Sinfully Mastered: Naughty Nookie

by Akeroyd, Serena

  Understatement of the year.

  I just hum in agreement, hoping that’s answer enough. Pondering his words, while looking up at those sparkling, twinkling orbs of light in the night sky, I ask, “If you were friends enough to know all that about him, why did the two of you fall out?” I pose the question even though my gut tells me I already know the answer.

  “Natalia.” Bingo. “Nate and I were in the same fraternity as well as taking a few of the same classes. One of the guys at the frat house challenged us to go to one of the local BDSM dungeons and steal a flogger.” He chuckles. “We soon forgot the dare. Think two kids in a candy store.”

  My lips twitch at the analogy, but I’m too intent on learning the truth to relax. “Where does Natalia fit in? Was she a member of the dungeon?”

  “No, she was in our year. We both found her attractive but didn’t think she was into the lifestyle. Though she was classic sub material. Completely opposite to you, as it happens. Nate found her at another BDSM club. Quite by accident.

  “One of the Doms was having a real go at her and not in a safe, sane, and consensual way, either. Nate took care of her and the three of us…well; we were together from that moment on. We just gelled.”

  They’d shared her? And Nate had gone to BDSM clubs? The same Nate who had firmly told me he’d never share me with another Dom and that no one would ever get to see me in public? Fuck. These answers are only creating more questions.

  “What went wrong? If you were all so happy together.” I wince at my shrewish tone but I can’t help it. Where Nate’s concerned, I’m possessive to the nth degree.

  He laughs, but it’s a cold, unamused chuckle. “She’s squeamish. Not about most things, and Christ, we’d done nearly everything you can imagine to her, but when Nate lost his arm, she freaked out. Couldn’t handle the idea of the stump, couldn’t handle the idea of it touching her.

  “Not a very admirable moment in her life. We both know, Natalia and I, that I lost respect for her when she dumped him.”

  I can feel a headache starting to gather like storm clouds at my temples. The bitch dumped him after he became an amputee? Hell, that was probably why, at the start of our relationship, he was always really conscious about his arm. Especially in the bedroom. And it’s why, he probably kept all of this tucked away. He told me that he hid the fact he’s a Dom, because I wasn’t ready for it. But I think I have the real answer.

  That fucking, lily-livered bitch.

  It’s hard, but I manage to keep my rage from my voice. I don’t want to stop this confessional. It’s like Erick is in a trance and I don’t want him to come out of it. “Then, why keep her around?”

  “After college, I hired her as my PA. She’s damned good at her job. But more importantly, I don’t have to use establishments like Papillon. A scandal will never touch me, and she’s convenient.”

  “Charming.”

  He shrugs at my wry remark. “Mercenary, I know. Like I said, I lost any softer feelings I had for her when she dropped Nate the way she did. He was low, lower than I’d ever seen him.

  “When I heard about the Somali pirates and what they’d done to the ship Nate was sailing on, it took an incredible amount of organization to get him transferred to the US. It killed me to see him like that. Hurt me like you wouldn’t believe. And then, Natalia did what she did.

  “Some days, when I think about it, if I really let myself remember, I could fire her and seeing her again would be a lifetime too soon.” He huffs out a laugh, but again, it’s sad and in no way amused.

  “Why are the two of you still at each other’s throats? I don’t understand; you did nothing to him. And I can tell…you don’t hate him.”

  “I’ve always counted on Nate, always believed him to be one of my truest friends and even though he hates me, or thinks he does, if I needed him, he’d come. It suits him to blame me for our sub’s treachery. It’s easier, less painful, for him to think she chose me over him, and I love him enough to let him.”

  Despite myself and despite Erick’s evident and touching sadness at the current state of his friendship with Nate, the selfish bitch in me is wriggling with jealousy over his ‘our sub’ comment. Before the poison can fester, I whisper, “Does he still have feelings for her?”

  At my softly posed question, Erick hesitates. The pair of us are both aware of the damage his answer can reap. Especially with his earlier admission that he wants me.

  “No, he doesn’t.” His words are heavy. “We never loved Natalia, and neither did she love us. There were no feelings to be had outside of what we could give each other.”

  “If you love him, then why did you just come on to me?”

  He turns to face me, the moon just letting me glimpse his somber features. “Trying to recoup the past, I suppose. Don’t get me wrong, you know I’ve always wanted you. Sharing Natalia with Nate gave me something I’ve never had before. I can only imagine how powerful it would be if you were the sub we were both sharing.” Stunned at his honesty, although I shouldn’t be after the revelations popping up from this conversation, I watch in silence as he climbs off the ATV.

  With one hand on the cart, his back to me, he mutters, voice low and filled with pain, “Tomorrow is going to be a busy day. I’ll need that list as soon as you can get it to me.”

  With that, he walks off and leaves me to my Nate-laden thoughts.

  * * *

  “I didn’t realize Dorothy’s lodgings were in Timbuktu.”

  Nate’s words make me jump. I hadn’t expected for him to be waiting for me. Never mind waiting for me in the vestibule.

  The Marina of old wants to retort snootily. Demand to know if I have to account for every damned second. I manage to hold my tongue. Just. Especially as this afternoon, the answer to that question would have been an unequivocal yes. After Nate’s lies, I’m not sure where our relationship stands, so my voice is smooth as I reply, “We talked.”

  “That’s all you better have done,” he grits out. Nate strides toward me, and I brace myself unsure of what he’s about to do. Hell, I don’t think he’ll hurt me, but he’s pissed off, and I’ve learned to be wary of Nate’s tempers. My ass always suffers for it.

  He comes to a halt about six inches from me and then, he starts to sniff.

  Honest to God sniff.

  Dazed, I shake my head and ask, “Are you smelling me? Are you for real?”

  “Trying to see if you’re covered in that God-awful cologne he wears,” he grunts, audibly sniffing my hair, throat, and then, dropping down to my breasts.

  “Well, thanks for having faith in me,” I spit, stung at his distrust, and jerk away from him. “Not once have I ever given you cause to doubt me in that way. You know I’d never cheat. Especially not with Erick, for God’s sake.”

  He studies me, his doubt filling those hazel eyes of his and turning them a battleship gray. Before my conversation with Erick, I’d have stormed off. Bitterly hurt. Now, I have a small insight into what makes this man tick, and after his experiences with Natalia, after what she did to him, how can I be anything but understanding?

  Even though it’s difficult, like twisting the proverbial knife, I blow out a breath and as sweet as pie, tell him the God’s honest truth. “I dropped him off at his mother’s place. Part B was not slotted into Part A. Never has been, never will be.”

  He shudders and the involuntary action reminds me of Erick’s earlier loss of control. It seems it’s a night for strong men to quiver and quake before me.

  “I want you to swear to me, now, that you’ll never let him touch you.” He grabs me by my upper arms in a hold that is both firm yet painless. I’m not moving an inch unless he wants me to.

  “You’re not listening to me. I don’t want him to touch me, not in the way you’re implying, Nate. What about handshakes? Greetings? I mean, I can’t swear I’ll never touch him again. The difference is I don’t want him. I repeat: never have and never will.”

  He trembles, and it’s then I star
t to get scared. Nate doesn’t do things like this. He’s one of those stoic types. Hell, it shouldn’t have come as the surprise it was to learn he was a Dom. He’s in control. Always. It’s rare he breaks down. In fact, scratch that. It never happens.

  Twisting out of his awkward hold on me, I clasp his face. Rising up on tiptoe, I press my forehead to his and give him what he needs to hear, the truth, even after all the lies he’s been feeding me. “I only want you. I love you.”

  At that moment, my earlier resentment, my worries and fears about his lies disappear in the face of that truth. I do love him. Enough to trust him. Enough to console him as he works through whatever issue has him trembling in front of me with the ferocity of his emotions.

  I wince at his harsh breathing and lower my hands from his face, rest them on his arms, gently embracing him, trying to show him I love him.

  It’s hard. I’ve never been affectionate, never shown my love through touch, until Nate. It isn’t that I don’t want to hold him, I’m just not sure how. Awkwardly, I press my chest to his and maneuver myself so we’re flush. He shudders, then stiffly, as though his joints need oil, he lifts his arms and clings to me.

  At that moment, Nate gifts me something. Power over him. It’s usually the other way round. Me giving him control and him with all the power. But not at that moment.

  I tenderly accept the gift, silently promising to never break his trust, and hold him like he needs to be held. Giving him something I never thought he’d need from me: succor.

  In a relationship like ours, I guess it seems like it really is all take from him, and give from me. But the strangest things have started to occur to me.

  I'm here because I want to be.

  Sure, he kind of blackmailed me into staying with him, into becoming his sub, but it was always my choice. And as always, I chose him. As I will continue to do, even when I have issues with what he wants from me, even if my trust in him wavers. My choice is Nate. Through the vagaries of fate, and the shit life throws in our path.

  Through that choice, I've discovered a part of myself I buried away. But then, maybe it's buried away in all subs, and they're just waiting for the right Dom to come along and discover the hidden jewel of their submission.

  Whatever it is, I don't know. I do know that I need this, him, his mastery over me like I need art, like I need this ranch. It's as intrinsic to me as the most basic parts of my nature.

  The realization shudders through me, and I have to clench my eyes closed to stop the tears from seeping through. The revelation, at this moment in time, is extraordinary.

  I kind of understand how Uncle Sam feels when he hits a breakthrough. Only, this is better because Marina is finally starting to understand Marina, and that feels more complex than the cure for cancer.

  We just stand there. In the middle of the foyer, my arms wrapped around him, and Nate huddling into my embrace. It’s faintly awkward as he’s a good three inches taller than me, but we manage. With soft, caressing fingers, I let my hands rub his back, and slowly but surely, he relaxes in my arms.

  In silence, we break apart, but I hold out my hand and he accepts it. Together, we climb up the stairs and head toward our quarters. He opens the door for me, and I step through and switch on the light. My eyes focus on the bed, spying the photos Greta had found somewhere in this room.

  It seems incredible that Greta, one of the commune’s computer scientists, was in our bedroom a few hours ago. It feels like a few days have passed since then. And with what I’ve learned about Nate, I guess I know him more now than I ever have, and that’s due to a third party.

  He steps into the room, and from the corner of my eye I notice that he’s studying me. I blow out a breath, turn to him and whisper, “Tomorrow. There’s time for answers in the morning.”

  He nods, taking my lead and while I’ve only been his sub for a short time, it feels incredibly strange to be in charge. But at this moment, I’m not exactly his sub. He’s not exactly my Dom.

  We’re not the labels we’ve attached to ourselves. We’re simply Nate and Marina. The bare bones.

  I grab the photos, gather them together, and ignoring the contents, place them on the bedside table. Once that’s done, I begin to strip. Still dressed in my daisy-yellow frock from earlier, there’s little to remove, and I climb into bed once it’s on the floor and no longer covering me.

  I watch with lust-free eyes as Nate strips, and naked, pads over to the bed and climbs in beside me. He reaches up, switches off the overhead light, and in the darkness, we slide across the sheets and into each other’s arms.

  Our bodies brush, limbs entangling as we entwine ourselves around each other. But it isn’t sexual. Turned on my side, Nate’s chest to my back, we fall asleep in an embrace that unites us in a way neither of us thought possible.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  In the movies, they make waking up look sexy. No morning breath, no need to pee and if the heroine happened to fall asleep using the hero’s chest as a cushion, there’s no stiff neck.

  Now, I don’t need the bathroom, but I definitely need to brush my teeth. And in the night, at some point, Nate and I drifted apart, so there’s no need for a double dose of Ibuprofen. We’re not in the tangled knot we were before we fell asleep. We’re on our own sides of the bed, a ruler’s length space between us, but our calves are brushing and my toes are kneading into the thick muscle of his lower leg.

  “You always wake up that way. It’s how I know when you’re about to get up.”

  Nate’s morning rasp greets my ears, and around a yawn, I turn onto my side. Staring at him in the early light of dawn, I smile. “What way?”

  “Your feet. They’re either kneading my leg or the bed.”

  “Think of it as a free massage,” I tease and remembering last night and Nate’s loss of control, it’s a pleasure to see him smile. “I don’t just give them to anyone, you know.” In a way, it was a tactless thing to say, but I end it with a pointed look.

  Even half-asleep, I know to assure Nate that he’s the only one I want to wake up with every morning.

  He grimaces and turns over too so we’re facing each other. No longer touching, I reach out and lay a hand against his taut belly. I just need the connection. Pathetic, but I’ve come to realize the power of touch thanks to Nate.

  “I’m sorry about last night...”

  Before he can go on, I hold up a hand. “There’s no need to apologize.”

  “No, there is. I accused you of something, and I shouldn’t have done so. I trust you, but for a while, I forgot that.”

  “I know you did, but you’ve remembered now, and that’s all that counts.”

  He eyes me and as accustomed as I am to his attention, it’s in such a strange way that for a second, vanity makes me wonder if a huge zit or something popped up on my face overnight. Then he makes me chuckle by saying, “What did you do with the Marina I know?”

  “Nothing.” I pause. “Actually, you spanked, pinched, prodded, flogged, and generally fucked her silly.”

  His smile widens. “I did, didn’t I? I didn’t realize how much I’d changed you until you hugged me last night.” His eyes are somber now. “You wouldn’t have done that before.”

  “No. I’d have wanted to. I’m not very affectionate, but before I came here, I always wanted to be more open with you. I just didn’t know how.”

  “Now you do?”

  “Thanks to you.” His lips twitch but before he can say another word, I murmur, “What happened, Nate? What made you break down on me?”

  That same atmosphere from last night is still upon us. It’s just us. Stripped bare, both physically and emotionally. I wonder if he realizes this is another gift he has given me. Talking about my emotions or anyone else’s has never been easy. Never. Not even with Jimmy.

  In the past, I have shied away from a conversation of this nature. As it is, I want to learn another facet of the man I love.

  Enough to make you vomit, right? Being sappy is
n’t me. Or, at least, it wasn’t.

  “Jealousy.”

  “Of who? Natalia?” I say the other woman’s name; all the while hoping to God he doesn’t break my heart by saying it is her. His immediate frown turns my stomach. “The way you looked at her last night. After we arrived at the landing strip. I could sense the history between the two of you.”

  “Yeah, because it’s just that. History. Natalia is someone I just used to know, but I didn’t expect to see her here. Whenever van der Viel comes here, he’s always alone.”

  “I guess he’s never come here on government business before. Or if he has, nothing with the same urgency as what’s going on at the minute. He probably needs all the help he can get. As soon as I give him the list, he’ll have to convince dozens of people to resign. I’d have thought it was more than a one man job.”

  “I guess. It pissed me off to see her here, but it didn’t make me jealous.”

  “Why did it piss you off?”

  “Because she’s a superficial bitch, who cut me off when I was at my lowest point.”

  “When you lost your arm?” I ask, pretending to know nothing about this subject. At his nod, I launch myself across the bed and press myself against him. “Cow.”

  “Yeah.” His chuckle has me hugging him with one arm and one leg.

  “I’m sorry she hurt you, baby.”

  His shrug jostles me, but I cling on, refusing to let go, needing him to know I’m here for him. Needing him to know that more than I need to take my next breath. “It’s a long time ago. It doesn’t hurt any more, just gets me mad to think of all the time I wasted on her.”

  Even though I know the answer, I ask, “Was she your...”

  “Sub?” he finishes off my question for me. “Yeah. But she isn’t why I backed away from the lifestyle, if that’s what you think. Not long after she dumped me, I met you and you weren’t ready for anything close to a Dom/sub relationship, plus we were thousands of miles apart and rarely saw each other. I always knew that if I was going to get into the lifestyle again, I’d want it twenty-four-seven. No more playing at it. And that wasn’t possible with you in New York and me here.”