Two Doms For Angel

by Holly Roberts

  “It will be fine, sir.”

  His hand went to the silky water-covered skin of her chin, and raised her head until she looked back at him. His tone was harsh.

  “You will not lie to me. I’m here because of a lie by omission and I deserve your honesty.”

  “Yes, sir. Please. I have need of conditioner for my hair.”

  Zach left the shower grabbing the items off the counter.

  “Turn around.” He needed to accomplish this quickly.

  She complied without question and Zach began the chore of unraveling the sodden mass of tangles. It seemed like forever before his fingers ran uninhibited through the strands, so heavy in his hands. He refused to acknowledge the tightening in his balls and stirring of his cock while his fingers continued to glide through the wet silk long after he should have stopped. For a few moments, he forgot whom she belonged to and enjoyed the sensual feel of wet hair sliding over his dick. He imagined wrapping it around his wrist and bringing her mouth to his balls to suck and lick before burying his cock deep in her throat. He almost groaned out loud.

  Nathan knew about his hair fetish and probably laughed with glee over how he would react. He couldn’t kill the man if she loved him but he could knock out a few teeth.

  “Close your eyes.” He directed the water to her hair and washed the conditioner away. “Why the name Angel?”

  “Hooriya means angel in Arabic. Master likes it.”

  “Yes, I imagine he does.”

  She flinched but offered no reply.

  He needed to keep his emotions under wraps and stop with his snide tone. Grabbing a towel, he silently dried her hair.

  A long, hooded robe lay on the counter in the outer room. Angel walked from the bathroom and gathered the robe, placing it over her head and pulling the hood over her hair. He dressed in the same clothes he’d worn earlier.

  “I’ll escort you to Monroe’s suite, and then he and I will talk.” He could almost see the tension pulsing in waves from her body but she didn’t say a word.

  Taking her hand, he opened the door trying to decide what time it was. He knew it had to be at least two hours since he took her to the private room.

  Damian stood at the end of the hallway, putting his hand out as Zach approached. “Monroe asked me to give you this.”

  Zach’s eyes narrowed, looking at the folded piece of paper like it was poisonous snake. The lighting was low but he could still make out the short message.

  My friend,

  I trust you with my life but more importantly I trust you with hers.

  I will be home soon and this will work out.

  N.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Is there something I can do?” Damian didn’t try to hide the concern in his voice.

  Zach gained control of his rage quickly. “No. Angel and I will go straight to the suite. When did he leave?” He felt Angel trying to release his grip but his fingers tightened painfully. He wasn’t letting go.

  “He shared a few techniques and answered questions for about thirty minutes.” Damian looked back and forth between them. “He gathered his things, gave me the note, and left. Is there a problem I need to know about?”

  Zach ran his unencumbered hand through his hair, giving himself a moment to control his frustration. “No, I’m still planning dinner with Lydia, and your new daughter.”

  “Lydia will be happy to hear that.”

  “We’ll be heading back to Nathaniel’s estate early tomorrow, just send me an email when you have a date. I’m at loose ends for a while so my schedule is open. Angel will accompany me.”

  “I’ll make arrangements with Lydia and let you know.” Relief was evident in Damian’s voice.

  Zach remained silent as he and Angel made their way to the suite. He turned to her when the front door clicked and the outside world no longer intruded.

  “Your master had everything well-planned, and now I’m planning to get drunk. It would be best if you went to bed.”

  “Yes, sir, but my hair needs to be dried.”

  He could see it worried her to ask, which only exasperated him more. “Do what you need to do. I’m not making you go to your room; I just think you would be more comfortable. I’m not always pleasant company when drinking.”

  He sighed with the wary look she gave him and couldn’t help his self-deprecating laugh, “I would never harm you but I tend to get moody, and my best behavior goes down the drain. You have nothing to fear or your…Master would not leave you in my care. I’ll see you in the morning at breakfast.”

  “Yes, sir.” She walked into Nathaniel’s bedroom looking like a forlorn child.

  He heard the soft click of the door and made his way to the mini bar. He needed a mind-numbing dose of liquid fire. Decisions, decisions; Jack or Jose?

  He sat on the couch, placing the bottle of whiskey on the side table with a tumbler and poured his first shot. No chaser, just the raw burn making its way down his throat. The alcohol seeped into his system and the dull throb in his knee lessened. He was surprised it held up so well for the exhibition and he knew Marguerite’s tender loving care made a world of difference.

  Three shots in; he saw the light under Angel’s door turn off. Four shots in, and his brain was no longer swimming in misery about the circumstance Monroe had placed him in. His thoughts drifted, reliving the feel of Angel’s wet hair sliding through his hands. Five shots and he lost count. Eventually he lost consciousness.

  The screams were in another language and his foggy brain had trouble sorting out where he was. Who the hell was screaming, and what the hell was he supposed to do about it? One thought brought him back to the land of the living: Angel.

  The world tilted as he managed to get up from the couch and stumble into Nathan’s room. The screaming stopped suddenly and he used the door jamb to steady himself. Angel sat straight up in bed. Tremors racked her body, and with the dim light from the outer room, he saw when her nightmare world returned to reality and she recognized him. Her eyes followed him when he stumbled closer and eventually fell onto the mattress, landing almost on top of her when the edge hit his legs before he was ready.

  She scrambled quickly to the side, trying to get away, but his arms grabbed the soft flowing material of her nightgown and pulled her tightly to his body.

  She screamed again but his hand came up and covered her mouth and he spoke huskily against her ear.

  “I’m not going to hurt you Angel. I’m drunk, not a monster. Relax and go back to sleep. Monroe told me about your nightmares. I’m not going anywhere, though I probably couldn’t even if I wanted to. Rest and let me sleep off the alcohol. I’ll be good in a few hours.”

  His hand left her mouth, and slowly, the stiffness in her body receded when he made no move to touch her further. Their breathing slowed almost in unison and eventually Zach knew nothing more.

  Bright light seeping through his closed eyelids caused him to wince. Squinting, he managed to open his eyes but quickly closed them again. His foggy mind flashed with snap shot images of the evening before. And, he vaguely remembered why he was waking up in Monroe’s bed. A bed Angel was no longer occupying.

  He groaned and opened his eyes completely, looking around the room. His gaze rested on the nightstand; a glass and two pills sat next to a bottle of Ibuprofen. He didn’t question their appearance, just grateful that relief would be coming soon.

  Sitting up slightly, he managed to swallow the pills. Then he saw her.

  She was kneeling by the bedroom door, in nothing but her underwear: her knees spread, and her hands held behind her back.

  “What the hell?” He didn’t care if she loved the bastard, Monroe was a dead man.

  She didn’t look up at his words, just kept her head down. How long had she been there? This fucking slave shit was going to kill him and he refused to play this end of the dominance game. He rolled from the bed and walked over in his bare feet, thankful he still had pants on.

  “Angel, look at me.
”

  Her reddened eyes came up, the path of her tears leaving small pink trails down her cheeks. She didn’t say a word but her lips trembled.

  He barely held back a groan from his throbbing knee, which was stiff and sore, as he sank to his knees in front of her.

  “Angel.” His hand went to her cheek, his thumb wiped at a lone tear making its way down the rosy curve; her skin, like satin; her eyelashes wet, with the incredibly blue of her eyes begging for something he couldn’t give. He couldn’t control the multiple thoughts running through his mind but she needed to understand one thing.

  “I’m not Monroe; I’m not your master.”

  Panic swirled in the blue depths and he chose his next words carefully.

  “I’m not leaving you but we need to establish some boundaries for both of us. Did you have a contract with Monroe?”

  She took a breath and some of her panic receded. “Yes, sir.”

  “Would it be possible for me to read it?”

  “There is a copy at the estate.”

  “Good. Have you eaten breakfast?”

  “No.”

  “I would like to dine quickly in the suite and then get on the road. If you don’t mind ordering, I need strong coffee and toast. I’ll shower and be ready to eat in twenty minutes. Can you be ready then?”

  Relief was apparent in her expression.

  “Yes sir.” She hesitated. “What should I wear?”

  He ran his hand through his tousled hair. “Whatever you’re comfortable in.”

  He placed his finger against her lips when she tried to answer. “My name is Zach. I want you to say, ‘Yes, Zach.’”

  Her voice whispered, “Yes, Zach.”

  The sound went straight to his groin, “Thank you. Now, somehow, I need to get off the floor and I have a feeling my knee won’t make it.”

  It was like a bullet went off in the room. She was off the floor and using her arm and body to help him up. He might have commented on the unlikeliness of her being able to keep him from landing on his ass, but her breasts next to his face caused his cock to swell larger, and words were momentarily beyond him. As a Dom, he refused to allow a woman’s body to have control over his mind. Angel caused all his training to fly out the window and he knew if he tried to speak at that moment he would have sounded like a babbling school boy.

  Her hand immediately left his arm as soon as he was upright. He turned and limped from the room, making his way to the shower, cursing his stiff dick and hoping his hand, warm water, and soap would help it stay in line. His hangover didn’t seem to deflate his raging erection.

  Chapter Nineteen

  There were so many questions running through his head but his brain froze again when he saw her choice of clothing. The white pants were loose fitting, almost flowing over her lower body. The navy blue top was cut high at the neck, and fell over the curve of her breasts and past her waist. A white scarf covered her head and hid her glorious hair, somehow secured under the glossy material. Though she covered her body, nothing but a complete facial mask would hide her beauty. The color of her blouse accented the blue of her eyes and the smooth plains of her exotic face were defined by the edge of material against her skin.

  “Is my attire appropriate, sir?”

  He frowned in displeasure and her hands went to the knot of the scarf. His hand met the top of hers, covering her trembling fingers, and stopped their movement.

  “What is my name?”

  She hesitated but then replied, “Zach.”

  “You look lovely but I want you using my name.”

  “Yes…Zach.”

  “Thank you. I called Stephens, and he’ll pick us up in fifteen minutes. I need a bit of food and coffee before traveling.”

  She looked at him for a moment, “Master doesn’t always allow me to cover my hair.”

  “Do you feel more comfortable with it covered?”

  “Yes, sir…Zach.”

  Her quick save made him smile. He understood Monroe’s reasoning; it almost hurt to see her hair covered but Zach wanted her comfortable. “You look fine.” More than fine.

  They ate quickly, saying little. He knew she cast furtive glances his way while he enjoyed toast and fruit along with the caffeine. Freshly showered, with the Ibuprofen kicking in, and his stomach filled, he felt much better and more in command of his circumstances. They needed to talk but he wanted to read the contract first and decide how the next few weeks would proceed.

  The smile and hug Angel bestowed upon Stephens startled Zach but not as much as the smile and embrace Stephens returned. The dower old coot had a soft spot, but then again so did Zach, and he felt jealous that Stephens received such warm regard.

  Zach remained quiet during the drive, wondering when Monroe would return. He also remembered Monroe giving him carte blanche when it came to Angel. Just the thought had his cock responding and he shifted in the seat cursing himself for wanting to hide his erection. Monroe needed to return quickly.

  ***

  The contract was short and straightforward. It was different than the few Zach had signed for his D/s relationships. There were no limits, soft or hard, and anger tightened in his gut. The contract stated Monroe decided all limits. It was complete bullshit. Zach knew Monroe loved edge play and even crossed into RACK. The thought of Monroe— hell, the thought of anyone—having that control over Angel made his blood boil. What the hell was the matter with him? Yesterday he verbalized some of his internal feelings about Monroe, to Monroe, and today he wanted to kill the man. Again.

  He needed to speak with Angel.

  After searching the house, he finally broke down and asked Marguerite.

  “Hiciste mi grito preciosa dulce.”

  The rapid fire words were too fast for Zach to follow though it was obvious by her tone that Marguerite was angry.

  “I’m catching part of what you’re saying but…”

  “You make her cry, mi hombre fuerte grande.”

  “Ah, hell.” His hand went through his hair. “I’m at a loss, Marguerite. I may be big and strong, but I don’t have a clue how to handle a slave. This is Monroe’s doing, not mine.”

  “Signor Monroe make her happy. She smile, but she no smile when she come here. Now she no smile with you. Her soul lost, it returned. Signor say you help to bring back more.”

  “Well, I’m glad he told you because he told me nothing.”

  “She love you, she love Signor. She ask Marguerite muchas preguntas. She tiene imágenes”

  “Questions and pictures about what?”

  “Mi gran hombre estúpido.”

  “I feel stupid but why me?”

  Her eyes actually rolled and Zach took a minute to process their conversation.

  “Where are the pictures?”

  “Her room.”

  “Where is she right now?”

  “El jardín con lágrimas.”

  “English, please.” His frustration was at its limit and his voice was hard.

  “El garden with tears, hombre estúpido.”

  Without another word, Zach left the kitchen and made his way to Monroe’s bedroom. He had knocked on the door earlier with no answer. This time he entered without bothering to knock.

  The room had Monroe written all over it, and he allowed his eyes to travel around the opulent surroundings. It was hard not to notice the restraints at the corners of the four-poster king-sized mega bed. The bindings actually surprised Zach. It was unlike Monroe to play anywhere but his dungeon, or when he was working his art in the photo studio or some club. Zach walked over to the double shuttered doors on the east side of the room and pulled them open.

  The room beyond was feminine and obviously belonged to Angel. The bed was also king-sized but covered by a gauzy, soft green canopy. His eyes traveled then stopped on the far wall.

  Framed pictures covered the area. Zach walked closer. Monroe’s Shibari.

  But these pictures focused only on Zach. He’d never seen them before. He’d tho
ught he’d seen all of Melody’s and Monroe’s creations. In these photos, Zach’s face was uncovered, which was odd because he never realized they were taken. Even more surprisingly, he didn’t feel angry.

  The art itself was incredible and the photographs bridged the years. The early ones showed Zach’s inexperience, but they were somehow bolder than Zach remembered. The later ones, bolder still, as Zach’s dominance matured.

  “He freed me as did you.”

  Zach turned. Waves of cascading windblown hair surrounded her body. His eyes traveled every inch, down then back up, finally looking deep into the ocean-blue depths of her eyes. He had to mentally shake himself in order to speak.

  “I’ve never seen these pictures.”

  “He gave me a room down the hall but my nightmares grew worse and he moved me in here. That is when he gave me the pictures.”

  “Were you his slave then?”

  “No.”

  “Why are you his slave now?”

  “Because it works for us and I love him.”

  “But how do you know something else wouldn’t work for you?”

  “I tried. It did not.”

  “Were the pictures here when you moved into the room?”

  “Yes.”

  Zach turned back and looked at the wall again. “Why would he have pictures of me in here?”

  “You must talk to Master.”

  “But you know the answer?”

  “Not all of it, no.”

  “You and I need to talk about the contract.” He turned back but his knee gave slightly and he hobbled for a moment.

  “I will get what you need for your knee from Marguerite if you will sit on the bed.”

  He smiled. “Sitting on your bed is not a good idea. I’ll come downstairs and let you treat me.”

  Zach took a forward step but the muscles surrounding his injury picked that moment to spasm. He couldn’t stifle his groan. Her soft shoulder quickly wedged under his arm.

  “Christ, this is a bad idea,” he said in exasperation.

  Angel disengaged herself and he lay back on the bed. She picked up the house phone on the nightstand. Fluent Spanish came from her delectable lips as she requested items that were beyond Zach’s linguistic comprehension. He couldn’t help himself and sank further into the soft pillows.