Masochist

by Nadia Aidan

  She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  His eyebrows lifted at her odd response and he stared at her curiously before his gaze darted around the room. “Take a look around. Does it look like he is here?”

  “No. It would appear that your room holds only you and me.”

  “In that case, if you’ve come to kill your father, and your father is not here, then why are you still here?”

  His question was met with silence, and, chained as he was, he was in no position to question her further. Adonis sighed.

  “Well, while you wait to kill your father, what do you plan to do in the meantime?”

  Her eyes brightened. “It would seem that I am enjoying you, though that was never my intent.”

  He could not believe the oddity of her statements, but he would not stop now. This was the most she’d discussed of her plan since Ares had exposed her. “Don’t you think enjoying me is somewhat counterproductive? If your plan is to kill your father, and it is obvious your father isn’t here, then shouldn’t you be out looking for him instead of wasting your time with me?”

  Something shifted in her eyes, and he knew this was the last question she would answer. “I am not wasting my time. I know where my father is.”

  Her odd words struck him because he’d remembered hearing her clearly say that her father had disappeared and she did not know where he was. “So where is he then?”

  Her mouth flattened into a tight line. Her expression revealed this line of questioning had met its end, so he pursued another. “Why did you handcuff me to the bed?”

  “To prove to you that I am not here to kill you, to show you that I mean you no harm, that if I wanted you dead, I could have ended your life hours ago.”

  “Just because you’re not here to kill me, does not mean that your presence will not cause me harm, even if you don’t intend for it to. Your presence has already caused me harm.” He thought of the feelings of guilt she’d aroused. She’d awakened feelings he’d buried but had never forgotten. They’d torn him apart inside for years. He’d been tormented by them, only to have her walk back into his life and reveal she’d always known the truth and she’d forgiven him years ago. She’d meant no harm, but she’d caused it nonetheless.

  “Trust is earned, Selena, and you’ve not proven yourself trustworthy.” He gestured with his head to the knife. “After everything you’ve done, the lies, the deceit—I am inclined to believe you staged this just to engender my trust, to get me to let my guard down. And then…”

  “And then what?”

  He’d stopped because he had no idea what she planned to do next. “I don’t know.” He shrugged. “And then you will do what you’ve really come here to do.”

  “I’ve already told you, I’ve come here to kill my father.”

  “An impossibility at this point.”

  The small frown across her face told him she was annoyed with him, but within seconds her dark expression gave way to sparkling eyes.

  “I would prefer to change the subject—”

  “I bet you would. It must be difficult keeping up with all the lies.”

  Her smile dimmed, but it did not disappear. “I will not be deterred by your surly disposition. I had a reason for cuffing you.”

  That raised his brows. “And what was that?”

  Her cheeks bloomed with splotches of red and despite himself he could feel his body responding to her wanton innocence. “I wanted to explore you, to do things I’ve only read about in magazines and books that were forbidden within the convent.”

  He peered at Selena, his expression watchful. Her statement reminded him of a question he’d had for her ever since Ares had revealed her deception. “You told Ares that you and Serena would trade places from time to time.” When she nodded, he continued, “Did you not take advantage of your time spent inside a brothel to”—he searched for the right words—“explore your desires?”

  She shook her head. “I considered it, but, while I knew what you’d done to me had not been your fault, it was a long time before I understood my inner longings. What you said yesterday, about me being masochistic, resonated with me. It seems to explain everything. When you first took me, you caused me pain, but it was the pain that made me beg, made me burn with pleasure. My sexual fantasies have always involved a man hurting me, causing me pain. I didn’t understand that, and I was ashamed because of it. I wanted to experience other men, but I could barely understand the needs of my own body. In the end, I was always too afraid.”

  Adonis was surprised by the sharp pang of jealousy, even more so when it stole his breath. She’d wanted to experience other men. She’d even fantasised about it. The beast inside him began to retreat when he remembered that, while she may have wanted other men and thought of them, she’d only ever been with him.

  “What happened to your back?”

  Her question jarred him as violently as a quake trembling through his body. “Excuse me?”

  “It is obvious you were whipped, then burned. I would like to know what happened.”

  Her words were softly spoken. His were harsh. “That is none of your business.”

  She reared back, her expression unreadable. “I am sorry. You asked me a question of a private nature. I thought I could do the same.”

  “There are some questions that go beyond a private nature. Some questions can never be answered, so they should never be asked.”

  The light in her eyes dimmed. “I said I was sorry,” she offered quietly.

  Her apology did not appease him, even though he knew it was her nature to probe, that the intimacy they’d shared emboldened her to ask such questions.

  “I am also sorry that your father hurt you, that others hurt you and took away your ability to love…to trust.”

  “I love my brothers. I trust them.”

  “But they are not a woman.”

  His lips twisted into a sardonic smile. “According to you, I love you.”

  “But you do not trust me—”

  “And whose fault is that?”

  “Just as you do not love me in the way a man should,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “You only love me because you have no choice, because you can’t seem to stop.”

  The compassion in her eyes and the love that shimmered in their depths speared him. He desperately wanted to look away, but he couldn’t. “What do you know of love?” he bit out, anger his only defence when he felt her beginning to expose him.

  “Admittedly, I do not know much.” She touched him, her soft palm against the rough, masculine skin of his legs, his thighs, his rippled abdomen, his jutting cock. She touched him—all of him, all over him. “But I do know of how I want to be loved. How I want to love you.”

  “And how is that?” The words came out on a desperate, raspy groan before he could stop them.

  She straddled his hips, her cunt already wet, the juices slipping across his stomach. She continued to touch him, her hand caressing his chest, his shoulders, the coarse hairs along his unshaven jaw.

  “I want to love you with tenderness, with compassion, and I want to be loved the same way in return.”

  His free hand found its way to her bare thigh, her backside. He trailed his hand across her middle then lightly cupped her breast. “And what of passion?” he breathed out, his voice unsteady from a question he did not wish to ask, but for the answer he needed to know. “Do you want to be loved with passion as well?”

  Her eyes were already glazed with lust, and, for the briefest second, he imagined what it would be like to wake up beside this woman—this passionate, sensual, sexual woman—every morning, and fall asleep with her in his arms every night. He imagined making love to this strong, resilient woman who dared to love him, filling her with his cock, planting his seed inside her womb and giving her his children. His gut clenched, his heart stuttered, his breath slipped from his chest. It was terrifying. It was comforting.

  “Yes, I want passion as well,” she replied.

&n
bsp; “For how long?”

  “Forever, for a lifetime, for an eternity.”

  Her eyes blazed with every emotion she sought and each emotion she offered. He could not resist her.

  “Come here.”

  She looked at him, puzzled. “Come where?”

  “Come here so that I may kiss your pussy.”

  Her eyes widened. “But then you will not be able to breathe.”

  A chuckle bubbled out of him. “Did you not just say you wanted to be loved with passion? That is my intent, Selena. To love you with passion.”

  “But I-I’ve never—”

  “Ridden a man’s face?” He’d forgotten how innocent she could be at times. He bit back a small smile. Of course she’d not ridden a man’s face because she’d never been atop his.

  “I know,” was all he said, but still she hesitated, sceptical. She truly thought she would suffocate him.

  “You cannot hurt me,” he assured.

  She inched forward, but stopped just beneath his chin. He took his free hand, palmed her ass and pressed her the rest of the way until her cunt was against his mouth, her juices wetting his chin.

  Her moan was as heady and intoxicating as the perfumed musk of her sex. She tasted sweet and he licked her folds, plunging his tongue between them, inside her.

  He pierced her cunt—her hot, tight hole—curving his tongue until it scraped against the roof of her sheath, until he was tickling the most pleasurable spot inside her pussy.

  She moaned above him, her hips lightly rocking so that she could grind her cunt against his face. Every feathered sigh was a delight, every soft cry a treasure. To love Selena was a beautiful thing, to be loved by her even more so. What they shared was ill-fated—their past, present…even their future conspired against them—but in the time they had, Adonis wanted to love her with passion. He wanted to love her with his body, because he would never— could never—admit to loving her with words.

  Prickly heat needled its way down his back along his spine. His cock, hard and heavy, sought release, and he trailed his hand across the length of his body and pumped his shaft in time to the bouncing of her buttocks atop his face.

  She rode him with an undulating, lazy rhythm, building his desire and hers. He’d closed his eyes to savour every stilted breath, to delight in the scent of her hovering in the air. He opened his eyes and glanced up. Her head was thrown back, her lips parted as she fondled her breasts—massaging them, plucking at her tight nipples harder than was necessary, but with just the right pressure to satisfy her baser needs.

  In her unbridled desire, she was as beautiful as she was wanton, and he loved her with passion…with tenderness. His lips hungrily seized upon her hot nub and he sucked gently, then harder and harder still until she flooded his mouth with a rush of liquid warmth, trembling above him.

  Her hips moved in earnest, her cunt bouncing against his face. He plunged his tongue inside her, lapping at her juices, teasing her with the tip before probing inside her again. She quivered above him and he knew she was close. He tightened his fist around his cock and jacked himself harder, faster. When he felt her jerk against him, then release a splintering scream, he relaxed his jaw, working his mouth furiously to swallow every drop, to fill himself with her essence.

  Adonis drank from her pussy until she was spent. He expected her to collapse against him and gather her breath but she didn’t. She wove her way down his body, and, with deft movements, she pushed aside his pumping hand and swallowed his dick in a single gulp.

  “Selena…” He grunted her name, his eyes clenching shut, his hips surging off the bed so that he pushed himself all the way to the back of her throat. She took him there, then she took him deeper. His free hand found its way into the tangled mass of her hair, and he guided her mouth up and down his shaft until his rod was glistening wet and he was trembling with the effort to restrain himself. He wanted to last a while longer, to savour the pleasure of her sucking him off, but she must have sensed his strained need. She snapped his control when she shoved her finger into his puckered anus and found that soft, spongy space that caused him to erupt on a violent curse.

  He thrust up off the bed, and she held his hips, her face buried in his groin, her nose tickling his pubic hair. Adonis came on a long, harsh groan, his seed jetting out of him into her mouth and down her throat. Like he’d done just moments before, she relaxed her jaw and swallowed every drop.

  He was soft and flaccid by the time she released him, a boneless heap by the time she unlocked the cuff from around his wrist. He did not move for a long while. He simply lay there atop the bed, staring up at the crown moulding that ran along the ceiling.

  “Am I still a prisoner here?”

  Adonis frowned through his euphoria. “Why do you ask?”

  “I would just like to know if I can leave, and, if I can’t, then where can I go inside this place.”

  He sat up then and rolled out of the bed. “No, you cannot leave. As far as where you can go inside this home, there are places that are off limits, but most are not. Cassius can show you around wherever you would like to go.”

  “Cassius? Your bodyguard from the hotel?”

  He stared at her. “Do you know him?”

  “Only from the other night. You called him by name.”

  He relaxed. He’d never been a jealous man until her…and only with her, it would seem.

  “Yes, well, Cassius will know where you can go, and where you cannot.”

  “When will I be able to leave?”

  He was halfway across the room to the bathroom when he stopped. “When my brothers and I deem so.”

  “You cannot keep me here forever.”

  He sighed. “Believe me, Selena, we do not intend to.” With that, he closed the bathroom door, shutting her out if only for the half hour it would take him to shower and change.

  * * * *

  When he left his bedroom, he found her in the sitting area, sipping tea and reading the newspaper.

  She looked up when he walked in.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I have an errand to run.”

  He nodded then at the tea and paper in her hand.

  “Cassius,” she said, answering his questioning gaze. “I told him of my desire to tour the house. He seemed amenable.”

  Adonis frowned. “If Cassius tells you a section is off limits, then do not press to go where you do not belong.”

  Her brows arched. “What are you hiding in an old home that has been empty for a year?”

  “Selena…”

  “I am simply bored, Adonis, trapped in this house with nothing to do, and now you will be gone for the day. What do you expect me to do?”

  She had a point, but he knew Selena—her curious mind, her probing nature. She would wander, and she would find things that she wouldn’t want to know. Things about him. Things about her.

  “I would have you promise me, but I know you will only do what you wish. I will be sure Cassius has strict orders to not be swayed by you, but I warn you—do not go where you do not belong.”

  “Or what?”

  “Some secrets are never meant to see the light of day. Understand that and respect it.”

  He didn’t know if his words had fallen upon deaf ears or if she’d truly heard him. He didn’t question her either, nor did he stay to find out. Selena was headstrong and determined. He could tell her no, and she would just do it anyway. Just as he could place an army of men before her, and she would still find a way around them.

  All he could do was hope that Selena heeded his words—there were some secrets so heinous, so depraved, that they would destroy all if they were ever exposed. The secrets locked in his father’s home could destroy many—the two of them included. He hoped she believed him.

  He truly hoped she did not go where she did not belong.

  Chapter Thirteen

  As the proprietor of the western district, Adonis believed in encouraging the arts along with fashion. La Mai
son d’Adonis had represented a departure from such pursuits, but the establishment had been born out of his desire to create a place of beauty and luxury, fashioned out of the imaginations of the artists who lived and worked within his domain.

  Every room had been carefully conceived and constructed—not one detail had escaped his notice, not a single decision had been made without his input. That was why, upon entering La Maison d’Adonis, every patron was greeted by an intricate tapestry of painted images along the ceiling of lovers entwined. The same was true for the mural splashed across an entire wall within the lobby that depicted a man and a woman bathing naked in a serene garden.

  Everywhere one looked, there were images of lovers and sculptures of the nude form. His vision for La Maison d’Adonis had been to create a place of beauty that inspired the imagination and nurtured feelings of love and lust. And he’d succeeded in doing just that.

  Adonis made his way through the lobby of his hotel, cordially greeting his staff and the guests as he passed by. He was not there to entertain a business associate nor was this a social call. He had a purpose, but he also had a statement to make. Whatever the rumours circulating—of the fires, of someone threatening his brothers and their dynasty—Adonis wanted to send a clear message that he was very much alive, well, and still engaged in his business pursuits.

  He walked past the guest elevators and punched in the code to enter a small room. A single elevator greeted him, and he punched in another code, waiting patiently until the metal doors slid open. After climbing to the top floor, the elevator opened again and he stepped into his penthouse.

  The place was as he’d left it, the only difference being the fumes that greeted him. Adonis walked into his bedroom, which had been transformed into an inferno just days ago. Already, the room appeared as it had been before—eggshell walls had been plastered then painted. The dark wood furniture had all been replaced. It was as if nothing had happened.

  Adonis stalked over to his closet, pushed aside his clothing then opened the safe nestled deep into the wall. He’d come back there to retrieve four items, and he pulled them from the safe and closed the door.