“After we’re through here, I have to go down and talk to Zeke for a bit,” he informs me between bites of food. It seems I’m not the only one who worked up an appetite last night.
“And what would you suggest I do while you’re down there?” I try not to sound like a petulant girl but I don’t want him to leave. I was hoping we would eat and then retire to the bedroom until sometime early Monday morning.
“Precious, are you getting cocky with me?”
“No,” I say with a mischievous smile on my face. “I believe cocky is all you.” I reach under the table, running my hand along his semi-erect cock.
He reaches down and grabs onto just the tips of my fingers. “You’re playing with fire,” he warns me, causing me to squirm in my seat. “He and I have some things we need to discuss. After that, I promise I’ll come back up and be as cocky as you would like.”
I smile at him as I stand, allowing the hem of his shirt to ride high on my thighs as I lean over to clear the dishes.
“It’s a good thing I know you’re a man of your word,” I say, letting my backside rub against his forearm as I turn to leave the room.
(Dylan)
Tasha is shuffling through a stack of papers splayed out on the coffee table. Today’s the first time I’ve seen her wearing a pair of smart wire-rimmed glasses and she has her hair piled on top of her head in a loose ponytail. The way she looks today reminds of the football game we went to. She doesn’t look as tired as she has for the past few weeks. It might be a bit much, but I can’t help but think that being here with me has been good for both of us.
She opens up to me a little more every day. When we met, I thought I was going to have to turn my back completely on anything other than vanilla sex if I wanted anything to happen between the two of us, but I couldn’t have been more wrong.
It’s comical watching her reaction whenever I bring up trying something I’m sure she will find twisted and taboo. Just to test her, I brought up knife play one night last week over dinner. It’s something that I’ve never done and have no interest in trying, but it was the most extreme thing I could think of and I needed to know that she was an active participant in our play, not an insecure woman trying to please her man.
I place a decorative dagger on the table between us. I know that it has no edge, but she doesn’t.
“What would you say if I told you I want you to feel this cold steel against your soft body tonight?” I ask, trying to keep my tone even and forceful.
She stops chewing and stares at the blade. I know what she will tell me if she’s being honest, but the past few nights I’ve worried that she’s acquiescing to what she thinks I want to do.
“I’d say you’ve lost your mind,” she says softly before grinning at me. She knows this was a test and she passed.
“Good girl.” I reach for her, pulling her body to mine. Rather than stand beside me, she straddles my legs, he knees bent enough that I can feel her heat through the lace panties I told her to wear this evening. “Precious, are you taunting me at the dinner table again?”
“Maybe,” she says coyly.
I don’t protest when she reaches between our bodies, releasing the button on my slacks. Her hand lingers over my cock before she lowers the zipper, allowing my length to spring from its confines.
“You know what I do to you when you disobey me, right, Precious?” My hand rubs over the swell of her tight ass, preparing it for the spanking she’s working hard to earn.
“Yes, Mister Caprese,” she assures me. I’m the one who asked her to call me that. The way I nearly came in my pants the first time she called Mister Caprese, albeit sarcastically, I knew I wanted to hear her scream that name as I drove her over the edge.
“Are you through eating?” I wrap my arms around her and stand, carrying her to the bedroom.
“What’s wrong with you,” Tasha laughs, bringing me back to reality. Like every other day, I stare at her, trying to figure out how I’m going to turn her world inside out.
If she’s telling me the truth, and I believe she is, when she says Nick Romero didn’t hit her, she’s the lucky one. Is it possible to live with someone for so many years and have no clue who you’re sharing a bed with? It’s illogical, but I have no doubt she was in the dark.
“The glasses are a good look for you,” I say, wondering if I can somehow bring us around to the conversation I’ve been avoiding. “Kinda gives you a naughty co-ed look.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s because I’m sitting here in a t-shirt and panties more than the glasses.” She pulls herself up on her knees, wiggling that ass as she reaches for another stack of papers.
“You keep doing things like that and you’ll never get your report done,” I warn her. I adjust myself on the couch, trying to think of anything that will stave off the growth forming in my sweatpants.
“Is that a fact, Mister Caprese?” She asks in a cocky tone. She doesn’t realize it, but she’s everything I ever hoped for in a sub. She’s submissive without being a doormat. She’s flirtatious, right up until she knows she’s crossed the line and then she’s quiet. And we both love it when she toes her way across the line.
“Get back to work,” I scold her with a sharp tap on her right ass cheek. I know I’ve smacked her just hard enough that she’ll feel a delicious sting when she sits back down. “New rule. You cannot tease me until you have that file ready to go. If you do, there will be no fun tonight.”
Her head whips around, her jaw slack. Fuck, I’d love to fill that pretty mouth with my cock. “You wouldn’t,” she protests.
“Oh, but I would. Care to test me?” I laugh and she turns around in a huff.
(Tasha)
I wish there was a way I could work from home every day. Transmission analysis isn’t nearly as boring when I am able to get Dylan all hot and bothered. He talks a good game, but I highly doubt he would be able to deny me if it came down to it.
More than anything, I want to grip the hem of my shirt and lift it over my head to give him a better view. He claims to be an ass man, and I believe he does appreciate my ass, but my breasts are his kryptonite.
The only thing stopping me is I can’t go to work tomorrow morning without this file ready for approval and I’ve let him distract me far too much this weekend.
He doesn’t lay me back on the center of the bed like normal. This time, he sets me on the edge of the bed and walks away. The look in his dark eyes tells me he’s about to push my limits yet again.
“Strip,” he orders me as he walks to the closet. It’s different when he’s like this and across the room. When he’s forceful and near, I can feel the care in his touch, see it in the way he looks at me as if I’m the only person in his world.
I do as he says, which doesn’t take long. One of the first rules Dylan implemented after the night I gave myself to him is I’m not allowed to wear pants when we’re at home unless someone is coming over. When I challenged him, he asked me if I would prefer him to have me naked and at his disposal. As lovely as the last half sounded, there’s no way I could walk around naked. I’m still not comfortable even sleeping in the nude, although he assures me I will get used to it.
I sit back on the bed, hands folded neatly on my lap, waiting for the next command. “On your knees, angel,” he says in the voice he never uses outside of this room. Its low timbre resonates through my body, awakening my core.
My hands hang at my sides, unwilling to give any indication that I might like him to restrain me. He hasn’t mentioned it since the night he introduced me to some simple rope work, but I know from the way he talked about ropes as he walked me through the steps that it’s something he enjoys. I’ve been researching shibari and I’ve decided that I’m not as opposed as I once was. As long as Dylan is the one I’m with, I know I can overcome my fears and my past.
Staring straight ahead as he always instructs me to, I feel the edge of the bed dip. His knees bump against my calves as he positions himself. Sex with Dylan isn�
��t an activity; it’s an event. A well-choreographed scene in which he always leaves me begging for more.
I feel his strong biceps against my arms and I have to resist the urge to reach for him. Touching Dylan is the one thing he does not allow me to do nearly often enough for my tastes. I’m tempted to defy him, simply to feel the sting of his hand on my bare backside. Who would have thought I would love a good spanking as much as I do when it’s at his hand? Not me, that’s for sure.
When the slippery cloth grazes against my thighs, I look down without moving my head. He’s holding a length of black satin, slowly teasing me, dragging it up my thigh and across my bare mound.
“You disobeyed me, Angel,” he says firmly. “If you can’t look ahead, you won’t be allowed to see what I’m going to do to you.”
As he brings the satin to my face, I can smell myself on the material. I take in a deep breath and close my eyes, steeling myself for another new encounter. He knots the scarf behind my head and the world is black. I open my eyes, testing to see if there’s any light and it’s only blackness.
A jolt of cold hits me between the shoulder blades when he leans back. I want to feel him pressed against me. I need his body molded to mine.
A series of soft strips land on my shoulder. Although I can’t see what’s in his hands, I am confident he’s holding a flogger. This is the first time he’s used anything other than his hand on me and my heart rate quickens anxiously. I don’t know if I’m ready to feel the bite against my skin.
“Relax, Angel,” he whispers in my ear. “Do you want pleasure or pain tonight?”
I’m not sure what answer he’s looking for, so I don’t respond. His hand landing on my butt lets me know that was the wrong decision, but the throbbing in my pussy wants that feeling again. I’m not at a place where I can tell him I enjoy the pain, but lord help me, I do.
“Last chance, pleasure or pain.”
“Now who’s the dreamer?” Dylan chuckles. The tips of his fingers brush along the nape of my neck and I know I’m going to have a late night finishing this report.
“Guilty,” I sigh. No point denying it. When you’re able to have such steamy dreams and base them all on memories, it’s hard not to think about it. “I know how you could get me to stop,” I giggle. Yep, I actually giggle when I’m around Dylan. He swears it’s cute, so I don’t try to stop myself.
“I told you the rules, Precious. I’m going to go down to Zeke’s so you can concentrate.” My shoulders slump, feeling defeated. I know I won’t change his mind on this. “Call me when you’re done and we’ll go to dinner.”
I watch him as he disappears into the bedroom, resisting the urge to follow him. It’s not long before he’s walking to the front door, looking utterly edible in tight faded jeans and a t-shirt that has to be a size too small. My focus returns to my transmissions and I double my efforts to get through the stack.
(Dylan)
Leaving Tasha alone in the apartment takes a Herculean effort. Since talking to Tommy, I fear she’s going to try to reach out to Holly. She needs to know how much trouble her friend is in, but again, how can I expect her to trust me over people she has known her entire life.
“Hey man, you look troubled,” Zeke points out as I walk through his front door. I haven’t been sleeping well and I’m beginning to feel the effects. “Still trying to protect her without telling her what’s going on?”
I shrug, bypassing the beer he offers me in favor of a few fingers of Jack. Just enough to soothe my nerves. “If Tommy can get some concrete evidence, I won’t have to tell her.”
“Dude, you have to tell her. How can you expect her to come to you and be open with you if you’re not giving her the same courtesy?” I may be the man sharing a bed with Tasha, but Zeke has become fiercely protective of her. That’s understandable since he is working in his car with a mobile hotspot much of the time so she’s never by herself. Still, it pisses me off that he’s sitting at his bar telling me what I already know.
“Look, when I told her I would protect her, I meant that in every fucking sense of the word,” I growl, slamming my glass on the counter. “That means I need to do this the right way. What would you think if she came to you spewing the type of shit we know? If she told you that I’m an abusive drug dealer?”
“Calm the fuck down, man. I see your problem, I really do, but she has a right to know. Otherwise, what’s going to happen if he convinces her he just wants to talk to her the next time he calls?”
Part of me would love nothing more. Let the miserable prick think he’s meeting with her and I’ll show up in her place. That would be a fun meeting. I’ve wanted a piece of his ass for three years. Seeing the emotional toll he took on someone as beautiful and kind as Tasha just makes me want to pound the shit out of him that much more.
“Fine, oh wise one, how do you suggest I go about this? Maybe you should tell her since you have nothing to lose.” I’m joking, but it might not be a bad plan. Have Zeke and Tommy approach her, that way it’s not coming from the jealous new boyfriend. Not that I’m jealous of the prick, but that’s how she’ll see it.
“That could actually work.” I’m shocked to hear Zeke offering to help me deal with this. It makes me realize just what lengths he’ll go to for Tasha’s sake and that twists the knife that much more.
“Seriously?” I ask in disbelief.
“As a heart attack.” He drains his glass and picks up the bottle to refill both of our drinks. “If you tell her, she’s going to think you’re making it worse than it is to keep her in your bed. If I tell her, I let her know that I’m basically living in my fucking car right now because this dude is that bad. It might not work, but it might be the best option.”
If only I knew what is going on in my girl’s head a bit better, I would know if we’re doing the right thing. The last thing I need is her thinking we’re tag teaming her or that Zeke is telling her because I’m too weak. Then again, that’s exactly what I am. I’m so fucking worried about hurting her and having her run from me that I’m burying my head in the sand.
“Fine, come to dinner with us and we’ll all talk. I’ll call Tommy and see if he can meet us there.” So much for a romantic night out.
(Tasha)
I feel uncomfortable in the dress Dylan picked for me to wear for tonight’s show. I told him it is completely unnecessary for him to keep having someone buy me new clothes, but he insists. It makes him happy, so I don’t protest too much. Plus, it is a work function for him, so it’s understandable he wants me to look my best.
Yes, I swore that living my life caving to the wishes and demands of another person was a thing of the past, but Zeke was right. What Dylan and I have is completely different from my relationship with Nick. The only times Dylan takes total control is when it’s ultimately to make me happy, so I suppose I’m okay with that.
Tonight, I walk into the bedroom to find a rich purple dress hanging on the hook behind his door. This has become the first place I look for an outfit, knowing that if there’s something there, I’m supposed to wear it; otherwise, I’m free to choose my own wardrobe. Tight pleats arranged in a manner that mask the soft areas on my body while accentuating my long legs and ample chest cover the strapless dress. It’s the chest that has me fidgeting as I wait for him to come back to the table with our drinks. I’m certain that I’m one wrong move from being on display for the entire club.
“You look fine,” Zeke says, leaning closer to me. I know he’s worried I’m still upset with him over our dinner debacle last weekend. He’s right, but I’m trying to be rational. He has no reason to lie to me, so I should believe him. It’s just hard when his words painted such an ugly picture of the man I shared the majority of my life with.
“Oh, I know I look good,” I say sarcastically. “I just don’t need to be giving you a free peek at the girls tonight.”
We both laugh and Zeke drapes his arm over my shoulder. “Dylan’s a lucky guy. I hope he knows that.”
“Yeah, because he could have his choice of just about any straight woman on the planet and he ended up with messed up me,” I scoff.
“You don’t give yourself enough credit, Tasha. You’ve been putting up with shit for years, even more than you knew about and you didn’t have a nervous breakdown when I told you what’s been going on. That says something.” He allows his eyes to take in my outfit, pausing briefly at my thighs, waist, and chest before settling on my eyes. “Not to mention you’re sexy as fuck.”
“Yeah, sure. I think you put on the beer goggles a little bit early.” I push him away from me, not wanting Dylan to worry about what’s been going on while he was away. “And about the other, I might not have let you see me crack, but I assure you, I’ve been a mess most of the week.”
“But you didn’t slap me or call me an ignorant bastard,” he points out, tipping his bottle of beer in my direction and we toast, to what I have no clue but I go with it. It’s nice to be carefree Tasha from time to time.
“Zeke, I couldn’t have slapped you. I was in shock. But seriously, can we forget all that for tonight? I really need to just relax after the crap week I’ve had.”
On top of finding out that my ex-husband is an alleged drug distributor in the area, one who the cops keep trying to pin but can’t, I also learned from Zeke that Nick has his own dominant tendencies. Except, unlike Dylan and Zeke, Nick’s idea of dominating is beating on women and it got him kicked out of something called the Isthmus Alliance, an alternative lifestyles group I never knew existed. A group Dylan and Zeke are deeply involved with.
One would think that would be enough for a woman to deal with, but no, the powers that be seem to think I need crap piled on me all at the same time. On Wednesday, word came down that, despite our hours of overtime, attention to detail and all that other corporate cheerleading malarkey, a different carrier won the government processing contract. That means, more than likely, we’ll all be looking for jobs soon.
Unexpected Angel Page 17