The diary wasn’t the sort she knew. The days were all hand numbered and sometimes it seemed the entries were few and far between. However, one caught her eyes, and she stopped flicking and looked at it closely: My Lord Rawcliffe can not take no for an answer. When will he realize I don’t want to dance, walk, chat, or sup with him? Better the devil than he.
The next few entries were about gowns…too fussy, and balls…with the comment, so boring. That sounded like the Angie she knew. Then one word, heavily underlined: No. Followed after a gap of several inches, and days, before a sketched heart and the words: Thank the Lord for Camberley. He had sent Rawcliffe away with a flea in his ear and a threat of dire retribution. I found the small wooden angel my mama gifted me on the floor near the front door. It is said to be important to both our ancestors, but as yet I know not why. So strange. I took her back to my trinket box. A small thing, but something from my grandmama’s childhood I cherish.
Angie closed the diary thoughtfully. So Angel Dora was in this here and now, before she herself knew about it, although not as a Christmas tree ornament.
What the hell was going on? She looked at the quill and ink on the inkstand doubtfully. As a left-handed person in everything, ink and writing was a massive no-no. Argh, did they still persecute corrie-fisted people in whenever I am? All sort of horror stories came back to Angie and crowded into her mind. She put the diary on the table and clenched her hands together. She couldn’t use a pen of any description. She’d end up with ink stains everywhere. A thought struck her. If that diary was written by Angelina, and she was Angelina, where were the ink blots?
Angie leaned back and shut her eyes. So much to process and so little to go on. Angel Dora had to be involved, as did that bugger Stuart Rawcliffe, and of course her beloved Cam.
Did reincarnation exist, and if it did, did you come back as a later version of yourself? It seemed likely, but how on earth could you explain that without being sectioned?
Apart from that, there was one other not so small problem—how to get back to the twenty-first century. With Angel Dora, of course.
It was enough to make anyone’s head ache, let alone someone who had recently suffered a bang on the head and amnesia.
Chapter Five
The gentle bounce, as someone put her down onto a mattress and it swayed under her, woke Angie up.
She opened her eyes and stared into the concerned face of Cam.
“Hi.”
He frowned. “High what?”
Of course that particular greeting wouldn’t be in use, would it? “Er, I mean hello.”
He leaned closer. Angie inhaled the scent she knew as Cam—both Cams. “As in, My Lord, good day and what is your pleasure?”
He grinned. The expression lit up his face, and his eyes twinkled. Angie beamed back. As far as she was concerned, it didn’t matter how often a scientist reiterated eyes didn’t twinkle or gleam or any other such thing, at that moment Cam’s did.
“You. All you. For ever you. But only what at this moment you can give. So, I wonder, what can you give?” His expression was pure devilment. Whatever had happened outwith the room seemed to be in her favor.
“I can give whatever you ask, My Lord.” Somehow the older title seemed to fit.
“Anything?” The word was loaded with suggestion.
Angie sniggered. “Within my safe words, of course. Er, within the parameters of our agreement.” Did that sound better? Would he understand? Not that they had a lot of no-go areas. They seemed, or the modern day Angie and Cam seemed, to have very similar preferences. She had to assume the Regency Cam and Angie were the same.
“You are sure?”
“Very sure. Seriously, Cam, all things hot-and-bothering apart, my head doesn’t ache, my skin isn’t too tight for my body, and I can’t feel the lump on my head unless I go hunting for it. Now if we swap things around a bit, my skin is too tight because I’m so hot and ready for you, it tingles, and the only headache is from wondering how to convince you I’m wet and wanting.” Angie leaned up on one elbow and held her hand out to Cam. “See? I’m shaking because I want you. I want you to touch me in love and lust and want and need. Not for any other reason.”
He dipped his head and ran his hand up under her night rail, toward the apex of her thighs. Each time he stroked her body, the fine hairs under his fingers stood on end and her skin stung with arousal. Her pussy was damp. Her juices were gradually coating the tops of her thighs. Angie took in a large, tremulous breath and squeaked as Cam ran one finger around the back on her knee.
“T…tickles.”
He grinned. “I know.”
“Cruel.” She tried to squirm away, and Cam held her in place by putting one hand on her tummy.
“Always.” He moved his hand a few inches lower and extended one finger toward her clit. As his nail gently scraped over the sensitive nub, Angie screamed in pleasure and arched upward. The rush of heat that rolled over her, combined with the exquisite pain of that touch, sent her to the very edge of the abyss where her climax would overtake her, and she would tumble into the sensations of orgasmic bliss.
Only the pressure of his palm held her down. Only the warning of “No” stopped her from coming. She bit her lip and forced herself not to rub her thighs together.
“If you try to make yourself climax, I’ll tie you,” Cam warned her.
Did he really think that was a deterrent? Angie sighed, and he chuckled as he continued his exploration of the contours of her leg.
“Good things come to those who wait.”
“And waiting is not a good thing when you want to come,” Angie said. “Ah, for fuck’s sake, please.” His hand had reached her damp thighs, and she shivered in a good way. Did he realize what he was doing to her? Of course he did. She’d guess this Cam was aware of everything he did, in the same way as the other one was.
“Begging?”
“You bet. Begging, pleading, ah yes, so fucking good.” She writhed on the cover as yet again he used his fingers to bring her to the edge of a climax and then stopped. It was enough to bring tears to her eyes.
“I love to watch you like this,” Cam said and blew on her clit. “Do not come, not yet.” He nipped her thigh and laughed softly as she opened her eyes and stared at him in annoyance. “Oh so wet, oh so aroused and yes, oh so cross with me. Now where were we?”
“You talk too much. I want to come. I bet you do as well.” Angie reached down toward his cock.
Cam moved so fast she had no time to react. Wherever he’d hidden the ties, she had no idea, but before she could say “Regency romance,” or “cock ahoy,” he’d spread her arms and legs wide and fastened them.
She huffed as the bed dipped. Now what?
Here she was, unable to move, her nightie—no night rail—bunched up around her waist, her pussy on show and her boobs covered, horny as hell, and he was sauntering away from her as if she held no interest to him whatsoever.
Bastard. Angie watched as he moved toward a tallboy and opened the top drawer. She couldn’t see what he took out until he turned back and faced her.
Her heart did a weird flip-flop. The dagger he held glinted in the light of the candles on the mantle, and the flames in the fire helped to create strange phallic patterns on the wall behind him. Angie gulped and Cam chuckled.
“And what shall I do with this?” He held the dagger by the handle and slowly lowered it toward her. “Do you trust me, Angelina?”
The tip touched her clit. She froze as the cold steel warmed.
“Do you?”
****
Did she? Cam held his breath as he let his dagger just touch her skin. He knew he would never harm her, and so did she. Or, he amended, she had. Who knew what ideas she had now? His talk with the doctor had resulted in the decision to do as he thought fit. Doctor Taylor had on reflection decided that the adage “nothing ventured, nothing gained” could well be what was needed in this present scenario. Though he doubted the good doctor had knife play i
n mind when he said it.
“Tell me now, lady-mine, or I stop. Stop everything, and we both know that even if you make yourself cry in pleasure, it never measures up to what we achieve together. So, what is it to be?” He lifted the tip, happy to see the way she gasped and her pupils widened. That was a sign of her disappointment, although she didn’t voice her dismay. Cam lowered the dagger again and ran the flat edge across her tight little nub, and into her wetness. He was careful not to break the skin, just to tease and torture a little. By the way her pulse jumped and her breathing became ever more erratic, it seemed he succeeded.
Up until that point, Cam had never understood what the poets meant by “time stood still,” or even “the air waited to hear the response,” but now he did. Never the most patient of men, he held his tongue and made sure to look her straight in the eyes. They were cloudy with what he hoped was desire.
She tested the restraints on her arms, but kept the lower half of her body still. Cam chuckled. She might not remember their play, but her subconscious seemed to.
He mentally counted twenty seconds in his head and lifted his dagger. Without looking away from her, he lifted the glistening tip to his mouth and licked the feminine juices from it.
“So, it seems we stop.” He put the dagger down on the cabinet top, and shrugged. “Ah well.”
“Bastard, noooo.” Angie tugged at all four restraints. “Shit, Cam, I need to come.”
He shook his head. “You need to have your mouth washed out. That language is not becoming for a lady.” He stood up and walked into the bathing chamber.
“What?” she shouted after him. “You wouldn’t fucking dare.”
Cam grinned to himself, and made a point of noisily swirling the water he poured from the ewer into a goblet. “You know better than that, lady-mine.” He picked up the goblet and walked back into the bedchamber. “Drink this.” He held the glass to her lips.
Angie shut her mouth and shook her head.
Cam pinched her nose hard, and she opened her mouth. He poured the contents of the goblet into it. “Swallow that.” He held her mouth closed and massaged her throat.
She spluttered and swallowed and he released her. “Never, ever dare me. Next time it will be soap.”
Tears streamed down her face. “Sadist.”
He nodded. “If the need arises. Now make yourself come.”
“Pardon?” Angelina sounded as if she couldn’t believe what she’d heard. “Come? How on earth?” She looked from him to her hands and feet, still outstretched and fastened tightly. “As much as I wish I could, I haven’t mastered thought transference yet.”
Sometimes she did talk in riddles. Cam untied her left hand and caught it on the upswing, a few inches before it made contact with his face.
“Naughty.” He flicked her nub with one fingernail and she moaned.
“Yes, more.”
“No. Do you want to remain tied whilst I bring you to the edge? Over and over until you are so exhausted but not replete? You know I can, and if it is warranted, I will. The sight of you aroused and ready to fall, but unable to, is one that is guaranteed to make my pego slick with my own desire. Then to fill your dark, secret hole and still hold you off whilst I enjoy all the delights that can bring me, and still leave you unfulfilled. Is that what you want?”
She paled and swallowed. “No, My Lord.”
“Then keep your hand to yourself and use it to make yourself come.”
She nodded and, within a second, two fingers were inside her cunt and one pressed on her nub.
“One moment.” Cam picked up the dagger again. “I think this will help both of us.” He slid the sharp point toward the bunched up material around her waist very slowly, and circled her navel. “Stay still.” He waited until she stopped rubbing herself, let the tip of the dagger enter the erotic dip where her belly button hid, and pressed just enough for Angie to feel it.
“Good girl, lady-mine. Shall I press harder?”
“No…no.” There was no fear or outraged demand in her voice, just a confidence he would adhere to her wishes. Her eyes were once again cloudy, and she appeared calm and serene. He could, and would, soon change that.
Cam held the weapon where it was, just long enough to assume she would wonder if he had heard her, before he lifted it an inch or so away from her skin.
“Pity, for I would love to scribe you. Ah well, I’ll do this instead.” He pushed the dagger under the roll of material around her waist, and with one swift upward thrust, slit it through. The two halves of the night rail slipped to each side, and slowly her breasts were exposed to his view.
“Now,” Cam purred the word. “Is that not such a beautiful sight? Two luscious breasts, all ready to be feasted upon. Two nipples begging to be pinched.” He lowered his voice. “And one cunt desperate to be filled. Sadly, unless you do so, it will be disappointed.” He traced a heart over her belly with the dagger, without breaking her skin. “’Tis all up, or down, to you.”
Angie’s eyes narrowed as she stared at his hand. He mistrusted the look. Cam put the dagger out of reach of her free hand, kneeled back on his heels, and stroked his cock over his pantaloons. It was so hard not to pull his cock out over his waistband and thrust it into her.
However, he would not. He wanted to see her make herself come. To watch her frustration as she only had one hand and nothing else to aid her. It was a favorite game of theirs, and who knew, it might jog her memory. Instead he continued to caress his staff, and sat, watching her, as once more she sunk several fingers inside herself.
This time he didn’t stop her as her breathing once more became fast and uneven, and her skin gained a rosy-hued blush that covered her from quim to forehead.
“I ahhh, oh…no, no, Cam… Help me…I have to take…” She screamed long and hard, such an eerie noise it chilled him to the bone. Her body went rigid, those clever, busy fingers stilled and slipped from inside her and she patted the covers restlessly “I can’t, I don’t, I…”
He stumbled off the bed, undid her ties and cradled her head. “Angelina, stay with me. Angelina, wake up. ’Twas only the little death, the one you love. The one you need and want. Stay with me.” He raised his voice and tapped her cheek. “Angelina. Open your eyes, now.”
****
Cam was shouting at her. Tugging her arm and patting her cheek. His voice was harsh as he called to her to come back to him. He moved from side to side within her vision, and then there were two of him.
Both Cams nodded. “Come to me…”
“No, you must come back to me now.”
One Cam faded. “Soon, love, very soon.”
The other got brighter.
“Lady-mine.”
Angie opened her eyes to see Cam looming over her as he patted her cheek and spoke to her in that low, insistent voice she’d heard. “Angelina, if you have such a prolonged little death, dare we ever get you to that state again?”
Angie blinked. “That was all from a self-induced climax? Sheesh, what on earth will happen when you give me one?”
“I don’t think we’ll try and find out yet.”
Damn it. I want to see him naked and preferably in me. Angie thought for a moment. “Then can I help you?” How on earth would a Regency lady say jerk you off? She bit back a snigger. “Gain your release?”
He stood up next to the bed. His cock was at Angie’s eye level and strained the material that covered it.
“No.” Cam spoke in a flat, unemotional voice, although the tic at the corner of his eye gave lie to his supposed lack of emotion.
“Argh, men. Don’t be so bloody stubborn. Why the hell not? I’m sure I can restrain myself from coming if I take you in hand. Or mouth, come to think of it.” Actually, she thought nothing of the sort, but Angie had no intention of admitting that. “Don’t be so bloody noble.”
He smiled reluctantly. “I am noble,” Cam pointed out. “And I want nothing to hinder your recovery.”
“You not coming will upset m
e. I’m sated and you’re not.”
“I can cope.”
“I can’t. So if I can’t help you, help yourself.” She propped herself up on the pillows. “Here. So I can see.”
“Taking charge, lady-mine?”
“You bet. Sometimes you just have to, and suffer the consequences later.”
He was silent and then slowly nodded.
“True. All of it.”
He put his thumbs under the waistband of his pantaloons and slowly began to pull them downward.
Goose bumps dotted her skin, and sweat beaded every one of them.
Chapter Six
Cam concentrated on Angelina’s rosy face as he inched his pantaloons down over his cock, and his hard, aroused staff sprang free. He took even more time before he toed both his pantaloons and house slippers off and left them where they landed. The look of concentration on her face, the way she once more licked her lips, and her soft intake of breath, were ambrosia to him. Deliberately, he circled the tip of his staff with his index finger and coated it with his essence, slicking the liquid over it.
Angelina moaned and swayed toward him.
“Don’t move, lady-mine. Just watch. Soon my pego will be slick with your essence as well as mine.” She stopped dead, and he thought “if looks could kill” was a most apt expression.
“Bully.” She lowered her lashes and then looked back up at him. “Sir.”
“You know better. Now, hush, or I will forget what I’m doing.” There was little chance of that, as Cam continued to stroke himself whilst they talked. He was nigh on ready to come, and come hard. However, as he enjoyed watching her watching him so much, and knowing she was as aroused as he, but unable to come without his permission, the sadist in him slowed things down.
“If you touch yourself or me, I will discover if I enjoy spanking or not.” Cam lifted his fingers from his cock and rested them on his thighs. “It is said spanking plus climax torture is exquisite agony.”
A Dom for Christmas Page 5