“What else would I call him?” We’re dating. I’m dating a Dom.
A thrill courses through me as I head for the door.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Enjoy your fuck fest.”
“Will do.” I throw the comment over my shoulder as I step out into the hallway.
The elevator is still on our floor, so I slip in and press for the lobby.
My phone buzzes in my pocket.
Ryder: Time is ticking. Do I need to come up? ;0)
Me: No need, Sir. I’m in the elevator.
It’s not until the doors ping open that my smile drops.
John is walking toward me with a sneer on his face. I haven’t seen him since the day he left a handprint on my arm.
“Whore,” he mumbles under his breath.
“Excuse me. What did you just call me?” I can’t let it slide.
“You heard me.” He reaches for me again, tugging my wrist so hard I drop my overnight bag. “Whore.”
As I try to break free, Ryder comes barreling in the lobby doors before grabbing John by the throat and pinning him against the wall.
“Who the fuck do you think you’re touching?” He looks at my wrist, red where John was holding tight.
“You’re the fucking guy who left bruises on her. I’m pretty sure she told you never to do that again.”
He jams John’s neck against the cold marble tile with his arm, his face full of rage I’ve never seen before.
“There’s CCTV in here. I’ll call the police.”
“What, don’t want to fight someone your own size?”
“She’s a fucking whore.” It’s a red rag to a bull.
He slams John’s head against the wall and sucker punches him. I hear his nose snap. It’s definitely broken. “If youeverso much as breathe in my girlfriend’s direction again, I will fucking end you. Do you understand, little man?”
He nods, unable to speak with Ryder’s arm on his throat. When he finally releases him, I’ve got my bag in hand and make my way over to the concierge.
“Hi, Bruce. I’m wondering if the CCTV cameras are working tonight?” I say with a conspiratorial smile. He looks at John with disgust.
“I don’t believe they are, Ms. Struthers. I think I forgot to switch them on. I’ll be sure to do that in the future.”
Ryder wraps his arm around my shoulder, his body tight as we walk out to his car. “Are you okay? Your wrist is red.”
“I’m fine. Don’t let him ruin our night.”
“I should go back in there and beat the shit out of him. That’s what he deserves.”
“Don’t. He’s not worth it.”
“But you are.” He takes my overnight bag and tosses it in the trunk before opening my door. I watch as he moves around to his side, the firm set of his jaw radiating anger. When he pulls into traffic, I breathe a sigh of relief.
