Mastered (The Enforcers #1) (33 page)

He regarded her solemnly. “Have no doubt, Angel. You
are
my pampered princess. But tonight, I intend only to watch, and this
is
very much for me. Just remember your promise to trust me and know that I will never allow you to come to harm, and my night will be fucking perfect.”

As Evangeline languidly soaked in the tub, she pondered the oddity of Drake's last words to her before he'd ushered her into the bedroom and then disappeared, leaving her to heed his instructions.

They seemed in direct contradiction and try as she might, she couldn't come up with a scenario in which, as he'd said, tonight he'd only watch but had followed it with a solemn vow that he would never allow her to come to harm.

The two statements seemed incongruous. Granted, she didn't have much experience with sex, much less kinky, dominant sex or fetishes. She wasn't even sure what they were called or even the differences between a kink and a fetish or if there even was one.

Well, she wasn't going to ruin what promised to be an exciting night by overanalyzing Drake's cryptic words. She was more focused on his reaction to her impassioned statement about wanting to please him, wanting him to teach her to please him and that she wanted to give back at least a small part of all he'd given to her.

That had pleased him immensely. There was no mistaking the wonderment and surprise and yes, even delight over her sincerity. And he'd admitted what she'd already reasoned out on her own, that he had never
had anyone who cared for him, who took care of him and placed his needs above their own. Had anyone ever loved him? Or at least cared deeply for him? Or were the majority of the people in his life manipulative users out to milk him for every cent they could extort?

And what of his family? He'd never spoken of them and he seemed bemused by her close relationship with her parents. In fact, she strongly suspected that he'd felt anger toward them and the fact that she'd given up so much to support them until he'd witnessed firsthand their love and concern for her. He'd even spoken to them himself and after that, she'd never seen that fleeting hint of suppressed anger when she spoke of her family.

“Oh, Drake,” she whispered, her heart aching. “How lonely must it have been to live in a world where no one cared about you? How awful must it be for your worth to be measured by money and social status? Has anyone ever seen the real Drake Donovan? Has no one ever loved the real Drake Donovan?”

If it was the last thing she did, she was going to prove to him that his money didn't mean a damn to her. For that matter, she wished he had none at all because then he would never harbor any doubt as to her reasons for being with him. She would want to be with him, want desperately to submit to him and please him even if he didn't have one cent to his name.

But would he ever truly believe that? Or would some small part of him, deep down, buried under years of cynicism, always be there whispering insidiously in the back of his mind telling him she was no different from all the others?

She idly looked over at the clock on the counter by the sink and realized a full thirty minutes had passed while she contemplated the puzzle that was Drake Donovan. He'd told her to take her time, but he hadn't been specific.
She
had been specific in that this night belonged to him, and the last thing she wanted was to keep him waiting and she still had to dry her hair and position herself accordingly on the bed.

Pushing away all the senseless questions and speculation that had
occupied her time in the tub, she rose, water rushing down her body. She stepped out and first wrapped a towel around her head and then took another to dry her body.

After swabbing as much moisture from her hair as she could with the towel, she sat on the vanity stool and began combing out the long tresses. She sectioned off pieces of her hair and pulled a brush down the length, following it with a blow-dryer.

She wanted to look beautiful, and her hair, when freshly washed, blow-dried and brushed out, was one of her best features. She brushed until it shone and was extremely soft, giving her a windblown look that framed her face and tumbled down her back in layers.

After giving herself one last pat-down with the towel to ensure her entire body was no longer damp, she walked back into the bedroom, relieved that Drake hadn't made his appearance yet.

She crawled on top of the mattress and with a sigh settled in the middle, her head nestled into the mound of pillows. Then she remembered his other directives.

She parted her thighs so that just a hint of the lips of her vagina were visible and then she reached upward to grasp the slats of the headboard.

Even though she was in no way bound, the feeling of being subdued, captive, a prisoner awaiting what would happen next sent delicious waves of pleasure coursing through her body. Her nipples puckered into tight, hard knots and she could feel the dampness between her legs as her clit pulsed and ached, begging for attention.

I intend only to watch.

Again his words floated through her memory, sending a fresh wave of curiosity and confusion through her veins. If he hadn't instructed her to put her hands above her head and hold on to the headboard, she would have assumed he wanted to watch as she masturbated.

And while the first time he'd instructed her to touch herself when they were going to have anal sex had made her self-conscious, she was
beyond that now and was only eager to do his bidding if it pleased him to watch her pleasure herself.

She languidly turned her head when the bedroom door opened and smiled when Drake appeared in the doorway. But her smile froze when she saw he wasn't alone. Behind him walked in an extremely handsome, well-dressed man she judged to be around Drake's age.

Panic scuttled up her spine and some of what she felt must have shown on her face because Drake motioned for the man to stay back as Drake approached the bed. It was then she saw the rope Drake carried.

He sat on the edge of the bed and slid one hand leisurely down her body, his smile warm and reassuring, but his eyes glittered with need.

“Trust me,” he whispered.

And at those two words and the tenderness in his expression, her trepidation dissolved in an instant.

“Oh, I trust you,” she whispered, injecting all the warmth and emotion she felt into her smile.

He took one of her hands and looped the rope around her wrist, securely binding it to the slat she'd held moments earlier. Then he did the same with the other until both hands were tied, rendering her helpless to shield her nudity from the stranger standing a short distance away.

Then Drake leaned over and pressed his lips to her forehead.

“I will never hurt you, Angel, nor would I ever allow another to hurt you. My wish for tonight is to watch another man pleasure you. He is well aware of my boundaries and what I will and won't allow.”

She licked her lips nervously and surprisingly, her initial fear dissipated, replaced by a warm hum of arousal. It was like tasting forbidden fruit. It felt decadently naughty for another man to pleasure her—have sex with her—at Drake's command. And then another thought took hold and guilt surged rawly through her veins.

Her worried gaze found Drake's and she stared helplessly at him, so many questions swirling in her mind. Of all the scenarios she'd
imagined, this hadn't been one of them. Drake was so forbiddingly possessive. She couldn't wrap her mind around him being willing to share his . . . possession . . . with another man.

Drake's gaze softened as he stroked and caressed her breasts, cupping and palming them, thumbing her nipples to hardened peaks.

“You do not betray me, my darling angel. I won't have you thinking it, nor will I allow you to refuse yourself to feel pleasure because I am not the one providing it.”

Her brow furrowed in genuine puzzlement, but evidently Drake considered the matter concluded. He stood and turned, speaking in a formal tone to the man behind him.

“Her name is Evangeline and she is mine. She is a priceless treasure and I expect you to treat her as such. You will initiate her with gentleness and care until she is comfortable with your presence and touch. Then and only then can you exert your will—my will—as I've outlined to you.”

Then he turned back to Evangeline. “Angel, this is Manuel, a man I consider a friend and someone I trust. He will pleasure you, and I expect you to heed his commands, as they are mine. Tonight, I watch as another man pleasures and fucks what is mine.”

She shivered at the coarse, descriptive language Drake used, but then he'd likely purposely used it because he well knew her reaction when he had used it before.

And then Drake stepped away and walked to the chair diagonal to the bed where he would be afforded a prime view of her having sex with another man.

She was confused, curious, conflicted and wildly excited all at the same time. Her breaths came in rapid, short bursts and she could feel the heat of her flushed skin.

Manuel walked to the bed as Drake had done and stood staring down at her, raw arousal glittering brightly in his brilliant blue eyes.

“I am honored,” he said huskily. “Never before have I seen such a beautiful sight than an angel spread out before me, bound to the bed, her hair scattered across the pillows like silk.”

Oh, this man was good. Sheer seduction with only words.

“Touch her,” Drake said. “Caress every inch of her beautiful skin.”

Manuel slid one knee onto the bed and placed his palm over her belly, and she instantly jumped as a thousand tiny chill bumps erupted over her body.

“I won't hurt you,” Manuel said softly.

“I know,” she said just as softly. “Drake would never let you.”

Manuel smiled. “Drake is a lucky bastard. Your trust in him is a gift most men can only dream of.”

Her gaze skittered to Drake to see approval glistening in his eyes. He was leaned back in the chair, looking relaxed and at ease. Any worries she had about angering him over her sexual response to the man he had chosen evaporated. He looked . . . pleased. As though he had great pride in her. And if this pleased him, if this was what he wanted, then she would give it to him unreservedly.

As if sensing her thoughts, his gaze burned into hers, approval still bright in his eyes.

“Your pleasure pleases me, Angel. Never forget that. You wanted to give me whatever I wanted tonight, and what I want most is to watch while another man temporarily owns you. Whenever you are comfortable enough with Manuel, then he will take over and I will become a passive observer. But never think for a moment that this isn't something I will enjoy greatly. There is something decidedly erotic about seeing my woman tied to my bed, fucked and dominated by another man.”

She moaned as Manuel's hands traveled the same path as Drake's had just moments before over her breasts. His touch was different. Were she blindfolded, she'd know the difference all the same.

“You may kiss her, lick her, use your mouth on her anywhere except
her lips,” Drake said to Manuel. “Her mouth is mine and mine alone and that sweetness will never be tasted by any man but me.”

“I'll console myself by tasting that sweet pussy,” Manuel said. “I assure you, that will be no hardship whatsoever. And those nipples,” he murmured even as his head descended toward her breasts.

Her gaze found Drake's once more as she arched upward when Manuel's mouth closed around one turgid point and she sighed as he suckled gently, tonguing the tip and then administering a light nip.

To her keen disappointment, Manuel lifted his head and rose from the bed. But then she realized he was undressing and her pulse sped up. She looked at Drake instead of Manuel as he deftly removed the last of his clothing.

“Look at him, Angel,” Drake commanded. “Look at the man who's going to fuck you long and hard.”

She swallowed and shifted her gaze, her eyes widening at the beautiful male physique standing next to the bed. His hand curled around his burgeoning erection and he pulled back and forth, swelling and stiffening to complete hardness, until it strained upward toward his navel.

“Lift her bound hands over her head and turn her so she lies crossways on the bed, her legs over the side so you can taste—and fuck—her pussy. She likes it hard and rough, Manuel. But I expect you to take care and work her up to the point where she can accept you and is ready to fully take you.”

Unfamiliar but not unpleasant hands did as Drake instructed, and Manuel positioned and then stood between her spread legs, his eyes gleaming appreciatively as he stared down at her.

He lowered himself to his knees and parted the lips of her pussy and began to softly nuzzle over the sensitive flesh. Lust surged and her hips arched. Her arms lifted, though her hands were bound, and suddenly she felt very familiar hands close around her wrists and yank them roughly back down to the mattress, holding them firmly in place.

The dual sensation of one man between her legs and Drake holding
her down from the top so she couldn't move made her squirm restlessly, a moan escaping her lips. Drake's head lowered and he kissed her lips upside down.

“Let him pleasure you, Angel. While I watch him take what is mine.”

Manuel licked, sucked and tormented her, taking his time devouring her pussy. The pleasure was overwhelming but her focus wasn't on Manuel. She didn't glance down at his dark head between her legs. She locked her gaze with Drake and curled her fingers around his hands, watching his reaction to this man—this stranger to her—only interested in pleasing
Drake
.