Minha Dona (Beyond The Game #2)

Prologue

Five Years Ago

The argument started, as most of their arguments did, over nothing.

It might have been about the restaurant, or the film they were supposed to see, or whose turn it was to choose what they did on a Saturday night in a city that offered a thousand options to two twenty-year-old women with more energy than sense.

Helena couldn’t remember afterwards what it was that had lit the fuse this particular time…

simply that one moment they were standing in Alessandra’s small studio apartment near campus, shoes on, ready to leave, and the next they were in each other’s faces again doing what they always did.

Arguing over who got to choose. Fighting for dominance.

“You always do this,” Alessandra said, her deep brown eyes flashing. “Every single time. I suggest something and you have to change it. You can’t just go along with anything.”

“Because your suggestions are always…”

“Always what? Say it.”

“Always about what you want. You never ask what I want.”

“I asked you twenty minutes ago and you said you didn’t mind!”

“I said I didn’t mind because I figured you’d already decided!”

They were close now, Alessandra’s face inches from hers.

This was how it always went… the verbal sparring that was half genuine frustration and half foreplay, the push and pull that had defined their relationship from the first week.

They were too similar, everyone said so.

Two alphas, two women who needed to be in charge, and the collision between them produced either the best nights out or the worst fights.

There was rarely a compromise anywhere in between.

Alessandra was beautiful when she was angry.

Helena had always thought so, even when the anger was directed at her…

in fact, especially when it was directed at her.

The flush that came to her olive cheeks, the way she set her jaw, the fire in those wonderfully deep brown eyes that sat beneath her effortlessly stylish dark brown, almost black hair.

She was no taller or broader than Helena but when she drew herself up to her full height she could somehow make herself thrillingly imposing nevertheless.

“You know what your problem is?” Alessandra said, her tone dropping as it always did when they were arguing. “You can’t let anyone else lead. Not in anything. Not ever.”

“That’s not…”

“It is. You know it is.”

Alessandra’s hand came up to Helena’s jaw, firm, tilting her face. Helena reacted on instinct, pushing the hand away hard, a flash of temper that was pure reflex.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t grab my face like you own me.”

Something flared in Alessandra’s eyes and Helena realised that she’d pushed the hand away harder than she’d intended, that she’d hurt Alessandra and Alessandra was too proud and too type A to let on, and then her hand pushed Helena’s shoulders, hard, pushing her backwards.

Helena stumbled, caught off balance on the verge of apologising, and the backs of her knees hit the edge of the bed.

She fell back onto the mattress and Alessandra was on her immediately, a tangle of limbs and frustration, Helena pushing up at Alessandra’s shoulders while Alessandra tried to pin her down.

They wrestled. Actually wrestled, two fit young women grappling on a narrow student bed, neither of them laughing, both of them breathing hard.

Helena got a hand free and shoved at Alessandra’s chest, but Alessandra had the leverage and she caught Helena’s wrist, forcing it above her head.

Helena’s other hand came up to push her off and Alessandra caught that one too, pushing, using her advantage to pin both wrists in one hand, pressing her weight down to hold Helena in place.

Helena bucked, trying to throw her off. Alessandra held firm. They were pressed against each other, faces inches apart, both of them breathing hard, and Helena could feel Alessandra’s heart hammering against her own chest.

“Get off me,” Helena said.

“No.”

And then Alessandra kissed her.

Not gently, not tenderly… it was fierce, claiming Helena’s lips with an aggression that was entirely new between them.

Helena resisted for perhaps two seconds before she was kissing back, just as hard, their tongues mashing against each other, Alessandra’s hand tightening on her pinned wrists.

It was more like fighting than kissing, each of them trying to dominate even in this, but Alessandra had the position and the weight advantage and Helena was pinned beneath her, trapped, and somewhere in the middle of that kiss something flipped inside Helena.

She stopped fighting.

Not gradually, not consciously… her body suddenly gave up its resistance, her muscles loosening, her wrists going slack in Alessandra’s grip, her mouth softening against Alessandra’s.

It happened all at once, like a switch being thrown, and the feeling that went with it was unlike anything Helena had ever experienced... a rush of glorious release.

Alessandra felt the change immediately. She broke the kiss and looked down at Helena, breathing hard, her hair hanging down around them.

Her expression was unsure… she hadn’t planned this, Helena could see that.

Whatever was happening, Alessandra was figuring it out in real time, running on instinct and adrenaline, very likely worrying that she’d just crossed a line that couldn’t be uncrossed.

Then, Helena saw something change in her expression…

she committed. Alessandra’s free hand went to Helena’s hair, gripping it, pulling, not gently.

Helena gasped at the pressure, at the pull, at the way it tilted her head back and exposed her throat, leaving Helena vulnerable in a way she’d never been before.

Alessandra looked at her, reading her expression, and whatever she saw there made her grip tighten further.

“Your jeans,” Alessandra said. Her voice was unsteady, yet commanding. “Pull them down.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Pull them down. Your underwear too.”

“I can’t move my hands.”

Alessandra hesitated, then let go of Helena’s wrists. Helena lay there for a moment, her freed hands above her head, suddenly able to move but not moving. She could push Alessandra off now. Could sit up, try to laugh it off, say that it had got out of hand and suggest they go to dinner.

But instead, her hands went to the button of her jeans.

Helena didn’t decide to do it. Her body just did it, her fingers working the button and the zip while Alessandra watched from above, her hand still in Helena’s hair, her eyes uncertain and filled with desire.

Helena lifted her hips and pushed the jeans down to her knees, the underwear with them, and the cool air of Alessandra’s apartment hit her bare skin. She shivered.

She didn’t push them further. She couldn’t, with Alessandra’s weight on her legs. The denim bunched at her knees, restricting her, an accidental restraint that neither of them had intended but that made Helena feel more exposed, more trapped, more helpless than if she’d been fully naked.

“I don’t…” Alessandra started to say, then stopped. She looked at Helena’s face, then down, then back to her face. “I’ve never… I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Neither do I,” Helena whispered.

“Do you want me to stop? If I’ve gone too far…”

Helena looked up at this woman: her girlfriend, her equal, her rival, who was pinning her down on a student bed with one hand in her hair and the other braced beside her head, who seemed to be running entirely on instinct, who looked as thrillingly scared and as aroused as Helena felt.

“No. Don’t stop.”

Alessandra kissed her again, less aggressive this time but still assertive, and her braced hand moved, down Helena’s side, over her hip, finding the bare skin of her thigh where her jeans had been pushed down.

Helena flinched at the touch, not from pain but from sensitivity, from the sheer erotic thrill of being touched like this, exposed and pinned with the denim bunched at her knees.

Alessandra’s hand moved to between Helena’s legs and Helena gasped because the contact sent a shock through her body that was so intense she thought for a moment she might black out.

She was soaked. She had been, she realised, since Alessandra had pinned her wrists.

Since before that even… since the hand on her jaw, since the wrestling, since the argument.

Her body had known what her mind hadn’t, had been responding to Alessandra’s attempts at dominance long before Helena had a name for what was happening.

“Helena,” Alessandra murmured, her fingers exploring, touching Helena in a place and a way that made coherent thought impossible. “You’re so…”

“Don’t talk,” Helena gasped. “Just… don’t stop.”

Alessandra didn’t stop. She knew exactly what she was doing with Helena, responding to every gasp and flinch and shift of Helena’s body, adjusting without being told.

Her hand in Helena’s hair pulled tighter and Helena moaned at the sensation, the grip on her scalp meeting the pressure between her legs.

The combination was building something inside her, fast, a coiling tension that she recognised well but that felt qualitatively different from anything she’d experienced. It was sharper, deeper, more consuming.

Alessandra shifted her weight. “Give me your belt.”

Helena complied, pulling the leather belt from her jeans, desperate for Alessandra to finish what she started but seemingly unable to do anything but obey.

“Wrists.”

Helena held them out and Alessandra took her hands from Helena’s body momentarily to wrap the belt around her wrists before tying a knot. Helena tried them and realised she was bound tight.

Alessandra moved to sit on the bed, her back against the wall, her feet dangling over the side towards the floor. “Over my lap.” When Helena hesitated she added, “Now.”