A Dom for Christmas Read online

  “You take it everywhere,” Cam said. “At first I thought it an affectation, now I take it for granted. It’s a bit battered and the diamonds around the bottom of her skirts could do with a visit to Rundle and Bridge for cleaning, but after my mama explained its significance to my family as well as yours, then I agreed it should be kept close.”

  “Significance?” Angie’s head was beginning to spin. It was just a Christmas ornament, wasn’t it? Okay, one that had been in her family for years. However, not two hundred years. Family lore said it had been a betrothal gift to her great-great-gran from her husband-to-be in Victorian times, when Christmas trees had just become popular. As for diamonds, Stuart had said that the stones around the bottom of the dress were glass and tawdry. Then he’d offered to throw it in the bin.

  “It was a family heirloom.”

  She’d agree with that bit, but the rest? “Okay, and what else?”

  “It was a toy given to you as a way to ensure you would always have wealth. It is important to my family as well, but that, I think, isn’t relevant. Those diamonds are worth a small fortune. Personally, I’d prefer it not to be carried everywhere, but I understand why you do it. After the break-in whilst we were on our honeymoon, and your jewelry boxes ransacked, we agreed to hide it in your reticules or cloaks in specially designed pockets. In the burglary, every item that contained diamonds was taken. Luckily most of your jewels were with us.”

  “Why though?” None of it made sense. She didn’t have diamonds. Hell, she lost earrings so often that Cam had taken to putting all the odd ones onto a bracelet. Then she bought new pairs from a local craft shop. Cheap and cheerful. “It’s not diamonds, they’re paste or something, surely?”

  He shook his head. “Stones of the first water.”

  Angie did her best to formulate her thoughts in some kind of order. “But Stuart said they were glass, that it was battered and tawdry and he was going to throw it in the bin.”

  Cam stiffened. “Stuart? Rawcliffe? What the hell does he know about this?”

  Oh shit. Angie had forgotten where she was and whom she was with. This Cam had no idea about the other Angie and Cam. How could she explain Stuart and his attitude? She waved her hand in a vague, you-know-how-it-is motion. “I knew him before I knew you. I finished our association, and he wasn’t best pleased. He’s a nothing.”

  “Hmm, I believe he has a lot of explaining to do. How well did you know him?”

  “Not as well as he wanted me to.”

  “I think that is something I can be grateful for,” Cam said. “We can discuss it further at a later date. For now, first things first. Please go on.”

  Grateful he hadn’t pursued the Stuart angle—for after all didn’t she read that deflowering should be done by the man you married—but under no illusion that he wouldn’t return to it as he promised, she nodded.

  “I think you might need the smelling salts now, not me.”

  Chapter Four

  Cam looked at the white-faced woman in his arms and cursed as she stood up and began to pace the room. Her all enveloping nightgown swirled around her legs and gave him a few tantalizing glimpses of her well-turned ankles. She held the ornament in her hands, and bit her lip. He could almost see the way she thought over and discarded words and sentences, before she came to a halt in front of him.

  “Do you love me?” Angelina asked him.

  Cam cleared his suddenly dry throat, and wished to hell he had his tankard of ale handy. “Why do you ask?”

  “It’s not usual for a couple to be in love, is it? Isn’t it supposed to be convenient and expedient and a good match?”

  Cam nodded. “All of those, but love may come into it.” He hesitated. The air was still and heavy, as if every mote of dust waited along with Angelina for his answer. “I loved you. I still love you. I saw you, wanted you, and soon realized that what I felt was more than want and lust. You completed me. My life was unfulfilled until we met.”

  She stared at him, and as he looked back, the color returned to her skin and her breath became shallower and more erratic. Cam took hold of her wrist and felt her pulse leap. “It’s true, my love. It may be unfashionable, but we decided we wouldn’t be conventional members of the ton and follow their diktat. We would be the Camberleys and make our own rules. One of which was to mean what it says in our wedding vows. We would love and honor each other.”

  “And obey?”

  He laughed, and Angelina grinned at him.

  “You told me you crossed your fingers when you said that, because you would only obey me at the appropriate times,” Cam said, and tugged her earlobe. “You also, whether you meant to or not, gave me an insight into your psyche. So if you do this.” He tugged her lobe once more. “It’s a sure sign you don’t really mean what you say.”

  “Sounds about right.” She knelt on the floor in front of him, and looked upward so he could see the mischief lurking in her eyes. “And did we define when those times were?”

  “When I demand obedience and you agree, is something we worked out, yes.”

  “And, My Lord, just when are those times?” Angelina buried her head in his lap, and nuzzled his cock through his pantaloons. “Here and now?”

  Damned if it doesn’t have to be. Cam held her in place for a few seconds to savor the rush of blood to his cock, which was now rock hard under her touch.

  “Here and now, lady-mine. If you are fit enough?” He tugged her hair so she lifted her head. “Do you remember now what we do?”

  “I remember, but probably not as you think I do,” Angelina answered, somewhat cryptically he thought. “So, My Lord, you may have to guide me. And I may be speaking out of turn, and earn that spanking I’m sure you promised me, but for fuck’s sake, fuck me. I’m wet, hot, and horny. The only reason I ache is because I want you in me, and if I don’t come soon, I might well explode.”

  “I don’t spank,” Cam said. Has she really remembered anything? Only the cheeky look on her face made him wonder if she was pushing him to see what he would do. His wife had always been ready to extend their boundaries, but this was more than he had ever heard or indeed expected. “I have other ways to bring you to order, lady-mine.”

  “Damn. I keep hoping you will do the spanking bit.” She knelt back on her ankles. “Just to see what it’s like. Ah well, sorry, My Lord, it was worth a try. Okay, brat time over. I well remember how you chastise me, and please, please, let me come. I think orgasm denial would be enough to put me back in a coma.” She bent her head and nuzzled his cock once more.

  The relief that coursed through him was well out of proportion to those words. Thank the Lord she does remember. Orgasm denial had always been his form of punishment, with every woman he had bedded. Although, since meeting Angelina, Cam had bedded no one except her. He accepted immediately that she was the one for him, and hang the conventions which said a woman supposedly indicated—in a suitably subtle manner—to a gentleman, that he was the one. Yet again Cam bucked convention. But then didn’t his activities in the bedroom go against what most people accepted?

  He hadn’t earned his nickname of Dang for nothing. Coined by one mistress who said bitterly that to take her to the edge and leave her dangling there, unable to come, was cruelty personified. He didn’t disagree, although he would perhaps have substituted masterful and dominant for cruel. Cam was definitely a dominant in every sense of the word. The only time he wasn’t in charge was when he handed the authority to someone else. Like, on occasion, in play with Angelina. But did she remember that? It seemed not. So now perhaps was the time to remind her?

  “As much as I enjoy our greeting, lady-mine, now is not the time. We need to talk. Now sit up and desist. It seems you remember this?” He tugged on her short curls, hard enough to bring tears to her eyes, and patted his lap. “Sit here, you will not snap me.” After all, if a ruler couldn’t, her soft curves wouldn’t. He pulled her onto his lap again and suffered her wriggling until she thought herself comfortable once more. Wit
h his cock nestling in between the globes of her arse, and begging to enter her secret hole, he certainly wasn’t.

  “I remember things that you won’t believe, My Lord, and things you talk about I have no idea…” She paused. “That’s not right. Some things I know only secondhand. My husband is dominant and I usually, but not always, am happy to follow his lead. He’s shrewd enough to read my shows and tells.”

  Cam had no idea what she meant. “Shows and tells?” he asked.

  Angelina sniggered. “Ear lobe pulling, you’ve mentioned. I’m as sure as hell not giving you any more ammunition. Things I do and you know what they mean, or—” She winked. “—you think you do. I’m not telling.”

  “Lady-mine, watch yourself.” Try as he might, Cam knew he hadn’t managed to keep his dominance out of his tone. “You might not have a sore head now, but I could easily increase your area of pain, both pleasant and not. No, do not look at me as if I’ve grown three heads. You know fine well, anything we do is consensual.”

  Angelina titled her head to one side and stared at him in a considering manner. Cam stayed silent, waiting, wondering. Not about what she was thinking or whether she agreed, but if she really did understand what he was trying to say.

  “I know, Sir.”

  That was all, but those three words sent a surge of heat through him. The title “Sir,” said in such a way, was cock stirring to the extreme.

  “And you remember we have words to ensure we are both happy with what we do?”

  “Um.” She twisted so she was looking into his eyes. “My Lord, are you open-minded?”

  What was she hinting at? Cam had no idea. However, the thought that she might not believe him open to new ideas was hurtful. But then, if she had lost parts—if not all—of her memory, how could she know? For the first time, Cam accepted he might well have an uphill struggle to get their lives to the stage they had been at prior to the attack. It was something through those long weeks of watching and waiting he hadn’t thought of. All his thoughts had been on urging her to open her eyes and come back to him.

  “I believe I am,” he said cautiously. “Dependent on the circumstances.”

  “Well then,” Angelina said. “Let’s just say my memories might not totally agree with yours.”

  “Tell me.”

  She grinned. “I haven’t forgotten that tone of voice, Sir.”

  He pinched the soft flesh of her upper thigh and she squawked. “Oy, sneaky. You said you don’t spank.”

  Cam shook his head in mock despair. “That, lady-mine, is not spanking, no chastisement, and hardly brought a tiny sting to you. Now, stop prevaricating. Tell me what you know about our lifestyle.”

  She took a deep breath and leaned into his chest, so her hair brushed his shoulders, and rested one arm around his waist. Something she’d done countless times, and he gave thanks she hadn’t forgotten. Unless, of course, things such as that were so deeply embedded into you, you never forgot them?

  “You are my Sir. My Master, and dominant in our relationship. You chose to…” She paused. “If I say dictate it sounds wrong. Argh, hell, let’s just say you direct and I follow. You say ‘assume the position,’ I kneel and follow our own protocol. We’re not 24/7 and we have a code if you like, so I know what level of play we’re indulging in. I have no idea if that’s the norm, but it adds a certain dimension to everything for us. Most of the time. If I want to argue the toss, I do, and accept what happens later. If I really can’t go for whatever you want, I’ll safe word out. We follow the traffic lights…fuck, you’ll have no idea what I’m talking about, will you?”

  Cam shook his head. “Not at all. No, that’s wrong. I was following you until you said assume the position, and traffic. I fail to see what coaches and such have to do with our lifestyle together. Apart from me demanding you must not come as I pleasure you with my mouth, and use a jade inside you, as the carriage goes over cobbles.”

  Angelina moaned and wriggled her arse over his cock. Her skin was flushed, and showed a faint sheen of arousal, in the tiny drops of sweat that dotted it. How in hades he could hold out against such blatant entreaty, he had no idea. Just what would be acceptable in the eyes of the doctor?

  Nothing. So I either forget him, or practice orgasm denial for us both. It was no contest. Cam stood up still holding Angelina and put her down on the daybed. She moaned again and he nipped her thigh, harder this time, as he lifted her night rail and spread her legs. Her mound was wet with the evidence of her desire, her nether lips flushed and welcoming. Cam forced himself not to move his hands higher and drive his fingers into her before he sucked and enjoyed her juices.

  “So, lady-mine. As you have a different view of what we are, perhaps I should refresh your memory?”

  “Just make me come and refresh me after.”

  ****

  Cam pushed her legs even wider, and knelt between then. The gleam in his eye was both welcoming and worrying. She’d seen one similar in the other Cam’s eyes, and it usually heralded something more than interesting for both of them.

  Gah, I must stop thinking of this Cam and that Ca… She stopped thinking of any Cam as his lips touched her pussy, and his teeth grazed her clit.

  When his tongue delved into her vagina, and mimicked the way his cock would fill her, she arched off the bed and into his hold, pushing her mound against his mouth.

  He drew back and tapped her bare quim. “Naughty. What happens when we get pushy?”

  Well, she knew in the twenty-first century he’d bring her to the edge over and over and then tie her and leave her unable to climax. But here and now?

  “I beg?”

  “Oh you do, and so sweetly, but we all know beggars can not be choosers. Are you one, lady-mine? Or will you lie back and submit?”

  Now there was a two-edged question. Damned if I do and damned if I don’t.

  She made her mind up. “Can I beg to be allowed to lie back and submit?”

  Cam laughed. “As ever you manage to twist something to suit you. Beg away, my love. Show me. But first. Do you truly feel able to play? Because if you indicate even one tiny reaction that tells me differently, I will be more than unhappy. Nothing is more important than your health.”

  That made sense. Angie mentally examined ever inch of herself. She took her time, and saw the approval in his eyes. It gave her a warm, mushy, and loved feeling. He truly did look after her, whichever life she was in.

  “Within reason, Sir. I don’t think bondage would work, or too much movement.” She ran her tongue around her lips. “And it would be very bad to deny me my orgasm.”

  “Hmm, then we best not play.” To her horror, Cam stood up and smoothed her night rail back down over her legs. “Perhaps you should rest. For I fear you shouldn’t orgasm in case it is too much for you.”

  Damn it, that’s not why he’d hold me back. Bratty is me.

  “Sir, I’m sorry I’ve been a brat. Please let me come? Just one little tiny orgasm.” She let all her pent up needs and desires show in the way she spoke.

  Cam laughed and stroked her cheek. “Angelina, you know as well as I, whether I withhold your orgasm or let you come straight away, little is never any part of coming.”

  “Busted.” She sniggered. “You’ve got me there. Seriously though, maybe if I orgasm it would do me good? I wouldn’t be all hot and horny, and I’d be able to rest. My skin is tight, my clit is tight, my nipples are tight, my vagina wet, oh and tight, and your cock is hard. Add all that together and I’m sure we could be creative.” Angie leaned forward and put her hands on his chest. It would have been better if she could stroke his nipples under his shirt, not over, but at the angle she was she couldn’t reach the hem.

  Cam moved back. “When your Lord says no, lady-mine, he means it. And added to that, just who is dominant here? Did I give you leave to take over? To demand or deny what is to happen?”

  Angie got nasty creepy crawlies in her stomach. It wasn’t often the Cam she knew spoke in that tone, but
it was final, and never boded well. She had to assume this Cam was the same. After all, surely if she was Angie and Angelina, he was Cam mark one and two.

  “No, Sir.” Her legs felt weak and wobbly, and she thanked goodness she didn’t have to stand on them. There wasn’t anything else Angie thought she could say. She looked at the floor and rubbed her fingers over her palms, and hoped this Cam didn’t remember it was definitely one of her shows and tells. The oh-God-I’m-nervous one.

  “Exactly, lady-mine.”

  There was a knock on the door. Cam walked to it, and Angie strained to hear the low-voiced conversation he held with whoever was in the corridor. She didn’t catch one word. Cam let the door close and walked across the room, to hunker down until their eyes were level.

  “Now, I want you to sit there, and do not move until I get back. And you are on your honor not to pleasure yourself.”

  Oh she knew he’d say that. Half of her wished he’d not felt the need to mention it, because it was a given unless she was told otherwise. But then, that was in the twenty-first century; she had no idea what they did in the nineteenth.

  She nodded and he cleared his throat. It was as good as a warning. “Yes, Sir.”

  “Good.”

  He didn’t even say where he was going or why, but left the room quietly. Angie sighed as the door shut, and looked around her. It was the first chance she had to take in her surroundings properly. The room was cozy, and feminine. The wall coverings soft shades of creams and gold, and the curtains a deeper golden velvet. Beside the daybed, a tambour frame with a hardly started embroidery waited for someone to add to the stitches. Not hers, then. Angie hated even to thread a needle, let alone use one. Next to it, on a low table, was a book, and she picked it up. She might as well read to pass the time. It wasn’t likely it was the sort of book to get her juices flowing.

  Idly Angie flicked open the cover and almost dropped the book. It was a diary, with Diary of Angelina McAllister written in cursive script on the first page. Her hand shook as she turned the sheet of vellum over. She was Angel Mairi McAllister from Stirling, Scotland. Not some nineteenth-century Angelina from heaven knows where. Her eyes blurred as she read the first entry.