Eight
The patio yielded Emily’s herbs. Some bloomed in clay pots and others grew in wire baskets. Mostly she used them for cooking, but sometimes she brewed fragrant teas. Whether it was a warm summer day or a cool winter night, this was her favorite spot in her apartment.
On this lazy afternoon, she rocked in a weathered canopy swing that had belonged to her maternal grandmother, the religious woman who raised her after her parents had died. Grandma was gone now, too. The closest thing Emily had to family was her two best friends.
At the moment, they sat at a glass-topped table across from her, chattering like magpies about their budding affairs.
According to their graphic discussion, Suzanne had put her hand down Jake’s pants during their dinner date, and last night Jane had allowed Marcus to bind and gag her.
“I’m the only decent one here,” Emily said, interrupting their sexual ravings.
They turned simultaneously to look at her, and she wanted to bite back the words. Her decency was a façade, because no matter how she sliced it, she was envious of her friends. At least they had the guts to pursue the men who intrigued them.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I’m just . . .”
“Conflicted over Damien?” Jane provided.
Emily nodded and glanced around at the plants. Her grandma had taught her about gardening. Grandma had grown all sorts of herbs, but she’d avoided the botanical known as devil’s claw, even if it had good medicinal properties.
“You should call him, Auntie Em,” Suzanne said. “You should go for it.”
“I agree.” Jane tucked a strand of auburn hair behind her ear. “I’m nervous about seeing Marcus again, but I’m excited, too. Experimenting with his lifestyle is the most thrilling thing that’s ever happened to me.”
“Ditto,” the fashion designer said. “About doing dirty things with Jake.”
Jane spoke again. “Marcus thinks that all of us were destined to meet. At first it bothered me when he said it, especially since I never really believed in fate. But now I’m wondering if he could be right.” She leaned forward. “I’m not saying that we’re destined to marry them or anything like that. But maybe they’re meant to awaken our desires.”
“But we hardly know anything about them,” Emily said.
Suzanne responded, “Are you still worried about the demon thing? I already told you that Jake explained the theory behind the rumors.”
“I know, but that only makes the rumors sound more believable to me. The demonic association with the number three. Three men portraying demons at a sex club. Those same three men wearing dark contacts lenses all the time, even though they know it fuels the rumor. What about the expression that eyes are the windows to the soul? If that’s true, then they could be hiding their souls.”
Suzanne restated her case. “Think about how compelling black eyes make a hypnotist look. Or how they create a mystical aura around an artist who paints supernatural scenes. Or a studio musician who writes sexy and Gothic songs that he keeps to himself. It’s a gimmick that works, and I don’t blame them for keeping it going.”
Jane added her two cents. “Not only do those dark eyes enhance Marcus’s hypnotic appeal, they make him a more powerful-looking master, too. Personally, I think it’s kind of hot that he wears them all the time.”
“And I still think that one of them could be a demon,” Emily said, struggling with her superstitions.
No matter how badly she wanted to be with Damien, she just couldn’t bring herself to do it.
In the pitch-black of night, Jane tossed and turned. She glanced at the alarm clock beside her bed and checked the time: 1:59.
Why was she so restless? She wasn’t an insomniac. Normally sleep came easier to her. In fact, she could crash out just about anywhere.
She glanced at the clock again. Now it was two on the dot. Thank goodness it wasn’t three. In spite of being a non-demon believer, she didn’t want to think about that number.
Getting goose-bumpy, Jane turned on the lamp. For someone who scoffed at the occult, she had a case of the heebie-jeebies.
She decided to get out of bed, but once she was up, she wasn’t sure what she was going to do. Watch TV? Play on the Internet? Work on the Aeonian article?
Whichever activity she chose, the living room was where her TV and computer were located. As she headed in that direction, her goose bumps got worse.
Just as she flipped on the main light switch, the doorbell rang and she nearly jumped out of her skin.
She crept over to the peephole and looked out. It was Marcus.
Good God. He rang again. If she hadn’t already been up, his persistence would have awakened her. She couldn’t very well pretend that he wasn’t here. She wanted to know what he was trying to pull at this time of night.
She flung open the door.
As usual, he was cloaked in a long-tailed jacket and his shiny black hair was tied back in a ponytail, making his features more prominent.
“Hello, Lady Jane,” he said, calm as you please.
She wasn’t nearly as calm. “What are you doing here?”
“I had an urge to see you.”
And she’d been tossing and turning before he’d appeared. A moment of confusion came over her. Could this be a dream? Just to be sure that she wasn’t in the midst of a nightmare and he wasn’t a fear-induced illusion, she pushed against his shoulder. He was flesh and bone, all right.
Very real.
She asked, “How did you get my address? I never gave it to you, and I’m not listed.”
“Being listed doesn’t matter these days. Not with the invention of the Internet.” A teasing smile quirked one corner of his lips. “Surely you’ve heard of it.”
“Ha-ha.” Her heart hadn’t quit pounding.
He looked her up and down. “That’s certainly a lovely outfit.”
She tugged on her big ratty T-shirt. She felt more vulnerable now than when she’d been naked, bound, and gagged. “I wasn’t expecting company.”
“Yes, but I’m here now, so invite me in.”
“What for?”
“So I can punish you. You know you’re anxious for it.”
At this hour? Looking the way she did? Her pride stung. “Go home, Marcus. I don’t want to be your sub anymore.”
“Yes, you do.” He reached out and skimmed her cheek. “Come on, Lady Jane. Be good for me.”
Did he have to be so persuasive? And did his touch have to make her ache? Like the dumbest, most submissive woman on earth, she allowed him into her house.
He didn’t waste a bit of time. In the next take-charge instant he removed his jacket, draping it meticulously over a chair. He also divested himself of his shirt, handling it in the same tidy manner. He left his pants in place, but she could tell that he planned to unzip them when he was good and ready.
He’d been threatening to make her call him “sir” before he pushed his cock into her mouth, but she’d never imagined it happening in her living room in the middle of a sleep-deprived night.
Hell and damnation.
She was anxious to be punished, especially in the manner he had in mind.
When he said, “Get on your knees,” she dropped right down.
Triumph sounded in his voice. “You really are a good little sub, aren’t you.”
Eager to obey him and hating herself for it, she lowered her gaze and studied his stylish black boots. They were perfectly polished, but nothing about Marcus was scuffed.
He said, “Tell me why you deserve this. Tell me in a way that makes my cock hard.”
She suspected that he was already hard, but she didn’t dare sneak a peek at his fly, not until he gave her permission.
She responded, “When you were licking my clit and fucking me with your fingers, I disobeyed you and came when I wasn’t supposed to. But it felt so good, I couldn’t help it.”
“Are you ready for your punishment?”
Her pussy clenched beneath her panties. “Yes.”
“Then beg for it.”
Her breath hitched. “Please punish me.”
“Say it again.”
“Please,” she implored, wishing she didn’t mean it so much. “Please.”
“Look at me,” he said. “But only as far as my zipper.”
Eager to see his penis, she followed his command, and while he undid the top button on his pants, she actually wet her lips.
When he opened his fly and pulled out his cock, she almost swayed on her knees.
Marcus shoved his pants down farther. Then he said, “When this is over, I’m going to sleep beside you. I’m going to lie so damn close, you’re going to feel every breath I take.”
Jane didn’t want to think about him descending upon her bed, not while she was desperate to pleasure him.
“Look all the way up,” he told her.
She met his dark gaze.
He stared down at her and said, “Lick my balls. Rub your tongue all over them.”
Her skin tingled. “Should I keep looking up while I’m doing it?”
“Yes. And I’m going to keep looking down at you.”
She did exactly what was expected of her. She leaned forward, inhaled his wonderfully musky scent and lavished his balls, tasting each tender sac.
“Good. Now lick my cock.”
No matter how demanding he was, she was more than willing to serve him. As she gripped the base of his shaft, he made a sound of approval. The way he was staring at her made her feel pretty damn sexy. Her big ugly T-shirt didn’t matter anymore. She’d captured his dominant libido with a vengeance.
Doing what came naturally, she teased the tip of his penis with her tongue.
“More,” he said.
She licked the entire length, getting him all wet.
He tunneled his hands in her hair. “Call me ‘sir.’”
“Sir,” she whispered.
“Say it louder.”
“Sir.”
Marcus tightened his hold on her hair, and she knew it was a physical warning that he was going to thrust into her mouth.
He went for it, and since she was ready for him, she took him hard and deep, showing him how deliberately subservient she could be.
He moved his hips, and she bobbed her head, helping him enjoy the experience.
Even as his cock jabbed the back of her throat, their gazes remained locked. She’d never given a blow job this powerful, but he was different from her other lovers.
Like the masochist she’d become, she pressed her knees against the floor, trying to create pain. She couldn’t deny that she was as depraved as he was.
When her affair with him ended, would she go back to being normal? Or would she strip off her clothes and imagine herself in chains?
Shutting out her thoughts, Jane focused on giving him the best head of his life. He reacted by caressing her face. Roughly, gently, then roughly again, he traced the widely bowed shape of her lips, clearly excited by seeing his cock between them.
“When I come, you’re going to swallow it,” he said. “I’m going to fill up your mouth, and you’re going to savor every drop.”
It was an order she already intended to obey, but hearing him say it stirred a naughty ache between her legs.
She sucked harder, and as he got more aroused, the eye-to-eye connection grew stronger.
“You’re fucking amazing,” he said, his voice teetering between lust and affection.
Jane pushed him toward the madness, reveling in the signs of his pending ejaculation: the ragged pull of air into his lungs, the clenching of his abs.
Then, in the final moments, he resorted to tugging on her hair, separating it into two sections and using it like reins.
Would he whip her next time they were together?
Marcus thrust forward, and she braced herself for his release. He groaned low in his chest, and his milky fluid shot out.
In the silence that followed, they continued to stare at each other.
He stepped back and righted his pants. “I’m not going to dominate you any more tonight.”
The salty taste of him remained on her tongue. “Then you’re going home?”
“No. I’m sleeping in your bed. Beside you, like I said I would.”
To her that still sounded like domination. “What if I told you to leave? Would you go this time?”
“Yes. Why? Do you want me to go?”
“No.”
“Then why are we having this conversation?”
“I just wanted to check.”
“Are you ready?”
To crawl under the covers with him? “I’m going to get some water first.”
Jane went into the kitchen, and Marcus stayed in the living room. Regardless, she remained within his eye range, and she could feel him watching her. She filled a glass from the refrigerator water dispenser and drank it.
After she returned to him, they went into her room, where her tousled bed looked as if she’d kicked her way out of it.
“Were you having a rough night before I showed up?”
She was still having a rough night. She wished that she hadn’t enjoyed his punishment so dang much. Or that she wasn’t anxiety ridden about allowing him to spend the night.
He pulled off his boots, then shed his socks. After he removed his trousers, he pinched the creases.
She asked, “Why are you so fussy with your clothes when you tossed mine around in the playroom before you chained me up?”
“Because you’re the sub and I’m the dom.” He placed his neatly folded pants on her dresser and got into bed. “And if I ever make you do domestic chores for me, you’ll be prepared for how particular I am.”
Domestic chores? “I should kick you out right now.”
“Too late. I’m already settled in.”
She frowned, and he squinted back at her, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners. She didn’t question him about his removing his contact lenses. Obviously they were the kind that could be worn overnight; obviously he was protecting his mystique. She damned herself for thinking it was hot.
Jane didn’t get undressed, and he didn’t pressure her to get naked. He turned off the light and arranged their sleeping positions, putting his bared body right up against her clothed one. He put his arms around her, too.
Recalling what he’d said earlier about her feeling every breath he took, she squeezed her eyes shut.
But soon she relaxed and drifted off, oddly content in his arms.
Later that morning Jane awakened alone. She got up and searched the apartment, discovering that Marcus was gone. But he’d left a simple gift behind. On her computer desk was an origami heart he’d made from a piece of her inkjet paper.
She didn’t know what to think, but she tucked the token away in a drawer for safekeeping.
Then she sat down and got online, looking for information about Marcus. But all she came across was his erotic hypnosis website, which she was already aware of, along with a few blogs and BDSM forums that mentioned his name. Everything was connected to his work. She didn’t uncover anything that gave her more insight into the man behind the master.
Leaving her wondering who he really was.