Flashback (2 page)

She tried.

Eric braced himself on his elbow beside her,
seemingly content to let her establish for herself that she was
completely helpless. “Lucky for you,” he said quietly when she
finally stilled. “I’m feeling like being a good friend.” He flicked
a look over her. “You could change my mind if you keep wiggling
that ass at me or making that muffled moan.”

Joanna protested this and he caught his
breath in apparent pleasure. “Yes, that one. It drives me crazy.”
He lifted his hand deliberately from her mouth and Joanna pressed
her lips together. She was determined to remain silent instead of
exciting him. He slid his hand over her, then cupped her breast. He
toyed with her nipple with his finger and thumb.

Joanna remained silent and still with an
effort, choosing to glare at him instead.

He looked down at her. “Going to be quiet?
Because I like the screamers, I have to say.”

That was all the encouragement she needed.
Joanna nodded.

Eric nodded, his tone turning conversational.
“So, here’s the thing. I think you two have your wires crossed, and
I want to help you sort things out.”

“Why?” Joanna asked, deliberately keeping her
voice low.

“Because Mike and I go back. Way back.” He
frowned. “And I owe him.” His eyes glinted as he looked at her.
“Plus I don’t think you like bondage quite the same way I do.”

“I like it with Mike.”

He lifted a brow. “I thought you were the one
who wanted to be shared.”

“Maybe it turned out I liked the idea better
than the reality.”

Eric nodded. “Maybe Mike doesn’t like the
idea
or
the reality.”

Joanna didn’t know what to say to that.

Eric rolled closer, his face just inches from
hers. “He tried to give you what you wanted, maybe what you needed,
even knowing that it wouldn’t work for him. In fact, it’s killing
him to see you shared.”

Joanna swallowed. “He really did give me to
you.”

Eric nodded. “Yup.” He winked at her. “And
I’m such a prince among men that I want to help you get him
back.”

Joanna made a skeptical sound, despite
herself. “Why don’t I believe that?”

“Naughty Joanna. You should. I’m a great
guy.” He met her gaze steadily, teasing but not really. “Last
chance.”

Joanna remembered how Eric wanted to take her
from the rear, up the rear, and spoke with care. “I don’t think we
like the same things.”

“No. I’m afraid you’re right.” Eric pursed
his lips. “Although we both like Mike.” He made an appreciative
purr in an undertone, one that made Joanna’s eyes widen.

What did she really know about this man,
other than the fact that he was Mike’s friend? What did she know
about his history with Mike? She didn’t even know where they’d met,
or how long ago.

When Eric smiled, it seemed very stupid to be
tied to a bed in his presence while Mike was gone.

But then, Mike wouldn’t have left her here if
he hadn’t trusted his friend.

She looked at Eric. He was completely
unpredictable, as far as she could see. A frisson of fear passed
through her. What if Mike had been wrong?

What if she never got out of this place?

Eric was watching her closely. Joanna wished
he didn’t have such a hard-on. It would have been easier to trust
him, then.

But in a way, she had very little left to
lose. Eric held all the cards, which was probably the way he had
planned it. Joanna fought her sense that she was stepping into a
trap.

“Okay. Maybe I believe you,” she said with
care. “What’s your plan?”

* * *

Athena spun to face the Count and pushed the
door of the hidden cabinet shut behind her. She forced a smile,
feeling guilty.

But why? Why else had he created this room
than for her to discover its similarities? Who else would know to
look?

She met the Count’s gaze steadily. “I met her
the first time in this room, or the one that inspired it.”

“I’ll bet she sat there,” the Count said,
gesturing to the very seat Athena’s grandmother had occupied. He
smiled in reminiscence. How well had he known her grandmother? How
intimately?

She was keenly aware that they were alone
together, that the room carried a charge of reminiscence. The
memory of that first night hovered at the edge of her thoughts, the
memory of that first taste of pleasure made her feel hot and wet.
She tingled and found herself stealing a glance at him.

The Count was so trim and muscular still, as
if no time had passed at all. He still moved with that catlike ease
she found so mesmerizing. Power and grace. Authority.

Discipline.

Athena shivered.

But she wasn’t a teenager anymore. She
certainly innocent or easily led. She didn’t idolize him any more.
She’d come to him on this night because she wanted him. It was
simple. He was the man who haunted her and the only one she
wanted.

For this one night.

Sex would eliminate her fascination. It
always did.

The Count sighed. “And she would have sipped
tea out of one of those bone china cups, the plain white ones with
just a line of gold on the rim.” He smiled quickly, secretly. “I’ll
bet she told you that you were too much trouble and that she didn’t
have time for the likes of you.”

“How do you know that?”

“She told everybody that. It was bullshit.
She only allowed the people she found interesting to be part of her
life.” He cast her a quick look. “You came by that trait honestly
at least.”

Athena found herself smiling. Another
increment of tension slid out of her shoulders. She was with
someone who understood her, for once. “Which one? The ability to
bullshit or the need to have interesting people in my life?”

The Count chuckled, a heat dawning in his
eyes that made Athena’s mouth go dry. He didn’t answer her. Instead
he moved closer. Athena could have evaded him or backed into the
wall, but she held her ground.

She trembled at his approach though, her
yearning almost tangible.

“I do like this outfit,” he murmured,
dropping a fingertip to her shoulder. Athena didn’t jump or
otherwise reveal how his touch sent a thrill through her. “You look
best in gold.”

“Thank you.” Athena knew he was right.

She was glad the Count was responding to the
visual feast she’d created of herself. Her power was in her looks.
That had been true when she was seventeen and it was still true
now. She’d chosen the outfit on purpose, knowing it suited her. Her
boots were black leather, tall and spike-heeled. Her favorite kind.
Her skirt was slim, showing her figure to advantage, and she wore a
black velvet corset that pushed her breasts to prominence. It
didn’t cover her nipples and she had rouged them slightly. Over the
corset, she wore a shimmering blouse of gold organza. It was both
metallic and sheer, surrounding her in a halo of gold yet hiding
nothing from his view. She felt like a goddess and the Count’s
appreciative scrutiny made her simmer.

It had been a long time since she had played
the submissive, but she found appeal in the memory.

Maybe the scene had only been hot because it
had been her first time.

Or maybe it was because of the Count
himself.

It was time to find out.

He strolled behind her, running a lazy
fingertip across the back of her shoulder blades, savoring the
moment. This was his gift, to coax the embers to flames, to make
the burn long and hot and fiery. Athena took a deep breath and
released it, letting him do what he did so well.

Enjoying it.

Even through her blouse, Athena could feel
the heat of his touch. She swore she could feel his breath. She
closed her eyes and reveled in his slow caress. That fingertip
would take forever to reach her other shoulder, burning a trail
across her flesh.

Her sex was already thumping with the
certainty of how this evening would end. Athena could see it
clearly: she’d come to him, she’d submit to him, and he’d punish
her once again, as only he could do. It was familiar. It was
seductive. It would be wonderful.

In a way, she welcomed the simplicity of it
all. Being submissive took all the choices from her hands. It
wasn’t up to her. She wasn’t responsible. She didn’t have to defend
anybody or protect the club or choose her loyalties. She was a pawn
and a gateway to the Count’s pleasure, and she knew that he would
ensure her own.

At that realization, the resistance slipped
out of her.

Her grandmother had given her to the Count so
he could discipline her. On this night, the bargain would still
stand.

“She knew you were just like her,” the Count
murmured, bending to touch his lips to her shoulder. His kiss was
reverent, the waft of his breath across her neck electrifying.
Athena shuddered and he chuckled. “My little dove,” he whispered,
and for this night, it was true. He still wore the same cologne, a
rich masculine scent that Athena responded to instinctively.

“How was I like her?” she asked and her voice
was husky.

The Count touched his lips to her neck, then
just below her ear. Athena stifled the urge to moan. “Hungry,” he
whispered into her ear, making her shiver. “Hungry for every
sensation and willing to do whatever was necessary to get it.”

He caught his breath and folded his hands
around her shoulders, holding her captive before him. It was a
possessive touch, the tightness of his grip revealing his own
desire. “You are lovely, Athena,” he murmured.

It was the concession she had wanted from
him, but upon hearing the words, they were not enough. Athena
wanted to be more than beautiful. She wanted him to want her for
more than her looks.

Her tone hardened as she stepped out of his
grip.

She hated that he let her go so easily. “That
was the only reason she let me stay. She thought she could make
money off me.” She crossed the room and drained the last of her
champagne, turning to find him watching her.

“But she never did, did she?”

Athena knew her glance was challenging. “She
charged you, didn’t she?”

The Count shook his head and she didn’t know
what to make of that. Was it true?

He strolled closer. “Pauline let you stay
because you intrigued her. It was always that way with her. She
liked the intellectual challenge.”

“She ran a bordello, not a chess club.”

“But she said the mind was - and is - the
only sex organ of importance.” His voice dropped. “She let you stay
because of your beauty, and because of your intelligence.”

Athena sensed that they weren’t talking about
her grandmother anymore. “Funny she never mentioned it.” There was
a challenge in her voice and she looked the Count directly in the
eye.

He smiled a little. “It’s not funny at all.
The strong seldom reveal their vulnerabilities by choice.”

Was he talking about himself? Was it hard for
him to admit that he needed her?

Did
he need her?

Athena searched his gaze, seeking some clue
that his pursuit of her was about more than sex, but couldn’t find
one. All she saw was the intensity, the heat of his desire, not its
root.

But his lust fed her own, all the same. There
was this alchemy between them, this attraction that seemed to feed
on itself. The air sizzled between them, and she felt once more
that magnetic draw to him and the pleasure that only he could
give.

Could she exhaust it by having him again?
Could she destroy his power over her with sex? Athena hated that
she was vulnerable to him. She had to know, and she had to know on
this night.

The Count took a lazy step closer. He looked
away, put down his glass, then took another stealthy step. He
didn’t fool Athena: he was stalking her, just as he had all those
years ago.

And it still thrilled her to be his prey. She
could admit that to herself. Her heart was pounding for no reason
beyond the presence of the Count and his burning gaze.

“Should I call you Mr. Rossini again?” she
demanded, wanting him to know that she recognized his ploy.

“Don’t tempt fate, little dove. You’ve
already been naughty enough.” He paused beside her, lifted a hand
and trailed his fingertips from her cheek down the side of her
neck. His touch left her hot and shivery at the same time, kindling
a lust within her that had never really died. Maybe it just hadn’t
been truly satisfied. Maybe the second time would sate her
forever.

Maybe she was a fool to have come here.

“Don’t think you’re going to punish me.”

He smiled, a dark little smile that made her
heart leap. His voice was hard. “Don’t think you’ll leave here
without my having done so.”

She might have stepped away, made him work
for it, but she realized that the Count was watching her
nipples.

They had tightened into taut points,
revealing her arousal.

“You have no secrets from me,” he whispered,
then reached for the top button on her sheer blouse. “I knew from
the first time I saw you in my class. So beautiful. So defiant. You
needed to be taught to obey.”

“You like innocence,” she said and her voice
was breathless.

He laughed lightly. “You were never innocent,
Athena. You were always wicked.” His words surprised her into
silence. He moved slowly, giving her time to choose as his fingers
closed over the button.

Athena had to know. She stood her ground and
ignored the lump in her throat. He’d have to see her racing pulse
at her throat. He’d have to smell her wet sex. The Count missed
nothing.

He’d know how much she wanted him.

As soon as he worked the top button free, she
knew that their course was set. She could feel the warmth of his
hands and was aware of the weight of his gaze. He worked slowly,
unhurriedly, taking a lifetime to unfasten each sparkling button.
Then he parted the fronts of the blouse, his eyes glittering as he
considered her breasts.