Chapter 36 (1)

Chapter 36 (1)
AURORA

"Present your breasts."
Marco's cool grey eyes were anything but hungry as he slowly drank in my naked body, which made me flinch. As always, the man was impeccably dressed, wearing a made-to-measure Brioni suit, having just returned from a tedious three-hour meeting. His squared jaw was shaved this evening, and his hair looked perfectly messy in a finger-raked style. 
I was tempted to reach out and run my fingers through them to relish the velvet touch. 
"And keep your eyes on me as you do, Aurora," he added on with his earlier vicious command.
I felt mutinous from within. It wasn't fair for him to be so immaculately dressed while keeping me bare and exposed. Every inch of my body was touched and kissed, and marked by him. 
I wear this man every day on my skin.
Marco knew that I wasn't embarrassed to shed my clothes in front of him or shied away from his touch, so to intensify my humiliation and maintain the balance of power exchange between us, he'd often employ these methods. 
I shifted slightly on my knees, thankful for the soft rug beneath me as I lifted my breasts as an offering. He took my nipples between his fingers, stroking and rolling them alternatively, all the while his gaze locked in on me. 
His lips were tilted up in a smirk, and those eyes held a dark promise of something lewd and sinister. 
"Ask me to clamp your nipples."
I frowned immediately. I hated begging as well as the clamps, but neither was a hard limit. It was just my aversion. And as soon as he sensed it, he twisted my nipples to reprimand. 
"Oh, fuck! Please!" 
"I did not hear you beg."
"That's because I didn't." I glared.
"Give me your safe word," he demanded, now rubbing the sore tips. "Or figure out how to satisfy my demands."
My lips thinned with indignation, but I knew better than to use my smart mouth for a retort. Marco, as a teacher, was flexible, but as a dominant, he was unyielding. His word was law. 
"Please, Master, clamp my nipples." 
"There's my good girl," he crooned. His words wrapped around me like a comforter, and like the predator he was, he immediately sensed what his praise did to me and delivered more. "So obedient and sweet." 
I watched him fish out an evil-looking pair of tweezers with a sturdy chain running between. 
"These are Japanese clovers," he explained, dangling the object. "I have never put them on you before because you were not ready. But now you are." 
I eyed the thing suspiciously. "How badly are they going to hurt?"
"Whatever the pain is, you will take it." His tone brooked no argument. 
In all certainty, he was going to clamp them on me. He murmured a series of details about the clamps, but none of them seemed to help tolerate it. When he squeezed my nipples, one at a time, and clamped them, I wanted nothing but to yank those off my breasts. 
"Ow. Ow. Fuck!"
"Breathe through the pain," he ordered unhelpfully. 
I tried and failed, cursing him through her land back until my body was accustomed. The sharp pain slowly settled into a dull ache, and I opened my eyes. 
Stormy grey eyes regarded me with a wolfish grin. With one hand, he fisted my hair to rein in his control while his other hand found the chain between the clamps.
Fuck.
And he tugged a little.
"Master, please."
"Some dominant uses this as a leash," he told me conversationally. "And the harder you tug, the tighter it gets. Now, stand."
I rose on my shaky feet, slightly looking down at the clamps. They did not hurt anymore like they did when he put them on me, but it was somewhat uncomfortable. 
A girl can't just roam around wearing weird clamps on her nipples now, do they?
"When are they coming off?"
"Whenever I want." He trailed a finger around the underside of my breasts, his touch almost tickling as his gaze slowly reached mine. "I could put weights on them if you would like some more pressure."
"Point made. No whining."
A vicious smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he nodded. Marco led me to the bed and had me eagle-spread in a matter of minutes, positioning himself on top and then using his mouth in every wicked way possible. His tongue lashed against my exposed sex, making me thrash against the bed. But when I was on the verge of coming, he'd pulled back. 
The bastard.
For the rest of the evening, he'd bring me to the edge with his fingers and mouth alone, again and again, until his diabolical intentions were satiated. Only when I begged with screams and tears did he let me come. He let the wave of climax wash over me, cradling me in his lap until I recovered. 
Sex with Marco was like waging war. But it was also the stuff of dreams.
"Sweetheart, I am going to remove the clamps now," he said, cradling my body with one hand. "It's going to hurt."
It was all the warning he gave, and before my foggy brain could even register it, he had them pulled out.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!"
With a steady hand holding me by the nape, he lowered his mouth and sucked on the tip. He licked until I stopped writhing, and the hurt subsided. 
"God, you are beautiful when you cry like this," he moaned, wiping the tears with his thumb. 
"Master."
His hand pressed tighter against my skull and imprisoned my gaze. "Never let anyone see this--see your tears. These are for me, only for me. Say it."
"I don't think anyone else can ever make me cry." I sighed, resting my head on the crook of his shoulder. 
"Give them hell if they do."
I jolted awake and jackknifed up on the bed, covered in sweat and pounding heartbeats. I could still feel his heavy baritone against my ears, humming orders and whispering words. His dark promises and threats lingered on the back of my subconscious like a haunted dream.
For years, I'd let that man break me only because I believed he'd put my shattered pieces back into one. Now that he's gone, laying devastation in his wake, I didn't know how to find my way back to normalcy.
I didn't cry easily or let my weakness reflect anymore. He'd already broken me of the habit a long time ago.
Marco would frustrate me to the point of madness during my training and in bed, and if I ever wanted to scream 'not fair' in his face, I knew he'd tan my hide for complaining.
I rolled off the bed and ambled towards the bathroom, splashing water on my face. When I came out, the clock glowed three in the afternoon.
I didn't bother to open the drapes of the hotel room, craving the isolation for a few days. After I had stormed out of the Romano mansion that day, I could not bring myself back to Marco's place.
So I had checked into a hotel with limited funds and a different identity, just until I could think straight. I had to shut off my phone and ditch contact, knowing the compulsive nature of Marco. Even Sammy didn't know the details of my whereabouts.
Except for one person.