Somebody's Angel (#5 in a Military Romance / BDSM Romance series) (Rescue Me) (9 page)

She pushed at his chest instead. “No, Marc. We need to talk.”

He tore his gaze away from her full lips but chose to ignore her words as he bent to nuzzle her neck. They hadn’t touched since this morning.

She wrenched herself away. “No!” She bowed her head. “I mean, not yet, anyway.”

Her nipples pebbled, and he ached to take one between his teeth. “Damn your timing, pet. I missed you today.” When he moved toward her, she held up her hands.

“Marc, we
need
to talk.”

Talk was the last thing Marc needed right now. Undeterred, he pulled her stiff body to him, nipped her earlobe, and whispered. “Talk about what,
cara mia
? How I’m going to turn you over my knee and spank you until you scream for me as you come?”

She melted into his embrace, but he knew he’d lost her to another stray thought the instant she became rigid again. She retreated. Reaching tonight’s objective of having sex with the woman he loved wasn’t going to be easy if she didn’t show better discipline. She’d improved in her ability to control errant thoughts in recent months as he’d continued to train her in the art of submission. What had happened to throw her off today?

Melissa
. It had to be the woman who kept turning up like gum on the soles of his Guccis.

Angelina moved around the foot of the bed, placing the dominant piece of furniture between them. The sight taunted him with the need to throw her onto the mattress and drive himself inside her.
Dio
, he needed her more than ever tonight.

Merda
. All he wanted to do all damned day was get back to Angelina, and now she was fixated on some lie Melissa had told her. Finding his ex naked in their room had nearly doused the fires and brought up memories best kept in the past. His gaze drifted to his gorgeous girl who made him want to—

Wait.
He looked down at her luggage sitting next to the door. Something niggled at his brain. “Why is your suitcase out?”

Angelina walked toward the door. “It’s not important anymore.” She took the case by the handle and began dragging it into the center of the room. A broken wheel left a black mark on the floor in its wake. He needed to gift her with some new luggage.

Focus
. Broken luggage wasn’t the issue here. He picked up the bag to carry it back to the closet. Definitely not empty. Then he noticed her clothes weren’t hanging next to his any longer.

A sense of dread threatened to overcome him. Marc set the case down and turned toward her. “You were leaving? Without me?”

Leaving me?

What the hell was going on? He’d been out on the slopes for a few hours only to come back and find his whole goddamned world turned upside down.

She took his hand and led him to the foot of the bed. “Come. Sit down.” When she started to sit first, he halted her, sat down, and pulled her into his lap where she belonged. Her dark-brown eyes looked worried and a crease formed between her brows.

He straightened his back. Enough of the games. “Tell me what’s going on.”

Angelina’s chin quivered, making him wonder even more what the fuck was wrong. Was this about the adoption crap Melissa was spouting a few minutes ago? Was Angelina worried there was some truth to him not being a D’Alessio?

No. Forget that.
Why would Angelina care one way or another? She wasn’t after the D’Alessio name or fortune.

“
Cara
, Melissa lies to suit her own purposes. She’s just trying to…”

She shook her head. “It’s not her. Well, not Melissa’s lie anyway.”

Who had lied to her? “Then what?”

She bit her full lower lip to still its quivering, the lip he should have between his teeth right now. His cock stirred.

She met his gaze, a crease in her brow. “Were you a gigolo?”

Aw, shit.
He did
not
want to talk about those dark days of his youth. He had no doubt where she’d heard about Master Marco. He’d shunned the title of Master at the club and elsewhere, hoping to shed all connections to his ill-spent youth.

How to respond? “A what?”

“Melissa said you used to perform…um, special services here at the resort. She hinted they were of a sexual nature. Is that true?”

Fucking Melissa strikes again.

Marc relaxed and forced a smile to his lips. “I see my reputation lives on.” He brushed the hair behind her ear. When she didn’t smile back, he sighed and grew serious. She needed to know all about him and what he’d been. Truth-telling time, no matter how distasteful it might be to say the words or remember that time in his life.

“It’s not as sordid as Melissa made it sound.” Not that it was wholesome either. Marc took a deep breath and began, “When I was seventeen, a guest at the hotel—a wealthy woman in her forties—introduced me to BDSM. I was bored, out of control really. It
wasn’t
about sex.” Marc needed to be clear about that from the start. “There was never sex with her or any of the women who followed. No money ever exchanged hands.” Did she really think him capable of that, even all those years ago?

What about…?

Focus.

His pulse raced. Marc pulled her head against his shoulder and stroked her silky hair remembering how he enjoyed brushing it out for her some evenings. Almost as effective as a spanking to relax her.

“Over the next few years, I gained a reputation among her friends—and then their friends—for a willingness to play the Dom in their fantasies. I was more their Service Top, if you will. In-the-know female guests would call me to their rooms or cabins. I wasn’t attracted to the women. I would call this my Dom-in-training period.” He chuckled, but there was no humor in the sound. He’d been so fucked up back then. The women had given him a sense of purpose, twisted though it had been.

Angelina was so quiet he had to push her away and lift her face in order to gauge her reaction. Tears shone in her eyes.
Shit.
Had he blown it again by not telling her about this part of his past? There were many things he was ashamed of and would rather not reveal to Angelina, but…

She reached up and stroked his cheek. “They used you, Sir.”

That she addressed him as if they were being formal surprised him. Perhaps she had a need to nurture him at the moment, bringing out her submissive side. Even more surprising, though, were her words. Obviously, she’d misunderstood.

“No, it wasn’t like that. They didn’t use me. I probably used them more than anything.”

She touched her index finger to his lips to quiet him. “You were nothing more than a plaything to relieve the lack of excitement in their lives. To fill the void left from the emptiness of their loveless marriages.”

Marc tried not to think about this period in his life. The only void he’d been trying to fill was the one in his own life. She made it sound as if he was a victim. Hell, he was seventeen. Lots of his friends were doing worse things sexually than he was doing with those women at that age.

“They had no interest in helping you understand your innate need to dominate. They exploited you.”

Hell, in retrospect, he wasn’t sure he had dominated anyone. They had topped from the bottom, getting whatever they wanted, not necessarily what they needed.

Probably not what Marc needed, either.

“I’m not sure my need to dominate was innate. It was a diversion at the time. I was bored.”

She smiled. “Oh, Sir, you very much have a natural need to dominate. Karla and I talked about it a couple of months ago. You, Adam, and Damián use the lifestyle to establish control over yourselves and your lives, especially since your last deployment.”

“You girls have been talking about your Doms behind their backs?”

She glanced away. “Sometimes you leave us to ourselves too long. Subs talk.” She shrugged and grinned as she looked back up at him. “It helps us improve as submissives to learn to please our Doms better, so we share information.”

Marc wasn’t sure if she was bullshitting him and making excuses for gossiping with her friend but one thing he knew was that he’d fought a losing battle trying to get those women at the resort to allow him to take charge of the scenes the way a more experienced Dom might have done. Still, something changed in him during his time with the cougars. Afterward, he was able to stand up to Mama and choose a degree that fit his personality better. He may have even used that newfound inner strength to make his decision to join the Navy and set a new course for his life.

“I didn’t truly find Domspace until I met you, pet. I just went through the motions.” For Angelina, he wanted to be the best Dom he could be. After merely playacting at the role for so long, he still wasn’t sure he knew what the fuck he was doing. In truth, he’d learned more about what it meant to be a responsible Dom by watching Adam and Damián in recent years.

“I hate that they took advantage of you, Marc.”

Wanting to get off this topic, he stroked her cheek. “It’s the past. I must say, though, I like your possessive streak.”

She quirked her brow at him in question.

“The way you stood up to Melissa…sublime. Thank you for believing in me,
amore
.”

She looked down at her hands, twisting them in her lap, but didn’t meet his gaze.
Shit.
Something else was wrong. He waited until, in a small voice, she asked, “When did you break up with Melissa?”

Marc’s heart pounded again with a vengeance. Would he ever be rid of Melissa and the memories of the past? He wished he could watch that vindictive bitch’s backside beat a hasty retreat for the last time. He’d never been more ashamed of anything in his life than his last two encounters with her. Marc didn’t want Angelina to know about that part of his past. But he had hurt her before by lying about how they’d met, almost losing her. Their time apart had made him miserable, even though they’d only known each other a few days at the time. He wouldn’t lie to her again even if he thought a lie would be better than the truth.

He swallowed hard and cupped her chin until she met his gaze. “As I said before, anything I might have had with Melissa ended abruptly that September day. Unfortunately, that day also ended my relationship with Gino.” Something flashed in her eyes and then dimmed.
Dio
, he didn’t want to share this with her. He realized how important it was to have Angelina love and accept him, but how could she love the cad he’d been?

He glanced down at the floor. “While that was the end of any emotional attachment, we had two physical encounters after that. I’m ashamed to say both included sex, not just play scenes.”

When Angelina tried to get off his lap, he held her tight and forced her to meet his gaze. “Wait.” Her chin quivered in his fingers, breaking his heart. “Angelina, neither time meant anything to me, but…”

His chest constricted. He fought to breathe. He needed to tell her but couldn’t find the words.

Trapped.

The walls began closing in on him.

“No, Gino! Stop lying!”

Needing some breathing room, he twisted until he could seat Angelina on the mattress beside him and stood up. “I’m going downstairs for a while.”

Marc walked toward the door needing to get the fuck away from her. He couldn’t bear to see the disappointment, even revulsion, he was certain he would find in her eyes if he told her anything more. That time in his life wasn’t open for reexamination.

“Marc!”

“Don’t wait up. I may be late.” He let the door slam and decided to take the stairs to expend some energy.

What was that bullshit Melissa said about him not being a D’Alessio? He’d come to Aspen this weekend to give Angelina a chance to meet his family, perhaps even to ask her to marry him.
Was
this his family? He was surprised how much it mattered that he be a D’Alessio in more than name. If he wasn’t, where did he belong?

Marc needed to alleviate the crushing weight smothering him right now. He couldn’t face Angelina knowing the truth about his sleazy past. He’d revealed enough. There had been two more times with Melissa. She didn’t need the tawdry details.

Downstairs in the lounge, he walked over to the bar and sat on one of the stools, ordering a bottle of his favorite pinot bianco. When Karen, the bartender, poured him a taste, he took the bottle and filled the glass. He knew it would be good. He needed to get numb, fast.

“Where’s Angelina?”

Marc looked up to find Damián taking a seat on the stool next to him, carrying an open bottle of Dos Equis with him.

“Upstairs.” His buddy was alone, as well. Marc asked about Savi and Marisol, not that he’d expect to see the little girl here in the bar.

“I think you wore Marisol out on the slopes today.” He could see the disappointment in Damián’s eyes and wished he’d been able to get his friend to try skiing. With his athletic build, he’d have managed fine, but it would have been easier if he’d just get the blade prosthesis Marc had seen other amputees use on the slopes rather than try to hide the fact he was missing his foot.

Not that it was any of Marc’s business. He couldn’t even regain control of his own life, and he’d been much less affected by their deployment than Damián had been. For now, Marc was content for them each to drink in companionable silence, lost in their own thoughts. Karen placed several bowls of snacks in front of them, apparently figuring the two of them were about to drink their dinner. He nodded his thanks.

Damián reached for a handful of pistachios and laid them in a row in front of him. He opened one and set the shells aside. “Anything you want to talk about?”

Was he sending out some sort of “let’s talk” vibe or something? “Not particularly.” Change of subject needed. “Tell me more about you and Savi. Where did you meet her?”

Marc listened to Damián’s story with more interest than he’d expected. Another reluctant hero. Finding an abused Angelina in the club last August under his watch as Dungeon Monitor Supervisor, Marc fully understood how Damián felt about rescuing Savi from those sadists at the hotel where he’d worked.