“Yes,” I answer breathlessly, knowing that every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday, I’ve worn a similar outfit simply because he once requested it of me.
“I wonder, Sophia, if you’ve met myentirecommand about your outfit,” his voice hypnotizes me. His touch brands me once again but his hands haven’t touched me except for moving my hair out of the way.
Before I can answer him, I feel his fingers hitching my skirt up one millimeter at a time. The tortuously slow pace is killing me and I’m ready to tear all of my clothes off for him. But, I know that will actually only delay things. This is the way my Dom likes to do things and I love what he does to me.
When he’s finally pulled it up far enough, I shiver uncontrollably as his hand reaches between my legs from behind. His finger finds my heated core and gently strokes me back and forth. His mouth is again at my ear and I instinctively lean my head to the side, giving him all the access he wants. His mouth pushes against my ear at the same time his finger thrusts inside of me. He strokes me eagerly as his whispers become louder, “No panties, Sophia. You followed my orders well, my girl. And you’re so wet for me – before I’ve even touched you. I wonder, has my sub missed her Dom?”
His tempo quickly increases and he adds another finger, stretching and filling me. His movements become rougher, exactly as he knows I love it, and I want to squirm. I want to ride out this feeling and I want to give him all the pleasure I can possibly give. But, my Dom has told me before that I’m to remain still until he tells me to move – so that I don’t resist the pleasure he’s giving me. He pushes me to limits I didn’t know I could take and gives me more pleasure than any woman has a right to ask for.
“Yes, Dom, so much,” is all I can manage to verbalize. I’ve missed him more than I could ever explain. More than he could ever know.
The tightening and pressure building inside me is tremendous. Dom has a strict rule about me reaching climax before he tells me it’s okay to do so, but I’m seriously considering taking the punishment and just letting it go right now. It has been so long since I’ve felt his touch that I’m about to burst into flames. My ability to fight it is waning and it’s about to happen with or without my consent.
My body is suddenly cold and bare. The warmth of his bare chest is gone. The sweet, warm breath of his whispers has disappeared. His hands are no longer on me, bringing me to the most exquisite pleasure I’ve ever felt. I’m standing alone in the middle of the room, as if I’m a statue on display, and he has completely retreated from me. The sound of the stopper and decanter are all I hear before the liquid is poured. I hear him swallow one shot. Two shots. Three shots.
Then, he’s suddenly behind me again, but he’s not touching me. His voice is cold and distant again. He mocks and ridicules me with his next words.
“Do you really think you can just show up here and I’d just take you in? Give you what you want?” His voice becomes more forceful, “Give you pleasure–only for you to fuck me over again? You’re out of your fucking mind. Get. Out. Of. My. Fucking. House.”
Straightening my skirt, I turn to leave, as he demands. I still can’t make eye contact with him. His blue eyes are probably blazing through me and I can’t bear to look at them and see the hurt, the anger, and the hatred toward me. He doesn’t understand it–any of it. He doesn’t know yet why I had to do what I did and now I’m afraid he will never let me tell him.
Before I reach the door, his parting words shred me to pieces and I don’t know if I’ll ever recover from them.
“I am not your Dom,” he enunciates each word clearly and forcefully, leaving no room for doubt. The sobs wrack my body before I even take the first step out of his home.
God help me. What have I done?
Eight WeeksEarlier
I’m in my office working on contract negotiation replies but I can’t keep my mind focused on what’s in front of me. The stress of this whole mess is going to be the death of me.Death. That thought alone makes me shudder as the scene of the house fire tortures me, set on an endless loop to repeat in my mind. I drop my face into my hands and fight back the anxiety that threatens to overwhelm me.
Dom was almost killed and I know that was the sole purpose of the fire. I don’t believe it was intended for me since I wasn’t even supposed to be at his house on Sunday nights. Dom insisted that I stay with him all weekend after we’d been apart during his business trip. The truth is, I wanted to stay with him and never leave, but I knew it would cause trouble in one way or another.
As if my thoughts could conjure the devil himself, my phone rings and my whole body cringes when I hear his voice on the other end.
“Sophia Vasco,” his tone is mocking, “are you ready to do your Master’s bidding?”
“You arenotmy Master and I’ve told you forweeksthat I’m not helping you any more,” I spit out at him through gritted teeth.
“Don’t talk to me like that, you little bitch,” his disgruntled voice yells at me. “I own you and you will do what I fucking tell you to do, when I fucking tell you to do it. You know that man that’s been fucking you? Yeah, I got plans for him. I will ruin him one way or another. And youwilldo your part.”
Dom has the sexiest Southern drawl I have ever heard. The timbre of his voice changes depending on what he has in mind, but it always soothes, excites, and owns me. Dominic’s voice sends shivers down my spine and chill bumps across my skin without even trying. Harrison’s drawl and ignorance, on the other hand, only serve to irritate me, grind on my nerves, and evoke feelings of deep resentment.
That is exactly what’s happening right now.
“Harrison,” I feel the vein in my neck throbbing with my anger, “Leave. Him. Alone. You are wrong about him and I’m not having this conversation with you again.”
“Well, well. He’s fucked you real good, hasn’t he? I bet he’s had you every way ‘til Sunday, but he’s even managed to mind-fuck you, too. How ‘bout I give him a call and tell him what you’ve really been up to? How’d that be?” Harrison laughs as if he’s just said the funniest thing ever heard.
I’m not laughing.
“Why don’t I save you the trouble and tell him myself?” I throw my free hand up in the air as I ask, gesturing wildly at his crude comments. The fear building in the back of my throat threatens to choke me because the one thing I’ve feared the most is that Harrison would do just that. I’m scared that he will tell Dom before I get a chance to explain.
I hang up on Harrison, leaving him to wonder if I will really do it or not. It’s in this moment that I decide, without a doubt, that I have to tell Dom. He deserves to know the game that’s being played, and my part in it, before the next stunt kills him. This scares me more than anything I’ve ever done - more than running into that burning building, more than what is at stake if I double-cross Harrison, and more than what anyone else will think of me.
If I lose Dom, I don’t know if I can recover from it. He has become everything I thought no one would ever be. He is good, kind, and loving. He cared about me, and my safety, before he even really knew me. He moved me out of that awful apartment in the gang territory without a second thought. He’s taken me in, shown patience and understanding, and has given more love than anyone I’ve ever known.
Rising from my desk on shaky legs, I slowly walk down the corridor toward his office. Realizing it’s now or never, I have to tell him everything before Harrison calls him first. Knowing that bastard, he would do it just to spite me. As I approach, I hear Tucker and Shadow talking with Dominic but someone steps into the office with them before I reach his door.
