Mistress of Redemption (27 page)

even suspected you were the cause,

because in their presence you were

so solicitous of her every need. You

were getting bored of the game,

though. That’s what you told yourself.

So without a word to Eliza and only

a brief note to your foster mother so

she wouldn’t bother looking for you,

on the day of your graduation you

picked up your diploma, drove out of

town and never looked back.”

Her voice continued its brutal

laceration of his memories. “Your

ability to love, if you ever had it, was

annihilated at that point. Nathan

Polinsky stopped existing and

Jonathan Powell took control. Casual

dates were never casual for you. You

staked out your quarry and went after

her with a hunter’s instinct. Every

time you succeeded, you wanted

stronger prey. The stronger the better.

You would take them all down,

prove that none of them could take

advantage of Jonathan Powell. It’s

your addiction. When you see a

woman, you immediately start

gauging her defenses, her strengths,

figuring out how to work your way

through them.”

She turned and faced him, that

terrible memory replaying behind her

in graphic, stark detail. He tried to

block it out, tried to just focus on

Dona’s eyes, the movement of her

lips, but he couldn’t ignore Eliza’s

tears.
She’d trusted him.

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Joey W. Hill

That was her fault. He hadn’t asked

her to love him so much she

sacrificed her self-respect. She

should have known he was bullshit

and turned her back on him, gone

with one of those right-side-of-the-

track guys whose worst offense

would be the cliché of taking her

virginity in the back of his car and

giving her flowers afterward.

“Eliza truly loved you. She let you

destroy her because she sensed how

much you needed her. She was too

young and pure to understand, but it

didn’t make her love less noble. We

believe love is strong enough to

overcome everything, but that’s not

exactly true. Love endures. It can rise

out of the ashes of a destroyed

relationship to be the foundation for

the next one. But you don’t love,

Jonathan. You choose a woman only

to make her suffer.” The mirror

images faded away, just as Eliza had

faded out of his life, forever gone.

The thought of her had lingered for so

many years, until he’d finally locked

her in a room of his subconscious,

ignoring her no matter how often she

beat on the door and screamed.

Eventually he’d piled enough debris

on her to silence her. Until Dona

unearthed her again.

He’d tried to love Eliza even harder

than he’d tried to love Lauren.

Perhaps in both he’d sensed the key

to his salvation, something that could

be his if he could just get past his

fears. He had failed, both times. In

the end he just couldn’t trust either

woman enough.

Sick at heart, confused, he

nevertheless lifted his gaze to Dona,

pinned her with a defiant look. “I

didn’t choose
you
. You came for

me.” Inside, he wondered if

somehow that would make it different

this time, cause it to end differently.

Wished the thought didn’t tear at his

insides with self-doubt and loathing.

“You’re exactly right. I did.”

Suddenly she was back on that couch,

sprawled like the temptress she was.

Her thighs spread open, showing him

the glistening folds, her body

entirely, blessedly naked, her arm

lying lazily above her head, indolent.

“Do you think you can pleasure me

far better than those two did?”

A confusing thicket of lust, anger and

need rose up in him like the rasp of

thorns on the inside of his chest. A

need to get rid of his pain by

immersing himself in her body.

“Hell, yes,” he growled.

“You are arrogant, Nathan.” Her lips

curved. “I do like that about you.

Come fuck your Mistress.”

* * * * *

He stumbled as he moved forward,

finding his ankles manacled on a

close chain.

He had to make short, shuffling steps

to get to her, underscoring his

servitude, reminding him that his

desires and needs were tempered by

her Will.

As if she knew he understood the

lesson, the bonds were gone. He

stood before her, naked as she was,

the two of them staring at each other.

Despite the moment of 106

Mistress of Redemption

bravado, he was still off balance,

shaky inside and out from facing

Eliza. He noticed then that Dona was

trembling too, though he couldn’t

imagine why she’d be nervous about

this moment. Unless this moment was

different. As he looked into her eyes,

he saw it was. She was lying on her

back, waiting for him to come to her.

Waiting to take his body onto hers,

allow him to spread her legs and sink

into her. After all the terrible things

she’d seen of his soul, she was

opening her own, giving him a

moment of her own vulnerability, and

he had no idea why.

He took one step and then another, as

careful as if he was still bound at the

ankles.

Her eyes, the very energy that

surrounded her, captivated him,

tortured him and yet brought him a

sense of security he’d never had

before and didn’t understand now.

She anticipated everything, so he

didn’t have to pretend anything.

Yet she shivered at his approach.

It made him want to give her

everything, be a far better man than

he’d ever desired to be before, even

though he knew it was too late.

Instead of falling on her like a rutting

bull, he knelt and put his lips to the

tender arch of one bare foot.

Had he ever let himself savor a

woman? Breathe in her essence like

this while her body lay before him

like a gift beyond measure? Press his

mouth to her skin amid the

punishments of Hell, rub his cheek

against her ankle like an affectionate

tomcat and see her lips curve in a

distracted smile. In the vast

knowledge he had of the way

women’s physical responses were

inextricably tied to the emotional, he

understood her body could be

violently aroused by that one touch

on her foot. There were no individual

body parts on a woman. Everything

was connected, every touch felt at

several different levels, a mystery

that a man could comprehend, be

grateful for, but never understand

himself.

“Nathan.” She spoke his name in a

whisper, the name his soul knew.

Raising her arms, she looked at him

with eyes of rich brown earth,

welcoming him. “Did you ever have

a pet, my lovely slave?”

He shook his head. “I had a friend

with a cat. When I was a kid. It

seemed to like me.”

“Did you like petting the cat?”

“I did. She…” A painful smile came

to him at the thought that the feline

had been a female. Dona gave him an

answering soft smile on her lips that

said she’d followed his thoughts

easily. “It was nice, petting her.”

“Have you ever thought about the

way a cat or dog is so willing to

touch and be touched? Be my pet. Let

me touch you, pet you.”

“I haven’t earned this gift, Mistress.”

“I have.” There was a sudden

fierceness to her, a ripple of

something that suggested that this

moment had not been planned as part

of the program. However, he was

learning there were tremendous

benefits to not arguing with a

Mistress.

He put his knee on the couch and

lurched, catching himself as their

surface moved like a waterbed. They

were back in the oasis under a Van

Gogh starry night sky. While 107

Joey W. Hill

they floated on a human-sized lily

pad, smaller clusters drifted by, their

white blooms scenting the air. The

night was filled with frog warblings.

He caught himself on his elbow to

keep from falling on her, which put

his other hand in the perfect place to

cup her face, his thumb tracing her

collarbone. One of her hands was at

his ribs, the other at his hip,

steadying him as he got accustomed

to the sensual undulation of the water

at their every movement. The edges

of the pad cupped up, keeping the

water from them.

“How
do
you do that?”

“I don’t. Not always. After so many

years, I anticipate His thoughts and

plan, the settings He gives me, but

sometimes He alters what I imagine.

I’d intended you to make love to me

on the couch. He liked this better.”

“So do I.” He was suddenly,

intensely aware of the fact his body

was laid upon hers full length, her

thighs cradling his hips, nothing

between them. “Would you like me to

switch places, my lady, so you can

ride me to your pleasure?”

“No.” Her eyes were luminous, filled

with the stars above, making him

dizzy. “I don’t need to be on top to be

your Mistress. After all, you’re

waiting on my permission, aren’t

you?”

He couldn’t deny it. “May I kiss

you?”

“Not yet.” She tilted her hips. With

the pressure of her hands on his

buttocks, she angled him so his head

pushed in, sunk into her wet heat like

the answer to every fear or question

he’d ever had. He couldn’t help

resting his forehead on hers,

swamped by the sensation. Emotions

flooded him, along with the desire to

move.

He stiffened, lifting his head. “I

didn’t…Mistress, forgive me.

Protection… Do you need it here? I

know it’s a little late to be thinking of

it…”

She framed his face with her hands,

her voice husky. “No. This is a place

where protection isn’t an option, in

any form. It pleases me that you

thought of protecting me, though.”

“I wish I could destroy the part of me

you call Jonathan.” He blurted it out.

“You were right, a moment ago. It’s

so deep inside me…” The sound that

he forced out of his throat was too

harsh to be a laugh, too bitter to be a

sob. “I’m never going to deserve

you.”

“Hush,” she said, her fingers

brushing his lips. She moved her

hands, cupped her palms over the

small of his back. Tightening her legs

on the swell of his buttocks, she

lifted up to him, taking him more

deeply and presenting her breasts to

his suddenly dry mouth. “Move

inside of me. Slow. Strong.”

He obeyed. It was torturous, feeling

her walls slide along his length,

convulse against him, the firm

pressure of her tiny clit against his

pubic area, the feel of her body

everywhere it touched him. Stroking,

gripping, moonlight on the arch of her

throat. The gratifying sounds of her

increasing breaths, her cry of

pleasure as he bent his head and

suckled her breasts in turn, bit her

throat, trying in every way he knew to

increase her pleasure.

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Mistress of Redemption

He wanted to make her climax as

shattering as he was sure his was

going to be, if she permitted him the

reward. Each slow and even stroke

made it far more difficult to hold

back, particularly when she showed

no signs of letting him release. But

even more than the desire to climax,

he wanted this moment to go on

forever, bask in her pleasure at his

touch and their joining. It was too

open on her face to be feigned, too

obvious in the clutch of her limbs.

He wished he could kiss her mouth,

that final and most precious gift of

intimacy.

Though he was tempted past bearing

to do so with her so close beneath

him, her chin rubbing his head as he

suckled her again, nipped her, he

didn’t. For she had forbidden him to

kiss her. He didn’t want to do

anything to stop this moment.

It brought him back to moments with

other Mistresses, moments somewhat

like this when their love and

response had been offered as freely

as Dona’s was now. He could see

those moments now with new eyes.

Every drop of love freely offered

could have been another restorative

to his sick soul. Healing had always

been within his reach, but his fears

had been greater.

With the truths his Mistress of

Redemption had shown him came the

knowledge of all he had done and all

he must do to make it right to earn the

love of a Mistress like Dona. But he