Authors: Raven McAllan
The door flew open back on its hinges with such a thud, he
jumped. Deborah seemed unaware of it.
Luc rushed in, his face worried, his breath short, uneven
pants. "
Merde,
I did not warn
you." He stopped short, and his eyes narrowed.
Without stopping the soft massage, Oliver threw the cover
across Deborah. Luc may have seen her naked before, but no longer. Now he would
be the only one to see her thus, unless … He tamped down the thought, it was
not to be examined. "You knew she would act thus and did not warn
me?"
The younger man colored and dropped his eyes.
Submissive?
Why did I not see that?
"Well? You will answer me."
"Yes, Sir, I was about to explain when I was detained.
I tried to find you. No one was prepared to grant me access to you. Then..."
He flung his arm out in a somewhat theatrical gesture. From anyone else it
would have looked stupid. From Luc, it looked normal. Not for the first time,
Oliver wondered about the other man's orientation.
"Then?"
Luc gulped. His skin was pale, and his pulse showed erratic
in his neck. He lifted his eyes to Oliver, and Oliver recognized the entreaty
there.
"Then I heard her. I had no idea where she was. I just
knew she would react so. And if it was not for me to comfort her, then you
needed to be aware.
My lord, 'tis ever thus after we finish a
series of displays.
She holds it all together and then, once we are
finished, she allows herself to remember and crumble."
"Remember?"
Luc met his gaze; his eyes were smoky, worried, and dull. "I
know not all. I was not with her when she was a small child. My parents,
suffice to say, told me little. My lord, even what I do know, it is not my
story to tell. I beg of you do not make me."
Oliver stared until Luc once more bent his head.
I wonder if he would assume
the
position?
However it was not up to him to find
out. The only sub he wanted was Deborah.
"I will look after her, Dalmain. Tomorrow we leave for
Cammerling
. Once we are settled you will be welcome to
visit. She…" He hesitated. It was not in his nature to open up to anyone,
especially one clearly not interested in him as a man. "She is the part of
me I have been missing all my life.
My future.
I can
but hope I am hers."
Luc shook his head and Oliver's heart plummeted. His skin
became clammy, and a roaring noise filled his ears. He had to be.
"My lord, give her space. Let her come to you in her
own good time. Let her discover her past before she decides her future. Then I
will visit with a glad heart."
The roaring subsided. Whether he liked it or not, what Luc
said made perfect sense.
"You better." Deborah's voice was weak, but the
thought was not. "I need you, my almost brother." She pulled away
from Oliver. He felt the lack of contact, as if someone had stripped him of a
layer of skin, exposed and cold. As Deborah struggled to sit, the bedspread
slipped, and her pale skin was exposed.
"Cover yourself." The harsh words were out before
he could stop them. Immediately he wished he could take them back.
Her eyes widened, and her lips trembled.
Next to the bed, Luc's hands clenched and unclenched, their knuckles
white against his tanned skin.
"My love, my apologies, I sounded harsh." He
tucked the coverlet around her, and once more tucked her close to him. The soft
camaraderie of earlier was missing. She held herself stiff against his side.
The only point in his favor was that she didn't pull away. How could he redeem
himself? "I have to learn how to be in a relationship," he said in a
rueful voice. "My social skills are perhaps lacking."
"No perhaps, my lord."
Neither Luc's words nor his tone
was polite, gone was the submissive from moments before. In his place was a tiger
defending his cubs. "I tell you now, if you do not treat Deborah as you
should, you will answer to me somehow. And I do not mean treat her as a subservient.
She is not."
No servant, but mine to serve?
"I will treat her as my lady should be treated.
With respect, kindness, and love."
"If he gets the chance."
Deborah's voice was laced
with humor. She stood up and took the sheets with her, wrapping them around her
body like a toga.
Oliver watched in amusement as hampered by the linens, she
took tiny mincing steps across the room.
Toward Luc.
As she reached him, she turned to look over her shoulder at
Oliver. "This you
understand,
is a kiss to a
brother not a lover, although I love him as much as any human can love another."
She kissed Luc on the cheek and for a brief second rested her head on his
shoulder. Luc stroked her hair.
Oliver's gut clenched. He felt lost and alone with no one to
care for him. The realization was like a bullet to his heart.
"It will work out. Go and find your lover, Luc. He is
waiting, somewhere." With one last kiss, she turned and walked back to the
bed.
Luc tightened his lips and with a curt nod to Oliver, turned
on his heels and left the room. The soft decisive click, as the door shut,
showed more than anything how he controlled himself.
"Poor Luc.
He has watched over me, cared
for me for so long, to the detriment of his own life. Perhaps now he will find
it once more and be the man he should be, not the man he pretends."
It was an interesting choice of words. Oliver chose to query
them. "So which is pretense?
Your protector, dominant
and macho?
Or the submissive, looking for a
master?"
Deborah leant across him and began to nibble her way up his
arm.
Soft teasing pinpricks that rushed across his skin and
filled his body with a hot gush of arousal.
His cock, volatile whenever
Deborah was near, reacted with a predictability that in any other circumstance
would amuse him. Now, all he hoped was that the copious amount of pre cum he
felt on the tip, which would slowly trace a path along his length, would not
scare her.
The nibbles stopped and she turned her head to one side to
look him in the eyes. Hers were wide open; clear and candid. Why did he therefore
feel he was on a cliff edge, where one false word would send him toppling into
oblivion?
"Do we not all wear masks at one time or another, my
lord?" No investing of his dominant title this time, he noted.
"To suit our situation.
Until..." She stopped and his
body jerked in an arc from the bed. A soft cocoon of velvet warmth surrounded
the head of his cock as she took him into her mouth.
And
sucked.
It took all of his determination not to surge into her, to
take her hair and twist it between his fingers and demand she take him deeper
and harder until he spilled. "Ahh, Deborah, do you
know
what you are doing to me?"
To his annoyance his words lifted her from him and she sat
back on her knees with a curse. "I am doing it wrongly? Oh, My Lord, I am
sorry. I wanted… I wanted…" Her voice shook and tears misted her eyes.
He didn't let her finish her sentence. Oliver followed his
instinct and tangled his hand in her hair, drawing her toward him once more. He
pressed slightly on her crown, forcing her to bend toward his cock again. "You
wanted. I want.
My cock.
Back in that sweet mouth
again.
Now."
****
He does? He wants me to taste
him, to drink him dry? I want him; I want to be whole. This is my chance.
The pressure on her head was
gentle but persistent. Oliver was still, not speaking, just waiting for her to
make her decision. Why was she hesitating? One look at him and Deborah had seen
the man beneath the persona. He held the key to unlocking her fears and
nightmares. Had she not slept in his arms? Not felt the need to be free? Her
nightmare had scarce begun before he banished it.
As her pulse jumped, her body sang with the need to feel him
inside her.
To have his cock surging hard and fast as he
filled her and came inside her.
At that thought, her cunt clenched and
her juices gathered at the entrance to slowly slide and coat her thighs.
The nerves in the entrance to her channel quivered and beat
erratically as she formulated her reply.
She shivered as her skin tingled with the thoughts of him
eating her quim, tonguing her, and tracing her body with his mouth.
If only…
It is now, or it will be
never. I have waited so long, what are a few more months? Can I not have my
moment first?
"As I was saying, My Lord."
Now she deferred to him as
her dominant. "We all wear masks at some time or another. This is no
longer my time. I am ready to open myself to you. Please, Sir, I am
yours."
The silence was heavy. Somewhere she heard the tick of a
clock; each beat was in time with the thud of her heart.
Just as she wanted to scream, her hair was tugged. She
lifted her head to look at him.
"Then we need to talk, make ground rules. It is early
but perhaps we should leave for
Cammerling
?"
Deborah took a deep breath. "If it pleases you, Sir,
then that is what we should do."
"Why then do I have the feeling you don't agree?"
His voice was laced with humor. "Tell me, love. Remember open and
truthful."
"Then may we stop here?
In this
house?
I … I want to allay some of my fears here." Would he
understand?
"In
In my
apartments?
Be very sure, love. It will not be in this bland, vanilla
room. It will be next door, where it is more to my liking. Are you ready to
trust me so far?"
Damn.
She had steeled herself to
the thought of that bed and the leather and silk ties at each corner. Deborah
was not naïve enough to think it was all he used and enjoyed. Stories they had
heard, even before they had received a coveted invitation to perform at the
house on
had confirmed that. However it seemed somewhat more than a leap of faith was
needed. Perhaps a drop from a hot air balloon, such as she had seen over
Whatever she did, Deborah was certain Oliver would catch her. Whether, once he
knew all her secrets he would drop her, remained to be seen. From what she had
seen she thought it unlikely.
Her body throbbed with the thought that soon she might perhaps
banish the fear, the uncertainty, and the hatred from within.
"It has to be. I have so much to admit, some I scarce
understand myself. But first, I know my safe word. I trust you will heed my
innocence and I, I, want to start my new life in the place the old one ends.
Please, My Lord?"
Chapter Seven
"Go through the door on the right. Wait by the bed. No,
you need no covers. When we are together like this, there is no need for
clothes. Your body is mine, my body is yours. We will be open. You will not
speak until I join you, then … then my love we will see."
He didn't say just what they would see. A hundred
butterflies took up residence in her tummy, and a tribe of spiders crawled over
her skin, sending every hair on end. Sure her heartbeat could be heard in the
street below, Deborah hesitated before she straightened and put first one leg,
and then the other onto the carpeted floor. The thick pile caressed her bare
feet like a soft flail. She nodded.
It felt strange walking away from him, knowing her every
move was watched and monitored. As she reached for the door latch his voice
reached her.
"You are sure? Answer me."
Oh for goodness sake. Is he
trying to dissuade me?
"I'm sure." Deborah didn't wait to hear his
response; she lifted the latch, the snick as it moved over the bar sounded loud
in the quiet.
Her feet made no noise on the floor as she moved forward.
The sight in front of her brought a ringing in her ears, and she swallowed
rapidly to dispel the nausea rising inside her. Could she go through with this?
If she faltered now, that would be it.
It
would be over.
She
grit
her teeth and stepped toward
the bed. No ornate coverlets there, a plain linen sheet, pillows high at one
end,
and again leather and silk ties at each corner. It was
the elaborate display of knives down one wall, and the ornate
criss
-cross of ties over the bed that had her once more tamping
down her terror. Pictures flashed through her mind, hazy half formed … frightening.