by Eden Bradley
He helped her to her feet and pulled a cord on the wall, summoning a trio of slaves to take her away to care for her and return her to her Master. His arms felt empty the moment he let her go. His chest tightened when she looked over her shoulder at him, her expression imploring. He knew just how she felt.
He moved to the long windows, pulled the heavy drapery aside, and peered out into the darkened garden, running a hand through his hair. Two days. Two days before she would be away from his uncle’s house, before he could safely contact her. He had a lot of thinking to do between now and then, once he’d had a chance to calm down. He could barely think straight now. Not after having his hands on her, inside her, his mouth on hers.
His erection gave a jump at the thought, but there was a hell of a lot more to it than that. More to her. He couldn’t explain how he knew it. But she’d felt as though she belonged to him from the first moment he’d set eyes on her.
Meanwhile, he would suffer. He would go home, stroke himself to orgasm thinking of her. But he wouldn’t be satisfied until he’d talked to her. Talked to her, for God’s sake! Since when did he care what any slave had to say, as long as they were beautiful, obedient?
He had to get out of The Lair, to leave this place. He couldn’t stand to face his uncle right now.
Quickly packing his equipment in the leather bag he always carried, he made for the front door, hurrying past the main ballroom, where dozens of guests were still gathered.
Cassandra was probably in there now with Robert and that wicked bitch, Delphine.
No, don’t think about it.
Nodding at the doormen, he didn’t bother to ask for his car to be brought around, but walked down the wide driveway to where his black Porsche was parked.
Rain fell in a barely discernible spatter as he threw his bag onto the passenger seat, got in, and turned the key. The engine roared to life, and he felt the power of the car beneath his hands as he pulled out onto the street.
His head was still filled with images of her, her pale, smooth skin, her lush mouth, the taste of her, damn it. He hit the gas harder and sped through the night, down the twisting roads of Bel Aire. Past the homes of people who thought the way he and his uncle lived was sinful, depraved. Fuck them all.
His tires squealed as he took a hard turn, and there was an accompanying flash of satisfaction. But it lasted only a moment. And he realized that no matter how fast he drove, no matter how hard he ran, there was going to be no escaping his sweet Cassandra.
CHAPTER NINE
SUNDAY AFTERNOON. CASSANDRA HAD BEEN HOME for half the day and her mind was beginning to work normally again. At least, she thought it was. But so much had happened to her over the weekend she couldn’t be certain. Her body was sore in so many places, gloriously sore, and she loved that reminder of what had been done to her.
All she could really think of, though, was Marcus.
He would contact her this week, but how long would she have to wait? Absolute torture.
She sat back into the pile of brocade pillows on her red velvet sofa. Pulling one into her lap, she curled her legs beneath her and brooded.
She had never experienced anything as intense, as overwhelming, as she had when she was under Marcus’s command in that room at The Lair. She’d been in total sensory overload, she knew that. But half of it was because it was him.
She enjoyed everything Master Robert did to her, everything Mika and the other girls did, even the wicked Mistress Delphine. But Marcus made her lose her head altogether. Her head, her body, her senses.
Was she foolish to think there was some deeper connection there? Maybe. But she was convinced of it, convinced he felt it, too. That much she could read in his dark eyes, knew it when he talked to her, with that desperate edge to his voice. She felt it, too.
It didn’t make sense; they barely even knew each other. She didn’t know if he could overcome the idea that he was betraying his uncle in talking to her outside the realm of his uncle’s house, outside of those times in which his uncle had given her over to him. And if he couldn’t…
Her stomach clenched. She had to see him; she yearned for his voice, his touch. At the same time, guilt gnawed at the back of her mind. Master Robert had brought her into the world she had craved for so long. She hadn’t yet signed a slave contract with him, but still, she knew what she was doing with Marcus wasn’t right. The sinner once more. But she wasn’t going to turn away from him.
When the telephone rang she jumped, her heart pounding. She took a deep breath, picked up.
“Hello?”
“Cassandra.”
Her whole body surged at the sound of his voice in her ear. “Yes.”
“It’s Marcus.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“You don’t have to call me that now, alright? Right now we are just two people, talking.”
Not possible.
“Yes, S…Yes, Marcus.”
“That’s better.” A small rush of pleasure at the approval in his voice. “I need to talk with you, to see you. I saw in your file that you work at some sort of clothing boutique. Can you get away today?”
They kept a file on her? But she would think about that later; she had to keep track of what he was saying to her.
“Yes. I’ve taken some time off work. I needed some space to process everything.”
“Come to my house, then. I’m in the Hollywood Hills.” He gave her the address, which she scribbled on a pad by the phone. “Can you come now?”
“Now? I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
He hung up. Her hands shook as she set the phone down. She sat, unable to move for a moment, her pulse hammering so hard she could hear the roar of her own blood in her ears. But she quickly realized she had much to do to prepare herself for him, to present herself to him properly.
She pushed up from the sofa and headed for the bathroom and a quick, hot shower.
She was going to see Marcus, to be entirely alone with him. Her whole body trembled with desire at the mere thought. She wasn’t sure of what to expect, didn’t really know what was happening. But the important thing was that he wanted her. And along with that hot surge of desire was her heart fluttering in her chest. A flutter made of anticipation, and something else that almost made her want to cry.
She dressed carefully in her Roissy Academy outfit: black skirt, fitted white blouse, thigh-high stockings, and black stiletto heels. She felt completely, gloriously, naked beneath without her bra and underwear. Her body was humming with nerves, singing with lust already. In less than half an hour she would be with him.
Marcus looked out the window, watching Cassandra park her car in the driveway. She got out, moving gracefully in her short, floaty skirt. He’d never seen her in heels before; the girl had gorgeous legs.
His heart skipped a beat when she knocked at the door. Was he ready for this? For this woman who tied him up in knots? He had to grimace at the irony.
He gripped the knob, opened the door, and there she was, every beautiful inch of her. He could remember instantly the texture of her naked skin, covered now by her clothing. He could change that quickly enough, could order her to strip right there on his doorstep. But he wanted to talk to her first.
“Come in.”
“Thank you.”
He caught her scent as she moved past him and into the house. She smelled of something faintly floral and fresh, something with a touch of innocence about it, just like her.
But this girl was hardly innocent, was she?
When he gestured for her to sit down, she did, on the edge of the brown leather sofa. Her hands gripped the cushion on either side of her thighs.
Oh, God, don’t think of her thighs now.
He sat down next to her, but not too close. “Cassandra, it’s alright to talk to me. You don’t have to be afraid.”
“I’m…I’m not.” She fidgeted, looked away, then back at him, catching his gaze. She smiled beatifically, and everything inside him went soft at once.
“I can’t quite believe I’m here.”
“I’m glad you came. I had to see you. To talk more with you. I still want to tie you up and torture you; that hasn’t changed.” A small smile from her at that. “But I want…more.”
“So do I.” Her eyes were shining, her expression so trusting, it hit him like a blow.
He didn’t understand it, didn’t understand a lot of things. But he had to pull himself together, to talk to her, as he’d wanted. There were so many things he wanted—needed—to know about her. Where to start?
He reached out and took her small, warm hand in his, felt the trembling in her fingers. “Tell me, Cassandra, how did you come to find my uncle?”
“I was looking on the Internet for…people who thought the same way I did. For someone to show me all of the things I’d only ever thought about.”
She bit her lip, her small, white teeth coming down on the tender skin. Made him want to kiss her. But not yet. If he kissed her it would all be over, this talking.
She went on. “I was surprised, to find someone so real on the Internet. But there was his ad…did you know about his ad?”
“Not this one in particular. But that’s how he found Jacqueline and Laura.”
“And Mika?”
“Delphine found her. She was a gift, of sorts.”
Cassandra nodded her head, her russet curls falling around her shoulders. “I have to tell you, I had no idea this would all be so…overwhelming. I thought I would be brought into it more slowly.”
He laughed. “My uncle doesn’t do anything on a small scale.”
She was quiet a moment, then said soberly, “You love him, don’t you?”
A small dropping sensation in the pit of his stomach. “Yes. And I respect him.”
“He took you in.”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t tell me why.”
This wasn’t something he normally discussed, not even with Robert. They’d both been there; there was no need to talk about it. But he found he wanted to reveal himself to her. He didn’t understand it. But with Cassandra, he was operating so much on pure instinct. He was letting that dictate his behavior more than he was logic.
He pulled in a deep breath and began. “My father was a Hollywood stuntman, an adventurer. I think I inherited that, the need for extreme thrills, even if I get mine in a different way. I was always trying to impress him as a kid. I broke my arm sailing off the roof of our house on my bicycle when I was eight years old. Stupid. But nothing was ever good enough for him. This life is what I’m good at, finally.”
He paused for a moment. This was the part of his history he’d detached himself from a long time ago. Talking about it now made him feel raw, open. Hell, everything about Cassandra opened him up. But he wouldn’t fight it now. “When my mother died I was ten. He never got over it. He was angry. Even worse when he drank. At fifteen I left, came to Robert. He took me traveling with him, to Italy to see our family there, to London, to Switzerland. We spent my eighteenth birthday in Paris. That’s when he first showed me. We went to a club there, a small, private place, where I saw a woman bound and spanked on a stage. I’d never seen anything like it. I loved it immediately. Less than a year later I had my first slave.”
“Oh.” She turned away, but he could see the color rising in her cheeks.
He reached over, took her chin in his hand and forced her to face him. “Don’t worry, Cassandra. She’s long gone. Right now I’m only interested in you.”
“But why?” Her eyes burned. With anger? With passion?
He let his hand fall away. “It’s something I feel on a very subtle level, except when the chemistry is hitting me like a blow to the chest. When I can smell your scent. When I’m close enough that I can feel the warmth of your breath. When you are naked beneath my hands. But I feel it just sitting here, talking with you, too.”
Her pupils grew as he spoke until they were so large and dark, the green of her eyes was obscured, like a lunar eclipse. She was shivering faintly all over. His groin tightened along with his chest.
“Why are you here?” he asked quietly.
“Because I couldn’t stay away. Because of all the same things you’ve talked about: the chemistry, the inexplicable connection between us, the need to be together.”
“I wanted for us to talk. I pictured the two of us sitting here together, being very civilized.” He brushed her hair from her face. It was like dark, gilded silk in his fingers. “There is nothing civilized about what I’m feeling right now. I’m bending the rules, having you here with me like this.”
She nodded. “I know.”
“But I can’t seem to care. Betraying my uncle seems less important than being with you, which is awful, really. I understand that this is a risk for you, too. If this doesn’t feel right, you are free to go. I won’t make any demands of you. I won’t keep you here unless you want to be here. And you have to understand that even though you have not yet signed a full slave contract with my uncle, you are his right now, until—if and when—he offers you the contract, to accept or refuse.” His heart was pounding, hammering in his chest. “You have to know that this is wrong of me. That I feel I’m taking advantage of you. It tortures me. But not as much as being apart from you does.”
“I understand. I want to be here.” Her eyes were locked on his. “Don’t ask me to leave. Please.”
There was strength in her voice. He knew she understood what they were doing. That was all he needed to know.
She waited to see what he would say, her blood hot in her veins, her head spinning. Yet at the center was a well of utter calm. She knew this was right, being here with him.
But he didn’t say anything. He sat and looked at her, silent, brooding. A thousand emotions flitted through the depths of his whiskey brown eyes, but they moved too fast for her to read them. She waited, almost holding her breath. She let it out on a long sigh when he moved in slowly to kiss her.
She expected a tentative kiss, but there was nothing tentative about it. He crushed his mouth to hers, opened her lips, slid his tongue inside. She opened for him, almost wanted to cry again. Why did this man bring up so many emotions in her? Then his arms went around her, pressing her in close to his body, and she stopped analyzing everything.
The kiss was deep, feral, and she felt it all. Warmth suffused her; desire lanced through her system. She wanted to be naked with him, could hardly stand to have clothing between them.
He angled his head, deepened the kiss even more. His hands came up, cupped her cheeks, holding her so tightly it almost hurt. She didn’t care. All she knew was that despite the social constraints, the logical reasons why she couldn’t possibly feel so much for him, this was right.
His hands were everywhere, roaming her body, exploring every curve. His palms against her breasts with the cloth of her blouse between them was unendurable.
“Marcus, please…”
He seemed to know what she was asking for. He unbuttoned her blouse, stripped it from her shoulders. Her skirt came next; she didn’t even know how he managed it, exactly. All that was left were her stockings and heels. His hands found her naked breasts, covered them, caressed, pinched. Then he replaced his hands with his hot, wet mouth and she thought she’d lose her mind.
She moaned when he drew one nipple into his mouth, his swirling tongue sending ripples of desire through her body, bringing gooseflesh up on her skin.
“God, you taste like candy, so sweet.”
He pulled away and she thought he might begin to play her, to use pain to excite her. But he caught her gaze and stared into her eyes. His were a dark, stormy brown, the gold washed away by lust, by emotion. She was desperate for him to kiss her again, to drink in everything he was feeling. To feed her own emotions with his.
“Cassandra…” He was nearly panting, his voice rough. “All I want right now is to touch you, to make love to you. I don’t need the rough play. I just need you.”
“Yes, I don’t care about the
rest of it now.”
He stroked a finger over her cheek, her lips, before letting her go long enough to strip off his clothes. As each piece of clothing came off, his body was revealed to her for the first time. He was even more beautiful than she’d imagined. His skin was a dark golden brown, a sprinkling of hair on his chest, denser around the dusky nipples. Muscle rippled in his broad shoulders, his chest, his abdomen. Finally his slacks followed, and she saw his gorgeous erection, full and heavy, the skin beautifully textured. She could hardly wait to touch it, to have him inside her body. She reached for him and he came to her, pushing her down onto the couch.
He kissed her mouth, her chin, moved lower to rain kisses over her aching breasts, her stomach.
“I’ve been waiting to taste you from that first moment,” he murmured, before moving even lower to spread her thighs and brush his lips against her curls.
When his tongue flicked out at the tip of her clit her hips came up off the cushions. He used his hands to press her down, exerting just enough control to feed that need in her to be dominated.
He went to work right away, using his tongue and his hands, stroking her clit, his fingers driving inside her. Her sex swelled, pleasure flowing through her, into her limbs, her mind. He was doing the most incredible things to her body, and knowing it was him, Marcus, made it even better.
When he began to suck on her clit in earnest, all the while moving his fingers inside her, her climax came fast and hard, shattering her, making her call his name. And when it was over he moved up her body to kiss her mouth, soft kisses, over and over. Still shaking from her climax, she was a jumbled mass of desire and need and the blossoming of love.
“I need you inside me. I need to feel you that close to me.”
“Yes, now, Cassandra.”
He held his body over her, supporting his weight with his arms. She could feel the heat of him before he lowered himself, slipped between her thighs. The head of his magnificent cock nudged at her opening, and already pleasure was shooting through her. She looked up into his face. God, he was almost too beautiful to bear. But she couldn’t pull her gaze away. His expression was intense, his eyes dark liquid. She wrapped her arms around his neck, watching his face as he entered her, one torturous inch at a time. And every inch was sheer pleasure, making her body soar higher and higher.
