducks floating down the gentle stream and diving their heads into the water for tiny fish darting in between the rocks.

  She hadn’t been able to get the hours she spent with Tristan off her mind. He’d given her so much more than he knew. More than memories that made her heart race and her thighs clench. He’d given her confidence. Confidence in herself. Confidence in her sexuality. Confidence that some men could be trusted. If she ever saw him again, she’d tell him how much that night last week had meant to her.

  She hadn’t been prepared for the lingering effects Tristan would have on her. He invaded her thoughts several times a day, often at the most inopportune times, like at her going-away dinner with the entire family, when her toddler cousin proudly stated green was for go and red was for stop. While everyone else had clapped, Isabella had grown hot, blushing from head to toe as her mind flew back to Tristan asking her what color she was at as he flogged her to the strongest orgasm she’d ever had. Well, at least until he’d blown that one out of the water later that night.

  She shivered, the warm late summer air unable to prevent the goose bumps from forming, and the latent desire leftover from last week made yet another appearance. At least this time there was no one around to witness the way her body reacted to her memories.

  Continuing on the path back to her dorm, she wondered if her roommate, Chloe, would be there when she returned. Her half of the dorm room had already been set up by the time Isabella had arrived late that morning, but Chloe was conspicuously absent. Isabella had unpacked without interruption, listening to the squeals of happiness coming from the other rooms. Maybe she should have left her own door open and met the women who would share her floor, but after years without any close friends, she’d grown uncomfortable around groups of people. Besides, she wasn’t here to socialize. College was her opportunity to make something of herself, and she wouldn’t allow anything to interfere with goal.

  Not even the memories of Tristan gazing into her eyes as he made love to her. And that’s what it had been. Making love. The words sex and fucking couldn’t come close to explaining what had transpired between them. After her flogging, she’d expected he’d want to do something kinky like blindfold her. Instead, Tristan had proven his dominance over her with nothing more than his voice and his eyes. He’d surprised her with his soft caresses and sweet whispers. The intensity of their lovemaking had thrown her for a loop she’d yet to recover from. She never would’ve guessed a man like him would be capable of such tenderness. As he’d moved inside her, she’d never felt more connected to another person. Not even Tony, the boy she had supposedly loved at one time. And she realized, if given the chance, she could’ve fallen in love with Tristan.

  But her time at the play party hadn’t been about love. All she’d wanted was one night of submission to tide her over for four years. Yet, it had done so much more than she ever could have anticipated. After plodding through life like the living dead for a year, she felt as though she’d awoken from a deep slumber and had gone from dreaming in black and white to living in a vibrant, colorful world. Her cupcakes tasted sweeter. The music playing in the background in the bakery sounded clearer. She appreciated her brother’s gentle ribbing and her parents’ hugs more.

  Everything had changed, and she wasn’t quite sure what was responsible for it. Was it the confirmation of her submission? A by-product of the amazing orgasms? The empowerment from taking charge of her sexuality? Or did it have to do with the man who’d breathed life into her again?

  After waking up in Tristan’s arms in the early morning, she’d debated whether to go back to sleep or leave with her pride still intact. In the end, she’d chosen to flee like a coward, too afraid everything they had shared would somehow disappear in the morning light. By leaving before he’d awoken, she’d avoided the inevitable awkward brush-off. That way, she’d been able to maintain the fantasy that the night had meant as much to him as it had to her.

  She rubbed the scar on her right wrist as she crossed the grassy courtyard in the middle of the four freshman dorms. She’d always be grateful to Tristan for what he’d given her. Maybe someday after she graduated and returned to the city their paths would cross again.

  Opening the door of her building, she practically moaned at the blast of cool air that hit her face. She didn’t have to look in a mirror to know her face was red and that her hair was plastered to it. Walking back from the bookstore with those heavy textbooks on her back had turned her into a sweaty mess, and she couldn’t imagine it would get much better once she finished climbing the four flights of stairs to her floor. If luck was on her side, she’d have time to take a shower and change before finally meeting Chloe.

  After emailing each other all summer, Isabella felt as if she already knew her. They’d connected on the university’s roommate search Facebook page when Chloe responded to Isabella’s post looking for another business major. Chloe was majoring in music, but responded anyway, and they’d bonded over their love of everything Chris Pine.

  But of course, the door of her room was wide open, meaning Chloe was inside. Wonderful first impression she’d be giving her.

  Even though the room was half hers, she knocked, giving her roommate a heads-up before she took a step inside. “Hello?”

  The unmistakable sound of high heels clacked on the linoleum floor. “Isabella?”

  Taller than her by at least four inches, with a tiny waist and straight brown hair with not a strand out of place, Chloe smiled widely, showing off a set of perfect white teeth just before barreling into Isabella and hugging her tightly. “I can’t believe I finally get to meet you.”

  Isabella laughed as she hugged her back. How long had it been since she’d had a friend that wasn’t related to her? “Me too.”

  Chloe stepped back and waved her French-manicured hand. “Come in. I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you arrived. I met up with some of the guys on the third floor for lunch. I’ll introduce you to them later tonight.”

  “Tonight?” Isabella removed her backpack and temporarily set it by their door, the weight of it starting to hurt her shoulders.

  “Our floor is hosting a progressive party, and we lucked out because our room is tequila.”

  Isabella couldn’t begin to guess why tequila was lucky. From everything she’d witnessed of Dreama drinking too many margaritas, tequila came with one hell of a hangover. “I’m sorry. What’s a progressive party?”

  Chloe’s arched brow rose as she gave her another bright smile. “Oh, so every room offers a different kind of alcohol. We’re tequila.” She pointed to the left. “Julia and Sophia next door are vodka. Across the hall, Tracy and Lindy are light beer. People go from room to room for a drink and to meet each other. You know, as an icebreaker. Too bad you missed the last few nights. The parties have been wicked fun.”

  Needing to rest her feet, Isabella sat on the end of their blue-and-white-striped college-supplied couch, not surprised to feel springs digging into her upper thigh. Hopefully, her twin mattress would be in better condition. “Won’t we get in trouble with the RA for drinking?”

  Chloe sat beside her. “Who do you think is buying it all? Madison, she’s at the room by the stairs on our side of the hall, is really cool. You should see her at beer pong. She’s, like, the dorm champ. Anyway, I already covered your share, so you owe me twenty bucks. If you don’t have the money, don’t worry about it. I’m loaded. Well, at least my mother is rich, and since I’m an only child, she spoils me rotten.”

  Twenty dollars? That was her food and drink budget for the entire week. “Uh, Chloe. I don’t drink.”

  Chloe’s gaze fell upon one of Isabella’s scars. Her roommate’s eyes widened. “Oh. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed you’d want to participate. I just thought you might want to meet everyone in the dorm, especially since you’ve missed the last few days of move-in week. But honestly, I’m g
ood with keeping our door shut and staying in with you tonight. You can meet the guys another time.”

  Ugh, if there was one thing she despised, it was pity. She knew people had misconceptions about her scars. After all, when they saw long, jagged scars on both wrists, their minds typically assumed a suicide attempt. She didn’t blame them for their assumptions. But it placed her in the predicament of either letting them believe it or having to explain how she really got them.

  Not Tristan though. He’d accepted her answer at face value and hadn’t pressed her for details. Maybe a day would come when she’d trust Chloe enough to tell her the truth about her scars, but it wasn’t today. Isabella would have to suck down her pride and allow Chloe to believe she’d once tried to end her own life. But that didn’t mean she would have to accept her pity.

  She’d considered telling Chloe about the incident, but the moment had never seemed right. Besides, college was the time for a fresh start.

  Isabella rummaged through her pocket and came up with a twenty she’d stuck in there in case she needed it on her trip to the bookstore, and handed it to Chloe. “No. That’s fine. Don’t worry about it. We can be the tequila room.”

  Chloe hesitated for a moment before accepting the money. “Thanks. I’ll make sure I ask you next time. It’s an only-child thing. I’m not used to having to live with anyone else, but I promise to be more thoughtful of you in the future.”

  Isabella lifted one shoulder. “I know I’m not what you expected.”

  “You don’t have to drink for me to like you. I already do.” She bumped Isabella’s knee with hers, then snatched her cell from the oak coffee table in front of them. “I’m going to call my mom to check in. If I don’t return her call within a couple hours, she’ll worry that I’ve been kidnapped.” Standing, she gave a little laugh and pointed to a small pile of mail lying on the table. “Oh, I forgot. That’s all yours.”

  As Chloe walked down the hall toward her bedroom, Isabella grabbed her mail, grateful for the privacy. Most of the dorm rooms on campus were one big room with two beds and two desks, but hers was divided into three different rooms, a wall between two bedrooms and a sitting area. It was the luck of the draw, and for once, she’d gotten lucky. With a big family, she was used to the lack of privacy, but since the incident, she’d come to need it more and more. Thank goodness the night terrors had stopped or she would have never been able to have a roommate. Since she couldn’t afford a single, she would’ve been forced to remain living at home and to commute to the local university. And as much as it would’ve made financial sense, she was ready to spread her wings. If she’d stayed with her family where everyone still treated her like a victim, she would’ve continued living like one.