Dark angel, p.23
Dark Angel, page 23
Internally, I roll my eyes, but outwardly, I nod, trying to appear submissive. "Yes, boss."
"I prefer sir or master."
His words catch me off guard. "Sir, maybe, but I'm not calling any white guy my master. That's a trigger word for me." I'm surprised at my bluntness, but I need to make my boundaries clear.
"How so?" Jaden fires back, his question sharp.
"It reminds me of slavery and racism and takes my mind away from what we're doing.” I meet his intense gaze.
He considers my words for a moment before nodding. "Fair enough. Do you have any questions before we begin?"
"Yes, actually. Explain the stoplights." I recall the club's safe word guidelines, but I want more clarity from Jaden.
"If either of us says red, all activity ceases, and the scene is done. We say yellow if you want to continue but need to adjust an activity. And if you're comfortable and want to proceed when I check in, you'll say green. Do you understand?" Jaden adds a new touch to the stoplight system I read about with his green light, but I keep my mouth shut. Because what he doesn't vocalize but screams through our bond is the unspoken ultimatum: if I say red or reject him, we're done. Despite the urge to address this, I remain silent on instinct.
So I nod. I've learned to tread lightly when discussing sex with him. He can be relentless in extracting details, prying into every nook and cranny, much like a miner relentlessly chipping away, seeking that hidden vein of gold deep within the earth's crust. However, like said miner, he keeps his information nuggets to himself. Jaden’s a master of giving obscure answers that never answer the question asked.
And now, his hot hand rests on my thigh, sending a flood of heat through my body. “I wish I had skin your color.” Jaden’s index finger traces a path up my forearm, leaving goosebumps and a trail of fiery sensation.
His comment on my skin color catches me off guard, stirring a mix of warmth and anger. Here it comes, the conversation about race. Is this where I see Jaden's true colors? My mind races with doubts. “You don’t need to pretend to like my skin color just to sleep with me,” I blurt out, fixing him with a searching gaze, bracing for his response.
He keeps his eyes on my arm, his touch light yet maddening. I'm on edge, irritation and desire battling within me. “Well?” I snap, impatience laced with fear.
Jaden pauses, his voice calm, but our link is pulsing with restrained anger. “Under normal circumstances, I’d take offense to that assumption. But considering your past, I'll let it slide. Just know, it's unfair to accuse me like that. Have I ever given you a reason to believe your skin color matters to me in any negative way? If anything, it adds to your appeal, and I'm pissed you'd think so poorly of me.”
His words strike a chord of guilt and realization within me. The truth is, Jaden's never shown any sign of caring about my race or color. His issues are all about intimacy, not skin. “I’m sorry.” Embarrassment flushes through me. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”
He sighs, and just like that, his anger softens into understanding. “No need for apologies. In fact, I owe you one.”
His admission surprises me, snapping my attention back to him. An apology from Jaden? Now that's something new.
“Want to talk about the other night?” His voice is low, almost hesitant. There's an underlying note of concern that I’m not used to hearing from him.
My head snaps up, matching his intensity with my own fiery response. “What about the other night?” My words come out sharper than I intend, fueled by a mix of defensiveness and curiosity.
Jaden pauses, his expression unreadable for a moment. “Are you okay with what happened?” There’s a flicker of something in his eyes, a hint of guilt maybe, that mirrors my own internal turmoil.
Turning to face him fully, I can't help the slow smile that lights up my face. It feels like a rare moment of clarity breaking through the confusion. I scoot closer, yet there's still a careful distance between us, a dance of proximity we both seem to be navigating. “It was consensual if that’s what you’re asking.” A bit of boldness creeps into my voice. “Are you okay with it?”
His response surprises me. “Yes,” he says, and there’s an unspoken weight behind that single word. I can tell he’s holding back, but I don’t push it. Instead, I lean back, lost in thought, analyzing my feelings and trying to make sense of them. “I’m surprised, really. I usually can't stand the smell of liquor on guys, but you . . . you weren’t an asshole like they are.” I stop, surprised at my own admission.
Jaden's expression shifts, a brief flash of something like surprise or realization crossing his face. It's gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by that familiar guarded look.
I gather my courage for my final ask. “I don’t mind it rough, but don’t take me in anger again.” I hold my breath, hoping I haven't crossed a line.
Jaden meets my gaze, a quirk of his eyebrow conveying more than words could. It's a silent acknowledgment, an unspoken agreement that hangs between us. I sit back, waiting, wondering what this means for us from now on.
29
JADEN
“I think you’ll have to force me.” Rayne's words echo in my mind, a siren call that pushes back the ever-present shadows. She keeps me anchored, here and now, away from the dark recesses where I hide the remnants of who I really am.
I ponder our earlier conversation, each word a piece of the puzzle that is my new identity. I'm usually shrouded in doubt, a truth I've concealed from the world, but this time, I'm certain. I've devised the perfect plan to keep my defenses intact while keeping Rayne close. Her responses to my probing questions send a thrill through me, a sensation that's becoming increasingly familiar.
My power thrums with excitement, reveling in this newfound shortcut to intimacy. The long preparations, a legacy of past trauma, seem less daunting now. Rayne's submissive demeanor, contrasting with her fierce independence, ensnares me. Her willingness to let me choose her attire, to shield her from what she perceives as flaws, strikes a chord in me. She's internalized society's shame, a burden unfairly placed upon her by the very gender I belong to. Just like the ones put on me!
I want to tell her how beautiful she is, to break through the walls we've both built, but I've learned the hard way the cost of vulnerability. Every action must be calculated and guarded. Yet, with Rayne, it's different. She mirrors my hidden tenderness, reflecting the pain we've both endured at the hands of a judgmental world.
There's a freedom in her presence, a release from the constant need to conform or seek approval. She draws out the dominant side of me, a part I've kept hidden. Her wide, desire-filled eyes are a window to her soul—open, honest, unguarded with me. I'm eager to explore this uncharted territory with her, to communicate in ways words cannot.
And yes, I can't deny the thrill of being her first in this realm of dominance and submission. She sees me as an expert, a role I relish. Rayne, my kink virgin, is a blank canvas, and I'm eager to leave my mark.
“Let's begin, shall we? Tonight, I want to explore a blindfold and light bondage. It's time I truly learn your body, understand how you react to my touch.”
Rayne's snort catches me off guard, her eyebrow arching in playful defiance. “CC, you've been 'exploring' me since day one. Don't play coy with me now. You must have figured me out by now.” Her candidness is both refreshing and challenging.
Despite the grin tugging at my lips, I can't help but push back a little, still struggling with the nickname she's bestowed upon me. "I've asked you not to use pet names," I reply, even as Captain Control starts to grow on me.
She gives me a sly look, taking a sip of her wine before setting it down with a deliberate motion. Her hand finds my thigh, her touch firm and provocative. “Well, CC, I believe in equal treatment. No double standards between us.” Her determination both irks and intrigues me.
Just as deliberately, I remove her hand and place it under mine on her thigh. “Obey my instructions or be punished. No touching.”
“I will never simply 'obey' you.” Her defiance is loud and clear. “That word's another trigger for me. You'll need to find another way to get your point across.” She quickly adds, "Clarity is kindness, according to the book I'm reading," as if worried she's offended me.
Her mix of strength and vulnerability mirrors my own inner battle, making her even more fascinating. I clear my throat, adopting the authoritative tone I've honed through observation at the Masquerade. “Understood. But if we're going to proceed, you need to follow my rules.”
She throws me another challenging look before bowing her head.
I lead Rayne down the private elevator to one of the playrooms, each step heightening the sense of anticipation coursing through me. The room is a carefully crafted blend of stark functionality and intimate coziness designed to cater to a myriad of fantasies. It's a space where every detail is meticulously thought out, from the placement of restraints to the selection of toys that lie in wait.
As we enter the playroom, the large bed at its center immediately commands attention, its black sheets and plush pillows set against the pale wood floor—a striking visual that promises untold pleasures. But it's not the bed alone that sets the tone for tonight. The tools for our exploration lie on a sleek, dark wood side table: a silky blindfold and leather padded cuffs. These items, symbolizing sensory deprivation and restrained freedom, are deliberately placed, hinting at the readiness and intent for the evening.
The room, like all others in the Masquerade Club, is meticulously crafted, blending stark elegance with sensual anticipation. It sets the perfect stage for the dance of dominance and submission we're about to undertake.
Rayne's sharp intake of breath propels me forward. Now that the moment’s upon us, I want to push her, to see how far she'll go to please me. "Undress. Now."
She startles but recovers quickly, deftly pulling her dress over her head. I stop her as she bends to undo the garters holding up silk stockings and lightly slap away her hand. “Leave them.” I hand her the blindfold, a silent command she obeys without question. I circle her, drinking in her lithe form. Her curves beg to be explored, marked as mine.
I run a finger along her collarbone and down between her beautiful breasts. As I trace my fingers along her skin, I notice the subtle shiver that runs through her, sending a thrill of satisfaction through me. "On your knees."
She kneels immediately, back straight in a show of obedience that stirs my arousal. I caress her cheek, trailing my hand to her full lips. "Open."
Her mouth opens, and I slide two fingers inside, stroking her tongue. She sucks greedily, and I close my eyes, imagining her warm mouth on my cock, giving me exquisite pleasure.
Rayne's mouth feels warm and wet like a velvet glove around my fingers. I can feel her eagerness, her need to please me, and it sends a thrill through me. But I want more. I remove my fingers. Her soft whine of disappointment turns into a gasp of pleasure as I wipe her saliva on her large, swollen nipple before pulling it into my mouth. She tries desperately to control her breath as I pinch the sensitive nub, her hips shifting restlessly.
"So eager, yet you'll take what I give you. I'm going to learn every inch of you, Rayne, until you're writhing and begging for release." The words tumble from me, surprising me with their mixture of promise and power.
A whimper escapes her, a symphony of arousal and trepidation in each rapid breath. It echoes in the hollows of my own desire, amplifying the urgency that courses through me.
For the first time in forever, my desire surges as a vibrant, insistent force, battling against my inclination for a slow and deliberate exploration. I yearn to claim every aspect of her—her heart, her body, her very essence. Yet, the shadows within me loom large, reminding me of the parts I cannot offer. Some pieces of me are irrevocably cloaked in the abyss, segments of my soul I cannot bear to face.
Shaking off the shadows, I focus on Rayne's soft cries, each sound a brushstroke painting a picture of our temporary union. Tonight, she's mine, and I'm determined to etch myself into her memory. It's the only place I can truly belong to her.
Her body responds to my every touch, a canvas of sensitivity and yearning. I explore her with a reverence that surprises even me, my fingertips tracing paths that elicit shivers and sighs. In these fleeting moments, I allow myself a glimpse into what could be, even though I know it's a dream that can't last.
As I navigate the contours of her body, I'm acutely aware of the dichotomy within me—the burning need to connect, coupled with the ironclad resolve to hide my deepest self. It's a dance of shadows and light, where each caress is an offering and a barrier.
This night is a fragile thing, a bubble of time and sensation that I know will burst at dawn. Yet, I can't help but immerse myself in it, in her. She's a mystery that compels me, a challenge that I can't resist, even as I'm haunted by the knowledge that I can only ever offer her a fraction of who I truly am.
I secure the blindfold over Rayne's eyes, effectively plunging her into darkness. The act heightens her other senses, a fact betrayed by the subtle quickening of her breath. It's a surrender—not just to the darkness but to me, to the uncharted journey we're embarking upon together.
I trace a finger down her jawline, sliding over the delicate skin to the pulse point fluttering at her neck. The shiver that courses through her, a visceral response to my touch, sends a thrill of satisfaction through me. "So beautiful. So mine." The words are a possessive claim, slipping out unbidden but steeped in an undeniable truth. In this moment, Rayne belongs to me, a fact that stirs a fierce sense of protectiveness and ownership within me.
Yet, as I utter those words, a part of me recoils at the raw honesty they reveal. I'm not used to such open declarations acknowledging the depth of my needs and desires. Rayne has become an unexpected buffer in my tumultuous world, a beacon in the darkness I so often find myself engulfed in. The admission that she is 'mine' is both exhilarating and terrifying—a glimpse into a vulnerability I rarely allow myself to acknowledge.
Her trust in me, her willingness to let go and be guided by my hand, is a responsibility I don't take lightly. In her blindfolded state, Rayne is more than just a submissive partner; she's a mirror reflecting back my own need for connection, for something real and tangible amidst the shadows that I navigate daily.
I’m loath to share her, to expose this private world we've created to the harsh light of reality. If I had my way, I’d take her to the deepest bowels of my cave and never let her free. Tonight, this playroom is my cave and it will have to do. Here, in this secluded space, Rayne and I exist in a bubble of intimacy and exploration—a place where I can be both the master and the student, learning the contours of her desires even as I confront the complexities of my own heart.
It's a delicate balance, a dance of power and surrender, and with every whispered word and lingering touch, I'm drawn deeper into its spell. Rayne, blindfolded and trusting, is both my canvas and my muse, inspiring a tenderness and passion I didn't know I was capable of.
Pulling her to her feet, I cup her breasts, kneading the soft flesh and rolling her nipples between my fingers until they pebble. She arches into my touch with a soft moan, her hips rocking in a silent plea for more.
Patience, I remind myself, even as my erection strains against my jeans. I want to drive into her and claim what's mine in the most primal way, but I restrain my baser urges.
There's pleasure to be found in the journey, not just the destination. My power notes that every movement, both hers and mine, takes me further away from the horror that usually consumes my libido and tucks that nugget away for future consideration.
I trail kisses down her torso, circling her navel with my tongue before moving lower. Her scent intensifies, a mix of arousal and anticipation tinged with a hint of trepidation. She shudders, a silent admission that she's never been explored with such care. A surge of satisfaction ripples through me, my power resonating with this newfound connection.
My fingers trace her folds, swollen and slick with need. "So wet for me already. I've barely touched you."
A flush creeps over her chest and neck, deepening the richness of her gorgeous tawny skin. Her teeth nip at her lower lip again, drawing my attention back and amplifying her allure.
"No hiding from me. I want to witness every shudder of pleasure, hear each cry I elicit from you." A sudden insight strikes me—her vocal expressions help silence the relentless horrors in my mind. The discordant emotions roiling through our connection scream that Rayne is still holding back. "I need to hear you.” I give my voice a commanding edge, demanding her complete surrender.
Her breath catches as I expose her further, laying her bare to my intense scrutiny. I blow softly against her clit, and she jerks in reaction, a strangled moan that resonates deep within me tears from her throat. It's a revelation of how deeply in sync we are, how her body instinctively responds to my touch. A sharp jerk, a strangled moan rips from her throat—a sound that resonates within me, obliterating all else.
"Please, I need—"
I silence her plea with a firm nip to her inner thigh. "You'll take what I choose to give." A resolute thought fortifies my resolve: Tonight, I make you irrevocably mine.
30
RAYNE
The silk of the blindfold caresses my skin, plunging me into darkness. I'm at his mercy, the world reduced to sensation and sound. My heart thunders in my ears, a mix of excitement and nerves. This is new territory, and every part of me is alert, waiting for his next move.
His finger traces my jawline, sending shivers down my spine. "So beautiful. So mine." His words are possessive, and a part of me rebels against them. But another part, the part that's drawn to Jaden in ways I can't explain, finds comfort in them. It's confusing and thrilling all at once.
I'm not used to letting go like this, to surrendering control. My whole life has been about self-reliance, about building walls to keep people out. But here, with Jaden, those walls seem less important, more transparent. His touch and voice are dismantling my defenses, and I'm not sure how I feel about that.
