Fourteen
Jane parked in front of Marcus’s house. He hadn’t invited her over, and she hadn’t called ahead. This was an unannounced visit, and like the anxious woman she’d become, she’d packed an overnight bag and stuffed it in her trunk.
It wasn’t as if she didn’t have a right to stay with him. But she was appalled at herself for wanting to see him so badly.
The cage in his dungeon was driving her crazy.
It was bad enough that he might be a frigging demon, but did she have to obsess about being imprisoned by him, too?
Maybe this wasn’t her fault. Maybe he really had been hypnotizing her this whole time. Maybe he’d even planted the suggestion of her coming over tonight.
Keeping the blame on him, she got out of the car and walked up to his front door. She rang the bell and waited.
When he answered, she was surprised by his appearance. Although his hair was banded into its usual ponytail and his contacts lenses were in place, he was casually attired. No black garb or heavy black boots.
If he’d been expecting her, wouldn’t he be more prepared? Wouldn’t he have made a more dom-like presentation?
“Hey,” he said. “What’s going on?”
She wasn’t about to respond with something silly, like she just happened to be in the neighborhood, so she said, “I was in the mood to see you.”
He invited her into the house, but he didn’t react in a sexual way, and she wondered how she was supposed to manipulate the situation to suit her needs.
“Would you like a soda?” he asked. “Or some juice?”
“Juice sounds good.” Simply to get near the kitchen where the dungeon door was.
She followed him to the fridge, and he opened it.
“Is pineapple okay?”
She nodded, and he poured her a glass. He got one for himself, too. But before he could steer her back to the living room, she walked over to the dining table and sat down. It was just a hop, skip, and a jump from where she wanted to be.
He sat across from her. “I know why you’re here.”
“You do?”
“Yes, and I don’t want to play tonight.”
Damn him. “Why not?”
“I just don’t.”
“You can show up at my house in the middle of the night and force me to my knees, but I can’t get a little action when I need it?” She stood up. “Screw you, Marcus.”
“Tonight is the anniversary of my parents’ murders.”
Stunned, she sat back down. “I’m so sorry.” He’d barely talked about himself, and now he was ripping the bandage off of a gnashing wound. The memory in his voice was painfully evident.
“It was a carjacking.” He released a laden breath and his chest rose and fell with the effort. “Dad was taking Mom out for a celebratory dinner. She was a newly licensed real estate agent, and she’d just sold her first house.”
Her heart went out to him. “How old were you when it happened?”
“Fifteen. They were the most amazing people. Kind, loving, affectionate. They were all I had.” He cleared his throat, then drank some juice.
She suspected that his mouth had gone dry. Hers certainly had.
He continued, “There wasn’t anyone to take me in, so I became a ward of the state. I hated every single foster home I was in. That’s why I ran away, and that’s how I met Jake and Damien. They’re my family now. I love them like brothers.”
She thought about how deeply the men were protecting each other. “And they love you in the same way.”
“We would die for each other if it came down to that.”
Fear crawled up her spine, twisting around her vertebrae like a dark red vine. “Is it going to come down to that?”
He didn’t respond, increasing her fear.
“Are you trying to scare me?” she asked.
In an unexpected show of affection, he reached across the table for her hand. “I was just making a point.”
Their fingertips brushed. “So no one is going to die?”
“Everyone dies someday.”
“Immortals don’t.”
“Some do.”
“How do demons die?”
“It depends on how powerful they are.” He locked his fingers with hers, creating a stronger connection. “But I don’t want to talk about death anymore. I’ve seen enough of it to last a lifetime.”
No one close to Jane had ever died. She didn’t know that kind of pain, and she didn’t want to know it. She came from a big family, and all of them were still in Cincinnati, where she was born.
She gazed quietly at her lover. He’d told her more about himself than she’d expected to hear, and that made her feel closer to him.
Far closer than she should.
He asked her to stay with him, and she readily agreed. He wanted to turn in early, and she understood why. It was obvious he was beat. She was, too. Emotionally, she was spent. This night had turned out far different than she’d planned.
She went out to the car to retrieve her bag, and a short time later, they were nestled in bed. His room was as organized as the rest of the house, and it was completely devoid of anything related to BDSM.
He turned out the light and reached for her, and she put her head in the crook of his arm. She closed her eyes. She’d forgotten all about the cage. But in the morning, her interest in it was renewed.
At first light, Marcus woke her up and led her straight to his basement.
Down the stairs they went, with Jane’s nightshirt grazing her knees and her hair mussed from sleep. Marcus, on the other hand, was as sharp as a paper cut. While she’d been crashed out, he’d showered, shaved, and donned his signature black clothes and intimidating black boots. He looked every bit the master.
Once they were in the dungeon, he said, “I haven’t decided what I should do to you.”
Submissive excitement swirled through her blood. If he knew why she’d showed up last night, then he must be aware of her cage craving.
While her anticipation mounted, he went over to the trunk that contained his toys. He crouched down and opened the lid. From where she stood, she couldn’t see what types of items were inside, but she could tell that he was examining the contents with a critical eye. She didn’t doubt that each toy was carefully wrapped and properly stored. Marcus wouldn’t throw them haphazardly in a trunk.
He held up an anatomically designed dildo. “What do you think of this?”
“It’s impressive.” About the same length and girth as his cock, with a bulging head, veined texture, and hefty balls. “But I’d prefer to have you inside me.”
“This is battery operated. It rotates and vibrates.”
“But your body feels warm next to mine, and you haven’t been inside me yet.” Of all the things he’d done to her, intercourse wasn’t one of them.
“You make getting fucked by your dom sound romantic.” She clarified her statement. “That isn’t how I meant it.” She tugged on her nightshirt. Suddenly she was nervous. “I kept the origami heart you gave me, though.”
“Damien taught me how to make those. I can make all sorts of things.” He put the dildo away and closed the trunk. “Even paper penises that slide up and down.”
“Maybe next time you can give me one of those.”
“Maybe I will.” He stood up. “But we’re getting off track.”
She gazed at his empty hands. “You didn’t get a toy.”
“I’m going to lock you up first. Then you can’t misbehave or distract me.” Without further instruction, he came toward her and motioned to the cage.
Much too eager, she got down on the floor, opened the metal door, and crawled into the space. Although it was shallow and she had to stay on her knees or lie down, it was actually wide enough for two people. Two subs, she thought, with a territorial frown.
He bent down and closed the door. He put a padlock on it, too. After he resumed his stance, she peered out from the bars and gazed at his booted feet.
He disappeared from sight, and she heard him moving about the dungeon. Then everything went quiet. Was he back at the trunk?
Yes, he was. The hinges squealed as he opened the lid. She listened for evidence of what he’d picked, but it was impossible to tell. Soon he was striding up and down the length of the cage.
“I chose three toys,” he said, as if he’d read her curious mind. He lowered a sleek black whip and ran it along the bars, revealing the first item.
Goose bumps scattered along her skin. Her fantasy had taken on a life of its own. He was like a lion tamer in the throes of his job.
“I could leave you in there all day,” he said. “I could tease you for hours.”
No, he couldn’t, not if she used one of the safe words. But they both knew that she wasn’t going to stop him.
Insanely aroused, she gazed at the whip as it passed.
“Take off your clothes, Jane.”
Although it was difficult to undress in a prone position, she did as she was told, peeling off her panties and tugging her nightshirt over her head.
“Now close your eyes and no matter what happens, don’t open them.”
She obeyed his command, and while she lay there in the dark, he continued to walk the length of the cage, the sound of his footsteps intensifying.
Then he stopped.
And cracked the whip on the ground.
She flinched something fierce, but she kept her eyes squeezed tight. In the next bout of silence, she counted the beats of her heart.
He didn’t crack the whip again. But he clanked something against the bars, creating a steel-against-steel noise.
The second toy?
A few moments later, she heard him unlocking the cage and swinging open the door.
“Don’t move,” he said.
Jane went motionless. She sensed him crawling toward her, and she yearned for his nearness.
He straddled her, then snapped circular objects around her wrists and locked her to the sides of the cage.
Handcuffs.
A silky blindfold came next, signaling the third toy and shutting out the light behind her still-closed eyes. Everything went pitch-black.
His body was heavy against hers, and his clothes scratched her nakedness, but he was the perfect master. His mouth sought hers, and he kissed her. Jane was glad the cage was big enough for two people.
“Do you still want me inside you?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“It’s not going to be romantic.”
“I already told you that I don’t care about that.”
In the next instant, Jane became aware of the motion of his hand on his fly and his pants being pushed down. She heard the tearing of the condom packet, too.
He nudged her legs open, slid between them, and entered her hard and deep. She lifted her hips to greet his penetration. As he moved, the handcuffs scraped against her wrists. They weren’t padded and neither was the floor. She clenched her bare ass with every thrust.
She was getting fucked by her dom, and it spite of how non-romantic it was supposed to be, it was the most beautiful sex she’d ever had.
Alone in her apartment, Emily considered everything that was going on. Jane and Suzanne had told her about their recent encounters with Marcus and Jake. The most surprising information was the details about Marcus’s family. Of course Emily felt for him because she’d lost her parents, too.
But at the moment, her biggest concern was Damien. She’d called him earlier and invited him to come over, and now she was waiting for him to arrive. But she’d already warned him that this wasn’t about sex. She’d asked him to attend a local craft fair with her. She wasn’t sure what she was trying to accomplish, other than a neurotic attempt to manufacture a seemingly normal date.
Fussing over her appearance, she checked her reflection in the bathroom mirror. She looked like her wholesome self. Considering Damien’s attraction to her innocence, she didn’t know if that was good or bad.
The doorbell rang and she dashed off to answer it, her stomach twisting into a nervous knot.
She flung open the door, and her gaze locked with Damien’s for what seemed like an exaggerated amount of time. After he entered the living room, he kissed her softly on the lips. If there was a demon inside him, it was masking itself far too well.
They separated, and before she had the chance to show him around, he wandered over to the electric fireplace, a freestanding unit she’d purchased to make her apartment seem homier.
She followed him, and he focused on the mantel, which held a collection of photographs.
“Is this you?” he asked.
She nodded. “That’s my first-grade picture. I’d just started losing my baby teeth.”
He didn’t comment, but he seemed fascinated by her gap-toothed smile. The next framed image was taken about a year later.
He studied it with an intense expression. “You look like a miniature bride here.”
The observation made her uncomfortable coming from him. She wished she’d had the foresight to hide the picture before he’d shown up. “It was my First Holy Communion. White dresses are a symbol of purity, and the veil is a traditional head covering.” She thought about the chalices he used that looked like communion cups, then added, “Receiving the body and blood of Christ is called the Sacrament of the Eucharist, and we’re supposed to be without sin and in a state of grace to receive it.”
“I know what the Eucharist is.” He turned toward her. “But no one is without sin, Emily.”
She responded quickly, “Catholics go to confession, but we have to be truly sorry for our sins.”
“Have you been confessing your affair with me?”
How could she confess something that she continued to repeat, that she couldn’t find the will to resist? “I’ve been praying that this doesn’t turn out badly.”
“I’ve never prayed, but I’ve heard Marcus and Jake pray. When the demon was conjured and it unleashed its fury, they begged God for someone to save them.”
Emily stared at him. Was he the boy the creature had found most susceptible? The one who hadn’t asked God for help?
He returned to the pictures. “Are these your parents? They look like nice people.”
His abrupt change of topic wrenched her heart. “They were. I loved them very much.”
“Marcus loved his parents, too. Did Jane tell you that he mentioned them to her?”
“Yes, she did.” Emily’s heart wrenched a little tighter. Her parents had been killed in a car accident and Marcus’s had been victims of a carjacking. “You’ve never spoken about your family, Damien.”
“Marcus and Jake are my family.”
She was talking about his birth family, but he’d evaded the reference. For all she knew, his childhood was worse than Jake’s or Suzanne’s. Was that why he’d never learned to pray?
“Should we go now?” he asked.
She’d almost forgotten about their outing. But she cleared her thoughts, and they left the house.
The craft fair was being held at the same park in her neighborhood where she and Damien had shared the picnic bench and where he’d told her the details about the magic spells.
Details that she no longer believed were accurate.
As they strolled along the grassy aisles, they wandered in and out of booths. The crafts included jewelry, candles, woodwork, and bath and body products.
When they came across a vendor who sold paper goods, Emily noticed a greeting card collection that depicted angels. Some were cherubs and some were archangels. But the card that caught her attention had a guardian on it. He had a youthful presence, like a teenage boy, but stronger. He was tall and muscular with enormous wings and a plate of armor. In his hand, he carried a steel sword.
Mesmerized, she reached for the card. “Look, Damien, this is the type of angel you and your friends tried to summon.” She remembered him describing a similar image. Still fixated, she examined it closer. Although the warrior was enveloped in a cloudy white mist and his features were barely visible, he had wavy dark hair, remarkably similar to Damien’s. “He actually looks like a younger version of you.”
“He does not.”
She held it toward him. “Yes, he does.”
She glanced up and saw that he’d taken a step back, away from her, away from the guardian.
“I’m not an angel,” he said. “Nor have I ever been one.”
She snapped out of her trance. “I didn’t say you were.” A celestial being wouldn’t be masquerading as a demon, and no matter how beautiful Damien was or how angelic his appearance was, she knew better than to think he was from heaven.
Nonetheless, she challenged him. “If angels disturb you so much, why did you participate in trying to summon one?”
“They don’t disturb me. I just don’t think it looks like me.” Yes, it did. And the more she thought about it, the more it troubled her. He’d never even said a prayer, yet he resembled a servant of God. Then again, it wasn’t a real guardian and wasn’t as if Damien had painted it. Surely he would have admitted if it was some sort of twisted self-portrait. She turned it over just to be sure.
“You’re not going to buy that, are you?”
“No.” She returned the card to its rack. He wasn’t the artist.
The rest of their date continued in an awkward vein, and by the time they returned to her apartment, her emotional shape worsened.
Damien spoke upon entering the door. “I’m sorry, Emily.”
“For what?”
“Spoiling your day.”
“It wasn’t your fault. It’s just something that happened.”
Offering comfort, he wrapped her in his arms, and the warmth of his body made everything seem all right, even if she knew it wasn’t. She should end their affair. She should send him far, far away. But she did the opposite and led him to her room.
Sex wasn’t supposed to be part of the equation, at least not today, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself from wanting him.
“Why do you keep doing this to me?” she asked.
“Doing what?”
“Tempting me.”
He produced a condom from his pocket. “Maybe it’s you who is tempting me.”
Was she too mixed up to know the difference?
He peeled his T-shirt over his head, and she followed suit and unbuttoned her blouse. One by one, they removed articles of their clothing and discarded them.
Naked and aroused, he eased her onto the bed and roamed her flesh as if he were mapping it. Every touch was fresh and new and beautifully frightening. If she’d been falling in love with him before, she was in serious trouble now.
He used the condom, but sheathing his penis wasn’t enough. Emily needed protection from his aura.
Daylight illuminated the room, and as he entered her, a warm glow surrounded him. It created a halo-type effect.
Making him look even more like the angel he wasn’t.