Mistress of Redemption (12 page)

Nathan. Is she right? Is it all just the

rush?”

“No,” he said with sudden

fierceness. “You think… You look

around and think, why can’t I feel

like them? Laugh like them. You only

feel when you hurt someone.

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Mistress of Redemption

That just makes you want to hurt the

next one even more.” He strangled on

a harsh laugh. “How are you doing

this to me? A spell? This place?”

“The way you desire to hurt others is

a drug. You have to give it up to find

what you really want,” she replied

softly. “You have to face what

caused you to become addicted to it

in the first place. That means you

need to stop talking in third person

and face yourself.”

He stared at her and she waited,

watching his mind process her

words. “Once you do that, what’s

left?” he asked at last.

She found her voice suddenly not

steady, as the look in his eyes took

her back to a place she didn’t want to

go. “You may find there’s nothing

left. Nothing real.”

He closed his eyes. “This pain…is

clean. Do it all over again, Mistress.

Over and over, again and again. The

way you hurt me…it’s different. Just

keep hurting me like that and maybe

that will become what’s real.”

The trembling in his hand increased,

the stress overtaking him. Fiona

might think he was incoherent, but

every word made too much sense to

Dona. He made her ache.

Reaching up, she closed her hand on

his forearm, holding her grip there to

steady him.

How could she not, when the painful

perplexity and the rage warring in his

heart were making her heart break?

She’d hoped she didn’t have a heart

anymore.

“I like you adorned like this for me. I

like you suffering for me. But I have

plans for you.” The indifference she

summoned up in her own eyes almost

faltered before the uncertainty in his,

because it pierced straight through

the block of ice around her heart.

“So now I’ll take all the pain away

as I promised. The bad kind of pain.”

Feeling his hand slide naturally to a

place at the back of her neck under

her hair, she leaned forward over his

left nipple. He tensed, his fingers

curling, but he did not impede her as

she closed her mouth over the tender

area.

Nathan sucked in a breath and then

released it, his eyes widening as her

tongue laved the jewel, the abused

nipple. She knew the raw, throbbing

pain had disappeared at the touch of

her mouth, replaced with heightened

sexual intensity that nipples

experienced once the piercing was

well healed. His ragged breath spoke

of pleasure instead of pain as she

continued to nibble on him, nuzzle,

tug on the loop. When he grunted in

distress, she saw his cock had started

to rise, those piercings not having

had the benefit of the healing agents

in her mouth. She moved with

leisurely deliberation to the other

nipple, attending him there, watching

him alternately squirm and writhe.

Heard him curse as the pain of his

cock warred with the pleasure she

was providing his nipples.

Dona moved down his belly. Tracing

her tongue over each of those well-

cut stomach muscles, enjoying the

taste of his hot, smooth skin, she

summoned the organic bindings to

shorten the tether on his arms, so that

she moved out of the range of his

touch. She saw his hands dig into the

grass as her breath touched his

erection. When he groaned, it made

her wet. Wetter. The power of giving

him so much pleasure and pain at

once made her feel almost drunk with

it. She wanted to nuzzle and torment

him for 47

Joey W. Hill

hours, see and feel that body buck,

hear his voice cry out for her, plead.

Blowing on him, she watched the red

skin fade. As the bruises vanished,

she stroked her tongue up that ladder.

He uttered an animal sound. She

sampled his pre-cum trickling down

his rigid staff, the flavor mixed with

surgical steel, the residue of blood

and musky skin.

“Mercy, Mistress. God, please…”

She had no interest in mercy now that

she had his taste, his heat in her

mouth. She wanted to ride him, feel

that ring that had pierced the thin skin

of the urethra flick against her inside

like moth wings while the ladder

stroked her with the primitive

roughness she liked. She wanted to

pull on his nipple rings as she rode

him, see him flinch. Have him

hoarsely beg her to let him come, let

his hard cock spurt into her, bathing

her with heat where she’d been cold

so long.

She loved his eyes. How evil could

grow in a soul that shone so

beautifully through those blue irises,

she couldn’t begin to understand. His

blond brows were thickly feathered,

low, so the deep set of his eyes

beneath them gave him a depth of

intensity that could pull her inside

him. Though she saw many things she

didn’t like there, there were shades

of other things hiding in the dark

jungle his soul had become, asking to

be saved. Asking her to bring in light

and make the blue sparkle with the

facets of precious gems. A light that

could drive out his demons and help

her
forget.

She stilled abruptly. She couldn’t

forget. That was a crazy thought.

How could she erase a pain so

intense she’d wanted to stop

breathing?

“Something I can do for you,

Mistress?”

She looked back toward his face. In

the light of the sun, fanned by the

shadow of the palm fronds rustling in

the breeze above them she caught it,

just the barest flicker.

Calculation. The evil had felt her

coming. It was whispering in his ear

that the vulnerability she was

demonstrating through her desire was

giving him the upper hand, that soon

he would have control. Control was

the most important thing.

It was as Lucifer had said. Nathan

had so far to go. It wasn’t like the

movies, where in two hours a person

could change his life around. Save

the world, get the girl. Live happily

ever after.

It made her angry at him, at Lucifer,

at herself. She’d let down her guard

because he was her other half. Soul

mates. Romantic, mortal nonsense

that had turned out to be cosmically

true. She felt sure that it was true

specifically to bedevil her in a place

that had plenty of devils and demons

already.

She rose, towering over him,

knowing it would increase his sense

of helplessness and subjugation to

her.

“The pain’s breaking you down,” she

observed with a coolness not

matched by the fire roiling in her

blood. A fire that demanded she take

him into her body as much as it

demanded that she scream at him,

hurt him. “I can’t believe you fooled

so many women. Now I understand

the arrogance and the confidence you

keep trying to exercise even here, in

a place where your every action is

transparent. Work a bitch on Earth,

work a bitch in Hell, what does it

matter? We can all be played.” She

bent, 48

Mistress of Redemption

making sure he couldn’t help but be

tortured by the sight of her breasts

trembling above the tight hold of her

corset. She slid one long fingernail

through the ring on his left nipple.

He was a hard-core Mistress’s

dream, aroused by pain and torment,

hungering for the contrast of a tender

touch at unexpected moments. She

could see that sweet, submissive part

of his soul so clearly that he could

not. For the other souls she’d

redeemed, having that clarity had

been a roadmap to the final

destination. With him, it was the

shine of gold treasure, obliterating

the path entirely. She just wanted to

make him serve her. Keep him

forever. Torture and tease him, bring

him to climax in ways he couldn’t

even imagine.

His lips curled back from his teeth as

she tugged hard enough to make him

arch up against the pain. She held him

that way, his upper torso in a

crescent that he had to hold unless he

wanted the ring torn out. “With one

blink—” She closed her lashes,

reopened them and watched his

expression transform from discomfort

to outright agony as she brought back

the raw pain of the newly done

piercings. When she blinked again,

he froze, his expression confused as

the pain vanished just as quickly. “I

can make everything change for you.

I’m running the orchestra here. You’ll

sing and play exactly as I wish.

“Our lives are lives of self-illusion,

Jonathan. We create mirrors,

surround ourselves with them. Those

mirrors hide the real images of our

lives, of who we are.” As she

brought her face even closer, she

could tell he didn’t know whether to

be fascinated by her proximity or

terrified. “When you were under the

water before, when they were bathing

you, what mirror did you see?”

“What?” The confusion increased.

“Mirror, I didn’t see—”

“Who did you see?” She twisted

hard, her finger now threaded through

that D-ring up past the first knuckle.

The nipple screwed into a smaller

point. Even as his upper body stayed

as still as possible for his self-

preservation, his hips bucked the

small amount allowed against his

restraints.

Oh yes. It made her throb, watching

the fascinating fight between his

soul’s desire to give her everything,

surrender totally, and his frightened

ego’s attempt to hold on to control.

She could imagine the way he would

beg if his soul won. The way his blue

eyes would fire with lust, those hard

muscles straining, just for her. Her

name a gasp on his lips, his cock

hard inside her, driving deeper as she

urged him on. He’d talk dirty to her,

say things to make her come, because

she’d get absorbed in watching the

words form on his perfect lips.

Her anticipation was too sharp,

interfering with her focus. She

needed to release her tension, or at

least spill some of the boiling water

out of the pot to keep it from

overflowing altogether. Well, why

not? There was no rule against it,

though it was something she’d never

done with her assignments before. It

was going to shock Fiona and the

others. The moment she gave herself

permission for it regardless, a hard

shudder went through her.

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Joey W. Hill

“We’ll go back to the question later.

You think about it.” She released him

abruptly, straightening. “Right now,

I’m going to fuck you.”

50

Mistress of Redemption

Chapter Six

Nathan couldn’t keep up with her.

Couldn’t follow one thought before

she had him chewing on another. The

mirror reference brought back that

hated face below the water, but Dona

drove that and everything else away

with that one electrifying

announcement. Since she’d come

back, there was a feverish quality to

her that made him wonder what had

happened. Who she’d met and why

she seemed to have a razor-sharp

edge of hunger honing her words, her

touch.

She spun in a circle, loosing her hair.

As she did, the clothes she wore

melted away like paint, running in

sensual rivers down the curves of her

body before vanishing into the grass

beneath her feet with no evidence of

their passage. Now she was as naked

as he was. So different, though. So

many soft and wonderful places

where he was hard.

There were those who said a woman

was sexier in scanty clothes than she

was completely naked. They’d never

seen Dona. Lush was the perfect

word. Heavy breasts, tiny waist,

generous hips that flared out, telling

him her ass would be worth begging

to see. Her legs, while not long, were

toned and slender, making him

imagine how snugly she’d hold him

while he fucked her. If he could get

up, he’d lift her, slam her up against a

palm tree and just bury himself inside

that wet pussy.

She’d been playing so much with his

head, this switching of gears was like

a gift from God. When she stepped

back over him and simply lowered

herself onto his cock, he realized