OnlyatTheCavern (18 page)

“No.” A smile broke through her awkwardness and she gazed up
at him through her lashes and laid her hand on his chest. “I’ve come to realize
that the issue is all about me. Plain ol’ Jasmine is not as exciting as
Mistress Jasmina. To open this side of myself to anyone is not something I’ve
been prepared to do. It’s scary.”

“What can I do to prove you can trust me with your heart?”

His question made her smile widen. The fact that he asked
instead of stating that he was already trustworthy went a long way in soothing
her fears.

“You can be patient with me,” she said. “And honest. You can
start by telling me what you know about those photos of us.”

“Smithwick,” he practically spat.

“Smithwick? The man you’ve been after? The one whose men
tried to kill Jenny?”

He pulled her into his arms and rested his forehead against
hers. “I’m getting too close and he’s using you as leverage to get me to back
away. I’m so sorry to have you caught in the middle, Jasmine.”

“I know you didn’t mean to.”

“I should have known better,” he growled. “I saw what he did
to Fiona Corrione. Why did I think you’d be spared?”

“Fiona? Do you mean Dhavin Kilsgaard’s wife, Fiona?” He
nodded. “What happened to her?”

His lips tightened and he looked away. “Long and complicated
story, but she was the one from a year ago who had been kidnapped and almost
killed by that bomb. When she was kidnapped and brought to the city, I was
called in to help with her rescue.”

“I never put it together that they were one and the same.
I’ve met her. She looks fine and healthy.”

“She is now. She was injured but survived. That night was
the closest I’ve come to arresting Smithwick, until now. I wouldn’t put it past
him to use anyone close to me as leverage.”

All of the talk about kidnapping and threatening made goose
bumps erupt over her skin and a shiver run down her spine as fear, true fear
tightened around her chest. “How certain are you that this was him and not
someone from the club who thinks I’ve slighted them?”

“I had one of my men contact Lucian and pull video from that
night. Of course there wasn’t anything from the room itself, but my man
recognized one of Smithwick’s associates from the footage we did have access
to. He was there that night. I don’t think it was a coincidence.”

“I guess it’s a good thing I was suspended then. I won’t
have to worry about watching my back at the hospital.”

He reared back as if she slapped him. “You were suspended?
For what?”

“The C.O.S. thought it would be best that I lie low for a
few days until the storm blew over. Apparently he’s been inundated with phone
calls all morning about Dr. Dominatrix. I say it’s a suspension, but he’s
calling it an administrative leave. Either way, I have a few unexpected days
off.”

“I am so sorry, Jasmine.”

“I know it’s not your fault.” She lifted on her toes and
brushed her lips against the corner of his mouth. When his breath hitched in
surprise, she froze in confusion before she realized what she had done.

After all they had shared physically, a kiss had never been
a part of their play. Actually, she couldn’t remember the last man she had
kissed on the lips, but she knew she wanted that intimacy with Marco, and to
move her mouth the scant millimeters over to press against his lips felt
natural, as if she’d done so a million times before.

His arms tightened around her waist as he tilted his head
and took what she offered with a deep sigh she felt all the way down to her
toes. How strange to feel as if she were sinking in warm honey and floating in
the sky all at the same time. Marco’s kisses were just as she expected. Strong,
thorough and with a hint of playfulness as his tongue swept into her mouth for
a deeper taste. With his kiss he replenished her, soothed the weariness of
being on her own, and she in turn gave him comfort, a port to call home,
another piece of her heart.

She broke away on a gasp. “That was nice.”

“Nice? Baby, that was a lot more than just nice. If I had
the time, I’d make you eat your words, but we’ve got to move. I need to get you
someplace safe, at least for the near future.”

“Safe? Safe where?”

“Don’t know yet, but I’m getting Coulter on it now. I
thought you might be safe with the Kilsgaards, but I want you by my side,
otherwise I won’t be able to concentrate.”

“For how long?”

“A few days. We’re moving on Smithwick as soon as we nail
down the specifics. Could be as soon as tomorrow.” He cupped her cheek. “Please
come with me.”

Staring into his dark eyes, she saw his worry and
exhaustion. Lines bracketed his mouth and his cheeks carried several days’
worth of stubble. “When was the last time you slept?”

“What day is today?”

“Wednesday.”

“Two days ago.”

Her poor man. Even if she couldn’t offer tactical
assistance, she could grant him the simple request of standing by his side. She
brushed his lips with another kiss. “I’ll go with you.”

He wilted against her and sighed. “Thank you. Go pack a bag
and I’ll call Coulter.”

“All right. If you need a drink or anything, help yourself
in the kitchen.”

At the door to her room, she turned to watch him over her
shoulder as he sat heavily on the couch and dialed his lieutenant. Marco might
want to be underway immediately, but that wasn’t what he needed. With a smile,
she made her way to the bathroom and the sunken tub in the corner. This was her
favorite feature in the entire condo and the main reason she had bought the
overpriced section of real estate. She turned on the taps and poured a fine
layer of Epsom salts into the steamy water, then gathered the toiletries she’d
need while they were away.

She didn’t like the idea that she needed to hide from
anyone, but her knowledge of this Smithwick character was practically
nonexistent, and if it helped Marco to keep his focus and get the job done,
remaining within sight distance was not an inconvenience. It wasn’t as if she
didn’t have the time. Besides, what an opportunity to see Marco in his element,
taking charge and displaying his command. She might just become tempted to let
him Dom her. “Might” being the operative word.

“Running a bath is not the same as packing a bag.”

She turned to where he stood at the doorway. “In my mind it
is,” she said with a wink. “What’s the word?”

“Coulter is securing a safe house for the team and will let
me know in an hour.”

“Perfect. That’s plenty of time.” She strode up to him and
snagged his bottom lip between her teeth then laved the pinch with her tongue.
“Strip.”

“Excuse me?”

“Take off your clothes. Otherwise I will cut them off
myself. I would hate to have you show up at the safe house buck naked.”

His eyes narrowed. “And you’d do it too.”

“Damn straight.” She smiled.

While Marco removed his jacket and shoes, she splashed the
hot water up the side of the tub to remove the chill from the fiberglass.

“Climb in,” she directed once he was gloriously nude. “Is
the water too hot?”

“Just a little.” He sucked in breath and sat down. “I like
it. Oh, I like that too,” he said and tilted his head forward as she massaged
his shoulders. “Okay. Maybe this was a good idea.”

“When was the last time you took a proper bath?”

“Thirty-one years ago.”

“That is too too long. I’ll have to make this one extra
special.”

“Yes, please.” He sank deeper into the steaming water and
watched her with a lazy smile as she slowly pulled her blouse over her head.
Bit by bit she removed her clothing, dropping each item on the floor before
moving on to the next until nothing but steam cloaked her skin. From the vanity
drawer she retrieved a hair clip and bundled her tresses up and away, then
settled between his knees.

“Your hand please.” She took a soft crimson-colored cloth
and scrubbed at the skin of his wrist before moving up his arm to his shoulder
and chest. She made certain she was very thorough in her ministrations, rubbing
and touching her man until he reclined against the tub with drowsy
satisfaction.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured. “Come here. I want you
in my arms.”

“Like this?” She turned and settled against his chest. Her
lower spine cradled the hard length of his cock as his arms came around her
middle.

“Yeah. Now that’s the ticket, baby. I could seriously get
used to this.”

She reached behind her and twisted his nipple. “Don’t call
me baby. It’s degrading.”

“I can’t help it. Mistress is too formal and I think of you
as mine. Someone to cuddle and kiss. You’re my baby.”

“I’m a grown woman. When we are in a scene, I am Mistress.
When we are alone, you may call me my queen, your highness or my goddess, if
Jasmine is too much for you to say. Never baby.”

“I’ll try, my goddess.”

She lifted her chin for his kiss and melted into his hold as
he sipped from her lips in long draws and soft sighs. His hands roamed over her
torso before cupping her breasts and massaging the mounds with strong fingers.

“Spread your legs,” he ordered against her mouth. “Open up
for me. That’s it. Just like that.”

“Marco,” she gasped and grabbed his wrist as he plunged two
hot fingers into her sheath.

“I love the sound of my name on your lips. I’m going to make
you feel so good, you’ll never think of sending me away again.”

And with that promise, he raked his teeth along her shoulder
and hooked two fingers inside her fluttering channel, stroking and massaging
the responsive nerves while she writhed in his embrace.

She loved the flex of muscles in his arms as he played her
body with a master’s touch. The longing in his voice as he told her over and
over how beautiful she was, how much he had missed her and how he loved making
her come apart, pushed her toward the edge.

She had been willing to walk away from this? Why? Her stupid
pride? Fear? Could she be any dumber? She didn’t deserve Marco’s affection, but
she was going to gobble it up until he realized he could do much better than her.

“You’re getting tight, baby, I mean—my goddess,” he moaned
against her neck. “So tight. Come for me. Give me your mouth and come for me.”

She all but inhaled him as she screamed into his mouth and
shattered like a glass balloon left too long in the kiln. All around her, the
warm water lapped at her sensitive skin while inside waves of effervescent heat
rolled from her pussy to her head and back down again where Marco rolled her
clit between his fingertips. Her nails dug into his forearms, making him moan
with her as he drew out her orgasm until another wave washed over her, drowning
her with its heat and sucking her under.

“No more. No more, please,” she begged past lips swollen
from his kiss. His handsome face blurred in and out as her sex-drugged eyes tried
to focus. “It hurts so good. But I want you. I’m hungry. For you.”

Against her back, his erection burned like a molten pipe,
throbbing and twitching as she wiggled and writhed. She knocked his hands away
from her sex and turned in his arms. “Sit on the edge of the tub. Now.”

Marco swallowed hard and jumped to attention. Water cascaded
down his body like an erotic waterfall as he stood and took his seat.

“Oh, that’s cold,” he hissed when his back hit the tile wall
behind him.

“I’ll warm you up.” She pushed his knees apart and scored
pink lines up the insides of his thighs with her nails. She grabbed his cock
around the base with both hands then leaned forward to suck the pearly drop of
cum out of the little hole as if he were a straw.

“Fuck, yeah. Oh, my God,” he groaned and his eyes rolled
back.

“Hands to the side. Do not touch me. Your cock is mine.”

“Yes, Mistress— Fuck!” he shouted as she opened her mouth
and sucked him to the back of her throat. His hands fluttered on her head for a
second before he remembered his place and dropped them to the tub’s edge.

She hollowed her cheeks on the journey up then went back for
another mouthful.

Ding dong.

What the hell?

Ding dong.

She jerked up right and swung her gaze in the direction of
the front door.

“Who knows you’re home?” Marco whispered.

“Anyone from the hospital,” she replied just as quietly.
“Coulter?”

Marco shook his head. “He’d call.”

Ding dong.

Goose bumps burst across her skin as she stood and climbed
out of the tub.

“Don’t go out there,” he hissed.

“I’m not going to answer the door.” She whisked most of the
moisture away with a towel then wrapped it around her body. “Just look through
the peephole.”

“Jasmine. Damn it.” He climbed after her, but she was
already tiptoeing through the living room toward the front door.

Ding dong.

Damn, they were persistent. She held her breath and looked
through the little glass eye then pulled back with a gasp, “Shit.”

“Jasmine Elena Jovanovich, I know you’re home. Open the
door,” the shrill voice pierced the wood and made her cringe.

“Fuck.”

“Who is it?”

Marco stood behind her, dressed but still wet. His shirt
clung to his torso and his trousers weren’t quite pulled up to his waist. His
lips were deliciously red and his eyes still held the fire from a moment
before. Without looking into a mirror, she knew her own appearance was the
same, which made the visitor’s timing all the more hellacious.

“Jasmine?” he asked again.

She closed her eyes with a sigh. “It’s my mother.”

“Jasmine, open this door.” Her mother’s demand was
accompanied by several firm knocks that rattled the door. “I saw your car in
the lot and know you are home.”

A multitude of dirty, nasty swear words sprang to her lips
as she ran toward her bedroom. “Just a minute,” she shouted.

Yes, her mother had been known to drop by unannounced in the
past, but by the shrillness of her tone it was obvious something had crawled up
her mother’s butt, and Jasmine had a terrible idea of what that could be.

“What do you want me to do?” Marco asked.

“Stand back. Whatever it is she’s come to say is going to be
loud and nasty. Of all the times…” she muttered and pulled on a pair of yoga
pants and a t-shirt. There wasn’t enough time for a bra so a hoodie zipped
halfway up was going to have to disguise the telltale jiggle. “And she won’t be
alone. She hates to drive. Please don’t let it be Bruno.”

Marco followed her back into the living room. “Who’s Bruno?”

She opened the door then inwardly cringed as she died a
thousand deaths at the sight of the tableau waiting in the hallway.

By the way her parents were dressed, it was if they were on
their way to a funeral. A black cotton scarf covered her mother’s hair, making
her red-rimmed eyes appear ghostly against her pale face. She clutched a
handkerchief in one hand and a bundle of papers in the other, both of which
were clasped to her chest. Bruno looked no less somber in his dark suit and
grim expression. When he met Jasmine’s gaze, he muttered something under his
burly mustache and looked at the floor as his cheeks turned pink.

“Mother. Bruno. What a surprise. What brings you by?” she
barely managed to ask in a pleasant tone.

“What is the meaning of this?” her mother screeched and held
up the fistful of paper. “This is not the daughter I raised.”

Holy hell. She gestured for them to enter. Playing dumb was
only going to make the situation more painful. “Come on in.”

“Your father, may he rest in peace, is weeping in his grave
right now, saying ‘Why, Jasmine? Why have you brought shame to this family? Why
do you stab your mother in the heart?’” she wailed then drew up short when she
spotted Marco standing in the living room. The poor man looked as if he
couldn’t decide whether to be scared or amused. “Who is this man?”

“Marco, this is my mother and stepfather, Bruno and Oksana
Brodsky. Mother, this is police Captain Marco DeWinter.”

“A policeman?” Her eyebrows rose so high they disappeared
under the scarf. “Have you come to arrest my daughter for indecency?”

“Oksana” Bruno said gruffly and took a seat on the couch. “I
don’t think he is here as cop. He is barefoot. I think he is, what’s the word?
Boytoy?”

Marco’s eyes widened in surprise while Jasmine rolled hers.
If this situation had happened to any of her Dom friends, she’d be on the floor
howling with laughter. At the moment all she wanted was to melt into the floor
and be absorbed into the earth.

Lord grant her strength.

“Marco is my boyfriend,” she answered.

“Boyfriend?” The way her mother said the word it was as if
it were a disease. “You have a boyfriend? Since when? You have not brought him
home. You have not allowed us to meet him and approve of the relationship.”

Oh no she didn’t. Really? Really.

“I don’t need you to approve anything. I’m an adult who can
make my own choices.”

“Obviously not when you parade around dressed as a whore. I
did not raise a whore!”

Jasmine felt the skin around her mouth tighten further. Her
face was going to become permanently pinched the longer she tried to hold back
what she really wanted to say. She crossed to Marco’s side and placed her hand
on his chest, drawing his attention away from the sobbing woman and onto her.
“Marco, my suitcases are in my closet. Can you pack me some clothes you think
will be appropriate for the next few days? My bag of toiletries is on the
bathroom counter.”

“If you need anything, call for me.” He pressed a kiss into
the center of her palm then looked toward her parents and nodded. “Ma’am. Sir.”

The hard line of his mouth suggested he had several choice
words for her mother, but he did as he was asked. That restraint coupled with
the glance he gave her at the door before he stepped inside made her love him a
little more.

“Jasmine—”

“Mother.” She cut off the impending rant and faced the
smaller woman with her head held high. “Before you launch into another tirade
or start praying for my soul, let me remind you that I have done nothing
wrong.”

“Nothing?” She waved the papers in the air. “You call this
nothing?”

“I’m sorry you found out about my lifestyle in such a
manner.” Speaking of which, how had her mother found those photos? “I knew you
wouldn’t understand my choices, which is why I haven’t mentioned them.” And it
appeared as if that instinct was spot on.

“Choices? You engage in these perversions by choice? Who
taught you this? Where in my house did you hear about such things?” She began
to pace back and forth, the papers in her hands turned into confetti as she
shredded them during her lamenting. “I knew it was a bad idea to allow to you
to go to college. I should have forced you to stay home and find a husband. If
you had just done what I asked, you would be happy now.”

“No, Mother, you would be happy and I would be miserable.”

Her mother paid her no heed. “I would have grandbabies and a
daughter who was respectable.”

The diatribe bounced on her last nerve. “Are you even
listening to what you’re saying? Look around you! You want to talk about normal
and happiness? Most
normal
people would be proud to have a daughter who
put herself through medical school and became a doctor. Who owns her own home
and has friends and does what she loves. But not you. Oh no. You want a
daughter who is a drone. A mindless baby factory with no other purpose in life
but to serve others. That’s called slavery, Mother, and was outlawed years ago.
I deserve more from life.”

“Is that what you think I am? A mindless drone?” She turned
to Bruno. “What is a drone?”

“I do not know.” He shrugged. “Some kind of
gadget-computer-thing.”

“I am not a computer.” Tears clung to her mother’s lashes.
“You think I am nothing but a machine?”

A headache formed behind eyes. “I think you are a woman who
is afraid of the world so asks little of it to keep safe. But there’s more to
life than being a wife and mother. You have a choice. That is the beauty of
living in this country. Freedom of choice. That’s why your family came here.
You have the life you want and that’s fine. And I have mine. I am not you and I
don’t have to be.”

“No. Instead you live a life of sin and degradation.”

Of course she would know the meaning of the word degradation
but not drone. “Who isn’t living in sin, Mother? Show me a person who claims
otherwise and I will show you a liar.” She folded her arms across her chest.
“What are you really angry about? Are you really angry that I’m a dominatrix?
That I like to dress in sexy clothes and make men beg for the chance to please
me? Or are you really angry because you now have irrefutable proof that you
have absolutely no control over me?”

The sharp intake of breath and the roaming of her mother’s
gaze confirmed it was the latter even as she sputtered. “That is ridiculous. Of
course it’s about this sexy business.”

“Is it? Why? Is my lifestyle unusual? Not as unusual as you
may think. I’m a trained professional in a controlled environment, and I screen
all of my partners both medically and mentally. I can understand why you may be
shocked, but if you have paid any attention to me at all during my life, this
news should not be a surprise. But you’ve never paid attention to me, have you?
Unless I exhibited some sort of behavior that was a mirror image of you, you
didn’t notice. And that’s sad, Mother.”

“You speak nonsense.” Her mother sniffled and swayed on her
feet. “You have let these vile perversions make you believe you can disrespect
me in this way. No more. This ends now. You will pack your things and move
home. You will marry a nice man and forget these disgusting ideas.”

The sheer audacity of the demands blindsided her like a
fistful of sand in the eyes. “Not happening. Ever. I’m not a child.”

“You are my child,” her mother roared. “You want a choice?
This is your choice! Come home now or stay. If you stay…you will no longer be
my daughter.”

It was Jasmine’s turn to gasp. Would her mother actually
push her that far?

In a voice barely louder than a whisper she warned, “Be
careful what you wish for, Mother. I can make that happen.”

Her mother took a step closer and lifted her chin. “Come
with me or you are no longer welcome in my family.”

Ice infused her veins and rooted her to the floor. She
looked to Bruno, who watched them as if sitting ringside at a title fight. When
he met her gaze, he lifted his hands and nodded, encouraging her to go along
with her mother’s wishes.

What the hell was happening? It was if a giant television
had appeared before her and she was watching a horrible Lifetime Channel movie
about a dysfunctional family in crisis. But this wasn’t a movie and the
horribleness was spewing from her mother’s mouth.
Her
mother. A woman
who was supposed to love her unconditionally.

Only she never did have a mother like that, did she?

In the future, when she looked back at this moment in her
life, what would she remember? The clothes she wore? The wild look in her
mother’s eyes? The color of the walls or the time of day? Or the prickly
numbness that one feels, like when their foot falls asleep. No sense of touch,
but a million hot pinpricks that brought tears to your eyes.

Maybe every detail. Perhaps nothing at all.

For certain it wouldn’t be the walk to the front door.
Before she realized she had moved, the cold doorknob was in her hand and the
door pulled open.

She turned to face her mother. “I am hoping that it’s only
confusion and fear spurring your actions today. When you are ready to accept me
as I am, I’ll be waiting. Until then, you may leave my home.”

As she spoke, the words sounded muffled in her ears.
Absorbed by the cotton shell her heart wrapped around her for protection. The
situation was too surreal to process in real time, if ever. Her mother had
drawn an unreasonable line in the sand, and Jasmine refused to kowtow to fear.
She was who she was. To behave otherwise was not an option.

Oksana drew up to her full five-foot-tall height and sniffed
with indignation. With a nod at her husband, she swept out of the room like a
queen bearing a long robe of self-righteousness.

Bruno paused at the door and looked toward his wife’s
retreating back then back at Jasmine. With a weary sigh, he continued down the
hall without another sound save for the heavy tread of his loafers on the
carpet. Not once did Oksana look in her direction, even as the elevator doors
slid shut between them. The message was clear. From now on, Jasmine didn’t
exist in her world.

* * * * *

Jasmine stood with her back against the cement wall near the
entrance of the parking garage as Marco searched his car for hidden explosives
and GPS trackers. Of all the day’s events, it was odd that this measure of
precaution was not the strangest thing to have happened to her. And it wasn’t
even eleven a.m. yet. Yep, the morning had been one for the record books.

She pulled the lapels of her jacket across her chest, not
because she was cold but because she liked the pressure against her body, much
as she suspected was similar to the comforting embrace of a cocoon around a
caterpillar. From the moment she closed the front door on her parents, her
brain had shut down and gone on autopilot. Thoughts, words, ideas never fully
formed as a numbness took up residency between her ears.

Was this really what it felt like to be disowned? The
sensation was interesting, that was for certain.

“One more test and we’ll be on our way,” Marco said as he
joined her at the entrance and pushed her further back into the hall. “Stand
behind the wall, just in case.”

He held his breath and pushed the ignition button on the
fob. The engine caught and purred with a gentle roar. No boom. No fires. All
appeared as it should.

If it had been the day before, she would have thought him
paranoid, but after the day’s events, anything was possible. Marco was nothing
if not completely serious when it came to his job. If he felt there was a
threat against their lives, he was not going to take chances. She couldn’t
fault him for being cautious.

Marco grunted with approval and placed his arm around her
shoulders. “Ready?”

She nodded and stuck close by him as they dashed to the car
and slid inside. In seconds they were on the road.

Marco surveyed their surroundings with quick turns of his
head while she stared out the passenger window as they passed block after block
of concrete and glass structures. Out in the city, people were going about
their day wrapped in the drama of their own lives. Could any of them claim to
have had as a tumultuous day as she? God bless them if that was the case.

She still didn’t know where they were going, and truthfully,
she didn’t care as long as Marco was at her side with his quiet strength. Not
once did he make a pithy remark or a generic comment of sorrow on her behalf as
most people might. Instead he had allowed her to gather her things and prepare
for their journey with silent support and respect for her dignity.

“I liked it when you called me your boyfriend.”

“What?” She turned to him with a surprised giggle. What a
funny thing to say.

He shrugged and gave her a half-smile that brought out the
dimple in one cheek. “Earlier, when you told your parents I was your boyfriend.
I know that word is kind of juvenile, but I liked that you claimed me as
someone who is more than your friend.”