CHAPTER 35

Angelina studied Micah over her glass of tea as they sat in the kitchen eating lunch. As angry as he’d been over her revelation, now it was like he was pretending it never happened. He’d certainly asserted his dominance. He and Cole had fucked her mercilessly in every way imaginable. Was that what it was all about? Trying to wipe away the fact that for a brief moment he’d been under her control, at her mercy?

She understood the male psyche was a fragile thing. It didn’t take much to bruise an ego. And for a man like Micah who was always in control and liked the women in his relationships to be completely submissive, it would be a definite sore point that something he deemed as a weakness had come to light.

She sighed. If only she could make him see that it didn’t make him weak. Only human.

“What are you looking at, Angel?”

She blinked and focused in to see him staring at her. She hesitated a moment and then took a deep breath.

“Do you trust me, Micah?”

His eyes narrowed. “Of course I trust you. What the hell kind of question is that?”

“I want you to prove it,” she said softly. “Tonight ... tonight is mine. One night where I call the shots.”

He shook his head. “That was not our agreement.”

“Stop being a coward,” she said bluntly. “Surely you’re man enough to grant a woman her fantasy.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Just what is your fantasy, Angel girl?”

“You’ll just have to see, won’t you? Do you agree? One night? Or are you scared?”

His eyes flashed and his lips tightened. “One night. Then this bullshit is over. Unless of course you’ve decided this isn’t working for you after all.”

There was a challenge in his tone as well, an ultimatum almost.

“One night is all I need.”

She hoped.


Angelina stood in the common room of The House and waited for Micah to appear. She was nervous, yes, but anticipation tightened every nerve ending. This was her chance to show Micah that trusting himself to another person didn’t mean a loss of control. Then maybe he’d understand why she’d done what she did at Mama Rose’s.

Micah shuffled in a few seconds later, hands shoved into his pockets, his expression locked in stone. He walked over to her and stood watching her for a moment.

“Okay, I’m here.”

“Strip,” she said.

His lips curled up in a half smile. “You have to know I’d get naked for you anytime, Angel girl. No need to go to this extreme.”

She watched him silently, waiting for him to comply. With no modesty, he quickly undressed and tossed his clothing aside. Then he stood to his full height, his stance challenging.

God, he was beautiful. All male. So solid. Strong.

“Over there,” she said gesturing to a taller beam than the one she’d been tied to. “Arms up.”

Again he complied, his expression almost one of boredom. But then he wouldn’t show anticipation. No, that would make him weak and it would make her right.

She had to use a chair to stand on in order to secure his wrists above his head. When she was done, she stood back and soaked in the image of this gorgeous man suddenly vulnerable before her.

He still looked dangerous. Caged, but still dangerous, like if she came to close, he’d pounce and devour. He wasn’t happy with the situation in the least, but he was keeping his word.

“You’re so beautiful,” she whispered as she came closer. She put out her hand to touch his chest and ran her fingers along the lines and contours, down to his flat abdomen and lower until her fingers tangled in the wiry hair between his legs.

She found his cock, long and at rest. The moment she touched him, it came alive in her palm, twitching and expanding in size.

Mesmerized, she stroked and petted over his hips, around to his firm buttocks and then up over the small of his back to the broad expanse of his shoulders. Here the muscles coiled and bulged tightly in response to his arms being stretched over his head.

Unable to resist, she pressed her lips to the center of his back and let them rest there for a long moment. He trembled beneath her lips despite his obvious effort to remain unaffected.

Finally she drew away and retrieved the whip she’d selected. She faced him, holding the leather in her hands.

“You like inflicting pain. I know it’s a turn-on for you. But you enjoy receiving it as well. Is it a weakness that I like the same pain, Micah? Am I weak and pathetic for acknowledging my desires?”

He shook his head. “Of course not. A woman who knows what she wants, who’s honest with herself and her partner, is a woman to be desired above all others.”

“Then why doesn’t the same apply to you?” she asked. “Why are you ashamed to admit your desires? Why do you think allowing me or anyone else to give you what you want makes you weak?”

He closed his eyes and turned his head away. When he looked back at her again, anger and frustration bubbled in his eyes.

“It’s not the same. I’m supposed to be the strong one. I’m supposed to take care of Hannah—you.”

Not responding, she circled him, remembering the last time she’d held the whip in her hands as she gazed at his tanned back. She remembered his soft plea not to go easy. He hadn’t known it was her, but he’d needed what she could give him. Now she would show him again.

She flicked her wrist, expertly sending the whip over his back. The crack was loud, echoing over the silence. He flinched as the red welt appeared as a diagonal slash across his flesh.

“Tell me how to please you,” she murmured as she stood to the side. “You see, Micah, you can still be in control. Tell me what you want. What you need.”

“Harder,” he said on a groan. “Cover my back. Leave your mark, Angel. Make it burn.”

She moved again and added an identical stripe just two inches lower than the last. His hands clenched and unclenched above him. The muscles in his arms bulged and rippled.

She worked down, leaving a row of neatly placed welts. She started light and added intensity with each additional lash. When she reached his ass, she worked back up, crossing the earlier marks until all lines were crossed, each one redder than the last.

“Harder,” he hissed.

Her brow furrowed in concentration because despite his command, she wouldn’t shred his skin. Tiny droplets of blood welled, beading the thin lines, but she held back. Never would she hurt him. Never would she go too far.

By the time she’d covered his back in an intricate design of crisscrossing marks, he was panting, his breaths coming long and hard. Sweat dripped from his face, and he hung his head as exhaustion crept over him.

She dropped the whip and walked around to face him. His head was lowered, but his eyes glowed with arousal, with excitement.

Her gaze went to his groin, and his cock pushed impatiently outward, stiff and erect. She fell to her knees and fisted it in her hands.

“Oh God, Angel,” he whispered when her mouth closed around him. “Don’t, baby. I’m too big, too hard this way. You can’t take me.”

Oh yes, he was aroused, and she was determined she’d take everything he had to give and more.

She relaxed her entire body, gripped his hips and eased him forward until he touched the back of her throat. She sucked in air through her nose and then forced him deeper, taking him all the way to the balls.

She fought the reflex to gag and focused her entire concentration on his pleasure. She eased back, letting him slide over her tongue until the head balanced delicately there. Holding him tight in her hand, she swirled her tongue around the flared edges, exploring the differing textures. Rough, smooth, puckered and silky.

He moaned softly when she took him all the way again. For a long moment she held them there, deep against her throat, until she was forced to relent and ease away again.

This time when she grasped him in her hand, she pulled her mouth away and tilted his cock up so she had access to the underside. She ran her tongue along the thick vein, following it down to his puckered sac.

She licked, kissed and nibbled, letting his balls roll over her tongue. She sucked one into her mouth, and he gave a hoarse shout. She cupped him, fondled him and made sweet love to him with her mouth.

A tiny spurt of fluid spilled onto her cheek where his cock lay as she played with his sac. Knowing he was close, she rocked back on her heels and guided him back into her mouth.

She took him hard and fast, working him with her hand, swallowing him with her mouth. She tightened her grip and clamped down around him as she sucked.

A hot spurt hit the back of her throat. Then another and still it kept coming. She swallowed and continued sucking him, taking him deep, allowing him to pour himself into her mouth.

When the last spilled onto her tongue, she eased up, lapping gently at him, her hand soothing now instead of hard. She cupped his balls and massaged as she finally allowed him to slide from the clasp of her lips.

He was spent. Exhausted. His entire body trembled and a sheen of sweat lay over his skin. She hurried to retrieve the chair, and then climbed up to untie his wrists. He swayed and took a step back, but she was there, tucking herself against his waist and wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

“Come with me,” she said quietly. “I’m not finished.”

“I hope to hell you are,” he said hoarsely. “I can’t take any more.”

She smiled and guided him quietly down the hall and into the bedroom. He started for the bed, but she pulled him in the direction of the bathroom.

He went willingly, and she left him long enough to start the shower. Hot and full of steam just the way he liked.

Despite his lethargy, one of his eyebrows went up when she started to pull off her clothes. She ignored him and pushed him toward the shower.

The spray hit them both, and he groaned as the water sluiced over his raw back. For a moment he leaned against the wall of the shower, his forehead resting on his arm. He closed his eyes and let the water wash over him.

She took a washcloth and lathered it well with the bar of soap. Then she began to wash him. Sudsy foam made a trail up his body, only to be washed away as soon as it appeared. She lovingly touched every single part of his skin. She bathed his wounds, caressed his hurts and followed each touch with a gentle kiss.

Her heart welled with love for him. Seeing him vulnerable had shaken her to the core. He was so strong and yet he had needs just as she did. She wanted to tell him he didn’t always have to be the strong one. He could lean on her when he needed to.

After washing and rinsing his hair, she turned the shower off and started to get out. He caught her arm. “But what about you, Angel?”

She smiled and shook her head. “Tonight was all about you, Micah.”

When he reached for the towel she held, she again shook her head and proceeded to dry his body, taking extra care not to abrade his tender back. She wiped all the way down to his feet and back up again. Then she had him sit on the toilet seat so she could dry his hair.

Through it all he watched her with a bemused expression, as if he couldn’t quite figure out what he thought of it all.

Tossing aside the towel, she held out her hand to Micah. For a minute he stared at her and then her hand, before finally sliding his palm over hers and gripping her fingers.

She led him into the bedroom and urged him onto the bed. After toweling her hair one more time to get rid of the wet, she crawled in beside him and pulled the covers over them both. His warmth reached out to her and she snuggled close, pulling him into her arms until his head rested on her breasts.

At this moment, everything was right in her world. Nothing could intrude. Nothing could ruin this moment.

They lay there in silence for a long time. She thought he’d fallen asleep, when he shifted onto his back and pulled her up so she was cradled in the crook of his arm.

“Tell me about Mama Rose, Angel. Why were you there? You were no novice with the whip.”

Her chest heaved with a sigh and she laid her palm over his chest. “I was there for you, Micah. Only you. I practiced because I’d never hurt you with my inexperience. I worked for hours with Mama Rose and one of the other girls there, but you were the only one I ever whipped. You were the only one I ever went there for.”

He swallowed and was silent for a long moment. She waited for the questions, but they didn’t come. She waited for the anger or outrage, but he lay still beside her as if processing what she’d divulged.

“Once a year,” she murmured. “It was the one time I could see you and be with you. I wanted to be close to you, but you weren’t ready. Your grief was still so deep. Maybe I shouldn’t have done it, but the thought of someone else giving you release from your pain was more than I could bear. I wanted to be the one to take care of you.”

A light quiver worked through his body and she felt him inhale sharply.

“That’s what I was missing with Hannah,” he said in a low, pained voice.

She ran her fingers down the midline of his chest and back up again, her movements slow and soothing. She didn’t ask him what he meant. Just waited for him to continue.

“I was always the strong one. It’s what I wanted. It’s what she wanted. She had me and David to protect her, to take care of her.”

“But no one ever took care of you,” she said softly.

“No,” he agreed. “I didn’t think I wanted it. But now . . .”

She raised her head to stare down at him, her hair falling over his chest, still damp. “Now?” she whispered.

“You make me want. You make me want things I’ve never wanted. How is that possible? The idea of sharing myself so deeply with another person. Of trusting them to see me ...”

“Vulnerable?”

He nodded, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.

“I’m vulnerable too, Micah. Always with you. Only with you. Is it so wrong for you to be vulnerable to someone who cares so much about you?”

“Yes,” he said painfully. “I don’t want to ever give someone that kind of power to destroy me.”

She leaned down to kiss him. His hands gripped her shoulders and he pulled her closer, his mouth melting over hers in a warm, sweet rush.

It was she who took control of the kiss. She touched his cheek, in a loving gesture, stroking as her tongue swept over his, light and soothing. She inhaled deeply, holding his scent, letting it wash through her quivering nostrils.

Though he wouldn’t say it, wouldn’t admit it, his actions screamed louder than the boldest of words. He cared. Maybe too much. Maybe not enough. But when he touched her, all she felt was the most exquisite rush of love. It filled her with hope, made her heart ache.

She rotated, sliding her leg over his body, her lips never leaving his. Only when she’d straddled him did she break away.

She slid back until his cock jutted upward against her belly. She stroked lightly, running her fingers up and down the steel length. Then she rose up and tucked it into place. Slowly, reverently, she lowered herself onto his erection.

Their harsh breathing filled the air. She trembled. He shook. He reached for her waist, holding tight. She fell forward, bracing her hands against his chest.

When she was seated fully, she traced a path down his chest with her fingers, touching, loving. So soft, as if she could instill a hundred years’ worth of love in just a few moments’ time. She rolled her hips, making sweet, slow love to him.

Through half-lidded eyes, he watched her, a glow emanating from his dark depths. Yes, he could say what he want, he could hide behind his fears, but his eyes didn’t lie.

She reached for his hands, pulled them together over her belly and then slid them up her body until she clasped them over her heart.

“I love you, Micah,” she whispered. “You may not want it. You may not need it. But you’ll always have it. It doesn’t come with any strings or expectations. It’s given freely.”

With an agonized groan, he rose up, gathering her in his arms. He buried his face in her neck as he shuddered his release deep into her body.

She wrapped her arms around him and held him tight to her. She soothed her hands over his skin and just held him as he held on to her.

“Don’t love me, Angel.”

She smiled against his hair. “That’s one thing you can’t control, Micah.”

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