by Lola Darling
Inside, the place is packed. There’s dark wallpaper and ornate chandeliers, with a wrought iron balcony running around the top of the open main floor. I’m in a state of giddy awe as we walk through the room. People stop talking to look at us, and I hear whispers as we pass. I guess Dom is like a celebrity in this town. The hostess shows us to the best table in the house: right in the middle of the action. But Dom frowns, and lowers his voice to speak quietly to the woman.
“Of course,” she says quickly. “I just thought…I’m sorry.” She quickly takes us to a new table, in the back of the room.
“Is something wrong?” I ask Dom, confused.
“No. I just want us to have some privacy.” He caresses my bare arm as he speaks.
I’m not going to argue with that.
We’re seated in a more secluded booth, but still, people nearby are glancing over. Dom murmurs to the sommelier and waiter, before settling back and focusing his gaze on me. My pulse quickens immediately now that we’re finally alone. Sort of.
“So, this is what it’s like, being you,” I say, looking around.
“What do you mean?”
“The celebrity treatment. I bet the nine month waiting list for a reservation here doesn’t apply to you.”
He looks amused. “The owner was a friend of my father’s. This table is nothing more than a favor from an old friend.”
“Look around. Everyone is staring at us.”
He reaches for my hand. “Because you’re the most beautiful woman in the room.”
Fine. I’ll take the compliment. But I still shake my head at him to let him know he’s not off the hook. I’m curious what it’s like to be him.
Dom sighs. “People are impressed by the name, sure. But it’s just a name. Take that away and I’m an ordinary man, subject to cheap wine and waiting lists like everyone else.”
The alcove suddenly seems more private. Maybe because I block out the chatter around us and focus on him, excited that he might open up a little more about himself.
“Tell me about ordinary Dominic.”
Dom pauses. “Well, ordinary Dominic used to scrub toilets on the fourth floor after school for less than minimum wage.”
“No way.” I can picture him, tall and gangly in his expensive prep school uniform, holding a plunger.
He shrugs. “I shadowed the maintenance crew for an entire summer, learning how to fix everything from wobbly door handles to electrical fixtures. Didn’t get paid a dime for it, either.”
I think of his hands, too calloused to be tapping at a keyboard all day. “You’re still secretly fixing things, aren’t you?”
Dom looks surprised, then gives me a grin. “Every chance I get. I like putting things to order. Gives me a sense of harmony amid the chaos.”
“That’s great. I never realized.”
Dom shrugs. “I’ve had a lot of privilege, but that doesn’t mean I never had to work for it. Unlike my brother,” he adds, his smile turning colder.
I want him to talk about this—I know his brother’s return is weighing on him—but I don’t get the chance before our food arrives.
“Wow,” I blink, as the wait staff unload dish after dish of amazing-looking food. “Did you order for us?”
“I wanted you to taste everything I love.”
The waiter gestures, “Butternut ravioli with a filling of white chocolate, butternut squash and egg yolk, set in a fois gras sauce. Enjoy.”
Dominic places his napkin on his lap and I do the same. The tension that crept into his face when he mentioned Alexander fades away now. I’m glad.
The textures and flavors of the meal are rich and delicate and I savor each bite. I glance up and find him watching me – looking as if he wants to savor me the way I’m eating this food. Sparks of desire shoot between my legs, and I take a sip of wine to cool down.
“I’ve been thinking,” I say in a rush. If I don’t get control over the growing ache in my panties, I’m going to be dragging him out of here by his tie. “About the gala.”
“Me, too.” He pauses. “Perhaps we should cancel it.”
I set down my fork. “What? Why?”
“It might be better to wait until the drama dies down.”
“No,” I challenge. “This is the perfect time to remind people of the Rexford’s heritage and the things that make it so renowned.” The ideas I’ve been mulling over spark with new life. “There’s a reason Chicago has so many historic buildings preserved around the city. People here are proud of their past and they love to show it off.”
For a moment I think of my dad, but I push the memories away before I can miss him too much and lose track of where I’m going with this.
He looks interested. “Tell me more.”
I pause as nerves roll through me. Who am I to be suggesting anything? But he looks genuinely interested, so I explain.
“The plans for the gala right now are standard-issue party stuff: black tie, canapés, champagne flutes making the rounds on silver trays…there’s nothing exciting about it. But we could play up the history more, bring out old art or photographs, maybe even make it a theme with costumes. Showcase the impressive roster of celebrities and royalty who’ve enjoyed the hotel. Bring back the old menus, and then, let’s show them how the hotel plans to sprinkle modern luxury with the—”
Dominic sees someone behind me. His face changes, tensing. I turn.
It’s Blaine Prescott.
“Was I interrupting?” he asks, looking smug. Or maybe that’s just how his face is, I can’t tell. He looks super preppy in a polo shirt and khakis, all he’s missing is an obnoxious Rolex and—no, wait, there it is. I feel like telling him the 80’s called and want their movie villain back.
“Not at all,” Dom says smoothly. “My colleague and I were just discussing some ideas for our big anniversary party.”
Blaine eyes me nastily, his gaze raking over my body in a way that makes my skin crawl.
“I have to give you credit, Dominic. Pulling in a fresh young…talent…to try and dig you out of your hole. Well done.” He scratches his belly and leers at my chest again.
Ugh.
“How are things?” Blaine continues. “The promotion I ran hit you hard, didn’t it, Rexford? Don’t answer that. I know it did. But, hey, it won’t be your problem for much longer, will it?”
Dominic’s lips curve into a humorless smile, the kind that radiates danger and the threat of sudden violence. I expect Blaine’s lip to get busted at any second, but to his credit, Dom remains seated and far more composed than I feel. His ability to handle, well, everything, amazes me.
Dom puts his hand up, and a server comes immediately over. “Yes, sir, Mr. Rexford?”
“See that Mr. Prescott returns to his table with a glass of port, with my compliments.”
The server gulps, but Blaine can take a hint. “See you around, Rexford.” He strolls away.
There’s silence.
“Are you OK?” I ask. Dom’s face is set like stone.
He throws his napkin down. “Suddenly, I’ve lost my appetite. Let’s go.”
Chapter Sixteen
We drive to the Rexford in silence. Anger is still rolling in waves off Dom, and I don’t know what to say. I accompany him up to the penthouse, and he closes the door behind us and tosses his keys down.
“I need a drink,” he sighs, heading to the bar.
He loosens his tie, but I hope he doesn’t take it off. In fact, I want him in that suit. The way it fits his body, tight and commanding, is sinful.
Maybe I can help get Blaine off his mind.
I cross the room after him and move in close. “The last time we were here, I was naked on your bed.”
Dom turns, his anger fading, replaced with lust. “I remember.”
“Do you remember what you were doing to me?” I ask, tracing down the front of his shirt.
“Vividly.”
“Well then,” I drop a kiss against his neck. “Feel free to pick up wher
e you left off.”
Dom chuckles, and his commanding expression returns. “I think we’re going to do something different this time.” His lips graze my ear, and he whispers a thrilling demand.
“Get on your knees.”
His hands fall to my shoulders. He doesn’t apply any pressure, but I feel their weight as a question. Do I want to submit to him…to please him this way? God, yes. Dominic makes my inner sex vixen come out with a snap of his fingers.
Hell, he does it by simply breathing.
I slowly lower to the ground until I’m kneeling. My heart is pumping so hard, but I’m eager to please him. He’s already erect, the thick length of him pressing against the fabric of his pants.
I trace the outline of his cock with one finger and he sucks in a sharp breath. His hand slides into my hair, gripping a handful. “Take off my belt.”
My hands are shaking as I first unbutton his suit coat and spread it wide. The belt slips easily from the buckle and through the loops.
“Zipper.”
I unfasten the waist and let the zipper fall, my panties getting wetter as I part the sides of his pants, freeing his magnificent cock.
God, he’s big.
His hands go into my hair again, lifting it, gripping it as I stroke him gently. Teasing.
“You know what I want, Juliet.”
“Do I?” I challenge with a grin. “Maybe you’d better tell me.”
His hands tighten, twisting my hair while pushing me closer to his cock. “Suck me off, Juliet. Hard.”
Closing my mouth over him, I take him into my mouth. He groans, his cock twitching in response, growing even harder as I angle my head and take him deeper toward the back of my throat.
“Fuck. Juliet, yes.” The strangled sound of his voice inflames me. Slowly, I pull back, dragging my teeth lightly along his rigid length. I love the way he tugs my hair as I work him, in and out, bolder now as I find my rhythm.
I glance up to check, and find him looking down at me. Damn, that’s hot. I hold eye contact as I lick along his shaft again, until Dom lets out a groan and tugs me closer. I turn my attention back to his massive cock, bobbing along the length until he’s cursing under his breath. It’s powerful, knowing that I’m making him feel this way.
That he wants me to. That he wants me.
Suddenly, he pulls back and yanks me to my feet. His mouth crashes onto mine before I can even think. Dominic backs me into the sideboard and reaches for the hem of my skirt. The silky material gathers around my waist. He spins me and bends me over. A needy gasp comes from my lips as I instinctively spread my legs.
“This is so hot, Juliet. Seeing you like this, your ass in the air. Fuck.” Dominic slips a hand between my legs and under my panties.
I push back against him. “Yes, please.”
He kisses down along my spine while his fingers find my clit. He rubs me in slow, sure strokes, sending pleasure slamming through my body.
I moan out loud, trying to lean against him and press into his hand at the same time. His lips nibble a trail over the dip in my spine to the rise in my ass and leave flutters of sensation in their wake.
He rubs my clit harder, faster as he grabs my ass cheek and spanks me.
“Oh!”
“Did you like that?” He doesn’t wait for my answer as he spanks me again.
I moan in pleasure as he quickly runs his hand over the spot. The soothing warmth blends with the sting as the pressure in my clit builds. I don’t think I can hold on much longer. He kneads my ass, dropping slaps against the tender flesh and I’m suddenly in freefall as ecstasy shatters between my legs.
“Oh my God,” I moan, panting hard.
“My sweet, dirty girl. Turn around.”
He rips open a condom and slides it on, then helps me up onto the sideboard. I grip his shoulders for balance as he sits me on the edge and spreads my legs. I brace myself to feel his cock inside, but instead, he kneels and buries his head between my thighs. Two flicks of his tongue and I’m crying out again.
“Jesus, fuck, Dominic!” I grab handfuls of his hair as he licks me, working his tongue over my tender clit until the remaining heat of orgasm that was left behind rushes to the surface again.
I fucking come again and I’m still in the middle of it, grinding helplessly against his mouth, when he leans back and rises to his feet, pulling my hips forward to slam straight into me with one hard, deep, perfect thrust.
Fuck!
I throw my head back, gripping the edge of the sideboard for dear life as he fucks me with everything he’s got. I can’t move…nothing coherent will come out of my mouth. There’s only the sensation of his cock pistoning deep inside and the animal sound of his grunts in my ear. Harder. Deeper. Faster. I’m completely drenched.
Dom plunges into me, slamming so hard, so good, that my eyes fly open. As a rush of pleasure radiates through me again in another breathtaking climax, I feel Dom’s body stiffen then release with a loud roar. I catch the look on his face as he comes. It’s raw and honest and sweet, and as our eyes lock, I feel myself go weak. The look on his face.
I can’t even.
I’m gasping for breath as he falls against me and rests his head on my chest. I hold him tight, and I’m still falling.
I’m afraid I won’t know how to stop.
Chapter Seventeen
Dom has early meetings, so I take a cab home, and spend hours lying awake in bed. My endorphins are too high for me to sleep. That, and the replay of crazy, hot sex that runs through my mind every time I try to close my eyes. I fall asleep right before dawn and, somehow, manage to get up in time for my shift.
I walk back into the hotel, tired and deliciously sore. Dom is at the front desk, talking to some employees. I send him a secret grin, and wonder if he was up half the night, too. I slow my pace as I approach so I have more time to drink him in.
He’s dressed casually—dark jeans, a blue and white pinstripe button down, no tie. His features are neutral as he watches me approach, but I see the look in his eyes: hungry, like he wants a repeat of last night ASAP.
I wonder how fast I can get him out of those clothes.
“Good morning, Ms. Evans.”
I’m scared to give anything away around the other staff. It takes all my will to smile politely instead of pulling him in for a kiss.
“Good morning, Mr. Rexford.”
He walks to my side and tilts his head to indicate the elevators. I fall into step beside him, aware that staff is glancing at us. It’s weird how attuned I am now to other people’s attention. But maybe that’s because I’ve never given anyone so much reason to stare at me before. When I’m with Dominic, it’s like there’s a spotlight following us around, and nobody can tear their eyes away from us. Part of me likes it.
He leans down and whispers in my ear. “Did you sleep well last night?”
We’re alone as we stop at the elevator, so I look at him, really look at him. Our eyes meet with a force I feel all the way to my toes. Will my heart always flip when I see him? Will I always get this rush of exhilaration when he’s near?
God, I hope so.
“No. I didn’t.”
He smiles. “Good. Neither did I.”
The doors open and we step inside. Dominic stands close, his fingers sliding over the back of my hand. “There’s a team waiting for you in the boardroom.”
I stop. “What? Why?”
“I’d like you to share your ideas for the anniversary gala and get them implemented.”
“You’re kidding.” I panic. The event isn’t that far away. There’s no time to make changes now.
His hand slides into mine with a gentle squeeze. “I’m confident in you. Your ideas? Make them happen.”
The door opens, but my legs won’t move. I’m thrilled and horrified that he took me seriously. Feeling like I’m in a fog, I walk beside him to the conference room. Right before we enter, I realize we’re still holding hands. I let go, though I desperately want to hang
on.
Dominic, being him, simply saunters in and takes command of introductions while I hover beside him with my heart two seconds away from full-blown cardiac arrest.
“Juliet Evans, please meet the team from our events department.” Dom makes the introductions and then leaves.
“Come and see me when you’re finished.” His eyes drop briefly to my mouth before he exits, leaving me standing at the head of the table in a barely-controlled panic.
The women are looking at me, warmly. Expectantly.
I need a defibrillator.
“I’m…just an intern,” I stammer.
Oh. My. God.
Get it together, Juliet!
“However,” I continue, sending up a silent prayer of thanks to my father, “I’m well-acquainted with the Rexford’s history and heritage and deeply invested in the hotel’s continued success, so I have a few ideas for the gala that Mr. Rexford thought we could explore.”
Once the words are out, I feel stronger, more confident. I glance down at the table and notice a stack of old books next to a paper with my name on it. Gilded script on the top book reads, Guest Book. He got me the hotel’s historic guest books!
“Mr. Rexford spoke highly of you,” one of the women says, Diane, I think her name is. She’s older, intimidating, but her smile is warm. “We’re excited to hear what you have in mind.”
My throat goes tight, but I swallow down my emotion. I suppose I always figured Dom wasn’t really listening to me whenever I talked about my love for the history and architecture of the city. Instead, he’s encouraging me and giving me input into a major business event.
“I want to go back to the eighteen hundreds,” I say. “And show the history of The Rexford in a way that will have people talking about and remembering what real, classic luxury is.”
I run my fingers over the guest book. “Three movies were filmed here. Countless celebrities and royalty have stayed in our rooms. The Rexford survived the Great Fire in 1871 and acted as an underground speakeasy during Prohibition in the 1920’s and early 30’s.”
I have them hooked already. The women look at me intently, fueling me. I go on; all the ideas I’ve been pondering spill out.
