by K Larsen
“Oh.” I’m shocked at his assessment of Sawyer seeing as they’ve only growled at each other in a pissing contest. The server appears, clears our plates, and brings out dessert as the lights dim in the stunning dining room.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“A show,” he states, simply grinning.
Seven scantily clad women prowl into the dining room as “Seven Devils” fills the room. Six are in black and one is in red. They undulate with the music, moving sensually. They are quite good and I find myself mesmerized with their fluid movements accompanying the haunting music. It’s almost burlesque-like as they shift and slither in the dim lighting. Dom rests his hand on my thigh but I’m too engrossed in the show to protest. I’m not even interested in the dessert waiting on the table. His thumb sweeps back and forth slowly, moving the silk softly on my skin. As the dance continues, his fingers drift dangerously up my thigh and inward and I gasp as his thumb brushes the spot where my hip meets my thigh. My eyes scan his face before locking on his dark eyes. He leans forward. “Are you enjoying it?” he breathes in my ear. His breath is hot and it tickles my neck. I feel like I’m on fire. How does he do that? I turn my head slowly, bringing us nose to nose. His stare is intense and unwavering as I answer, “Yes.”
I move my face a centimeter closer to his and watch his eyes drop to my mouth as I wet my lips. I tilt my head a fraction in invitation and am shocked when his lips crush mine. All my hesitation dissolves as my panties dampen, lust gripping me so strongly I can't shake it. I’ve wondered what he would taste like, what his lips would feel like. Reality is better than anything I came up with in my head. I can't get enough. His tongue pushes into my mouth, tasting and exploring, warm and hot. He runs it over my bottom lip before biting it then soothing it again with his tongue. The sensations are electric and shocking but I want more. I shift unconsciously in my seat, angling my body towards his. His arm slips under my rear and he slides me onto his lap and he continues to kiss me breathlessly. His hand slips along the silk of my dress up my side and his thumb brushes the underside of my breast.
With his mouth on mine I can't form a thought and my blood pressure rockets. His erection throbs under my rear, the flimsy material of my dress hiding nothing. I wiggle, adjusting myself on his lap until I align his hardness between my thighs. I rub myself shamelessly against his lap as he feverishly kisses me. My chest heaves against his and I have no idea if the dancers are still performing or not. Right now there is nothing else in the world outside of Dom and me. The sensation of the silk on my skin, his hands in my hair, and his lips devouring me have me lost in my own neediness. A low, raw groan rips from him and his hands stop my hips from rolling as our kiss becomes tender and lazy. My hips move on their own accord but he stills them, holding me firmly in place on his lap and pulls his mouth from mine. I whine at the loss of him and pout. He smiles broadly and looks me over.
“Let’s move out to the deck,” he says softly. I remove myself from his lap and straighten my gown before taking his extended hand and letting him lead me out into the warm salty summer air. The deck is extravagant; instead of bench seating there are large pillows strewn about, creating an Indian feel. He kneels down on one knee, still holding my hand, and rests his head on my belly as I stand before him. He kisses just below my bellybutton. My stomach clenches as heat flares deep in the pit of my belly. “You really are stunning,” he murmurs into the fabric of my dress. The ocean glistens in the moonlight and waves lap against the side of the yacht as it cuts through the water. It’s gorgeous and peaceful.
“Dom,” I whisper while toying with his hair. He lifts his head from my stomach and looks up at me. I unwrap his hands from my waist and sink into the cushion next to him. We lie still, shoulder to shoulder, staring up at the stars.
“You scare me,” I whisper and bite my lip. The cushion moves and I know he’s looking at me. I roll my head to the side, meeting his stormy black eyes. He looks conflicted and shocked.
“I don't want to scare you, Clara,” he admits. I sigh, knowing he means it.
“When you touch me...it dominates me. I feel an insatiable need to feel you. It’s a reckless and demanding feeling. Like I can't control myself. Like I want you to devour me.” My voice is soft but steady. “I’ve never felt so out of control.”
He holds my gaze and smiles. He’s so handsome and he looks relaxed and approachable right now. Grabbing my hand, he laces his fingers through mine and squeezes. Surprisingly it feels completely natural.
“Now you know how I feel, only I didn't have to touch you to feel it. I was struck dumb just seeing you that night at my club.” He pauses and sucks in a deep breath. “When I touched you, heard your voice, I was consumed by you. I’ve not acted myself this last month. I’ve been desperate and have acted like a fool,” he finishes. Suddenly I know I have to end this. There are too many variables that I can't control with him and I don’t do out of control. Well, not normally.
“Dom, I can’t be seen in public with you. I can’t live in your world but I can’t ignore what my body’s screaming. I don’t know how to give this a chance,” I tell him honestly.
“What’s so wrong with my world? Why can’t I flaunt you and pamper you? I’ve worked hard to live this life--what’s wrong with sharing it with someone?” he asks and squeezes my hand again.
“Nothing, nothing's wrong with sharing it--you should. I just can’t. I’m sorry. I don't want to be flaunted. I don't mind pampering though,” I giggle. Gross. I seriously just giggled. Releasing my hand he rolls to his side and brushes the pad of his thumb over my cheek and lips. “Tell me why.”
“Answer this first. Do you know Charlie Hollingsworth?”
“From California, the senator?” he asks and my heart sinks.
“Yes,” I answer quietly.
“Of course. We mingle at the same parties occasionally. I know his son.” He seems proud but he doesn't know it’s just torn us apart.
“I see. I can’t date you publicly,” I say and look away from him. “I think maybe I’d like to head home now if you don’t mind,” I say blandly.
“I don't understand, Clara. What does Charlie have to do with anything? You have to tell me,” he pleads quietly. Turning back to him I stroke his face and give him a small smile.
“I was a kept woman once, Dom. I’ll never go back to that. If you want to casually date, and by that I mean grab a slice or see a movie in Blacksburg, I’m willing to do that, but no yachts, no planes, no galas or events. And absolutely no mentioning my name. I don't want the tabloids photographing me or writing about me,” I instruct. He frowns at the offer and I know we’re done. I push off the cushion and stand before tugging him up too. Wrapping my arms around him I hug him tight and soak in his smell and the feel of him before letting him go. “This was a really nice night. Thank you,” I say and weakly smile.
Surprisingly, he doesn't question me further or push in any way. The boat docks thirty minutes later as we finish our conversation about how he met Miller and how funny the guy is. The ride to the airstrip and the flight back are quiet but he finds ways to touch me tenderly every few minutes. It’s torturous, because I want it but shouldn't. Our silence isn't strained, it’s comfortable and during the drive to my house I find myself snuggling into his side wishing he was just your normal guy-next-door.
“Clara,” he calls quietly after walking me to the door. “Will you finish my tattoo?”
“Sure. We probably need three more two-hour sessions,” I tell him and stand awkwardly in front of him waiting. Finally I can’t stand the tension between us. Pushing up on my toes I grab his neck and pull his face to mine. “Please kiss me goodnight, Mr. Napoli,” I breathe. He doesn't hesitate, fulfilling my request. Our lips dance together gently but intensely. It’s a farewell kiss. A goodbye kiss. A kiss that screams this is the end of something: sad, salty, and sweet. Our lips linger together as our breath mingles, neither one of us wanting to be the first to let go. Finally I let go of his neck and the arms a
t my waist drop and hang limply at his sides.
“I’ll have my assistant call and make an appointment,” he mumbles.
“All right.”
“Goodnight, Clara.”
“Bye, Dom.” I turn to open the door but stop. “Do you want the Princeton gear and dress back?” I call over my shoulder.
“Nah, I’d never wear it.” He laughs. “Looks better on you...the dress too.” He winks before folding into the backseat of the car. I wave, unsure if he’s looking or not, before heading into the house. It’s dark and silent. Taped to the fridge is a note from Sawyer. He’s not home. I toe off my boots and push the shoulder straps of the dress down, letting the gown slip off me, landing in a red puddle at my feet, and in nothing but my undies I walk upstairs and crawl into bed. What a clusterfuck.
I stare at the ceiling and curse the day I met Daniel Hollingsworth. Ten months after our engagement I’d been sick for a week and felt miserable. I confided to Amanda how awful my life was. She spent the day with me and, witnessing my vomit attacks, asked if maybe I was pregnant. The idea had completely thrown me. I was only twenty-three and Daniel and I weren't married. This would be bad news. She bought a test, I took it and, turns out, I was having a baby. Like a brick in the face I realized I couldn't bear to bring a child into his world...so I bailed. I left him a note telling him I was staying with Marg and to give me space. I had nothing and felt desperate. I’d pawned the engagement ring, netting me five thousand dollars--not even close to its value--and hid at Marg’s for days.
His response was to show up in the middle of the night and drag me back to our house, all while lecturing me on what’s appropriate and what’s not. I would not leave him. It’s not acceptable for someone like me to leave someone like him. He would happily support me but we didn't have to have a relationship outside the public eye. I was young and scared shitless.
Three days later I was informed that we were having brunch with his parents at the country club and that it was time for me to perform appropriately. He led me to brunch reminding me to play nice in front of his parents and friends. When he realized I wasn't wearing the engagement ring he lost it and become slightly physical with me. When he found out I’d pawned the ring, well...it didn't end well. I showed up bruised and broken on Amanda’s doorstep, sobbing.
I blow out a breath and close my eyes, willing the memory of Daniel and that day away, before falling asleep.
“Darling, where’s your engagement ring? You can’t show up at the club without it. What would people say?” He squeezed my elbow harshly as we descended the marble staircase to the foyer. Panic seized me as I tried to formulate an appropriate response.
“I... I don't have it,” I explained.
“What do you mean you don't have it, Jade?” he roars. “Where the fuck is the ring?”
He bellows at me and I cower. “I hocked it, Daniel. IT’S GONE,” I shout back. His fingers dig into my shoulders--no doubt leaving bruises--before he starts violently shaking me. “You HOCKED IT? YOU HOCKED THE FAMILY RING?” he screams, shaking me more. I snap my eyes closed and pretend I’m anywhere else. His hands release my shoulders abruptly and as my eyes snap open I feel weightless and lose my balance. Stumbling to find my footing I miss the next step and tumble. His hate-filled eyes watch every hit to the cold hard stairs that my body takes. My hands protect my head but I’m helpless to do anything more before I crumple at the bottom in a pile of skin and bones. Pain surges through me. The baby. Fuck. The baby.
I scream myself awake, out of breath. Sweat drips down my back as I suck in ragged breaths to steady myself. Eight years later and I still can't escape him.
Butterfly Diamonds
After a weekend of me throwing myself into my work, Allie came home happy and excited for music camp in a few weeks. Her cheerfulness and enthusiasm were hard to ignore and Sawyer, Allie, and I fell effortlessly back into our normal routine. Sawyer never asked about my date with Dom but seemed content that he'd disappeared. I didn't offer up any more information. June slipped into July and yesterday Sawyer dropped Allie at music camp for another week away. I was really looking forward to her regular day camp when she returned. This being away crap wasn't for me. I like my little girl home every night. She requested Sawyer drop her off because I'd made too much of a scene the last time. I protested violently to her idea but in the end they teamed up against me and won.
“Did she say she loved me?” I whine to Sawyer the moment he steps foot in the shop. He chuckles and blatantly lies to me. “Of course she did, love.”
I pout because I know he’s full of shit. He looks over the book before sauntering back to me and hugging me.
“I don’t like overnight camp,” I complain, making him laugh again.
“Well maybe we should go out, take your mind off of it,” he suggests.
“I guess,” I huff. I’m really being unreasonable and I know it.
“We could see a movie?” he tries again.
“Mmm... yeah. Okay,” I give in, earning me a heart-warming smile from my favorite man. Sawyer prepares for his first appointment while I clean up my station. I’m light on appointments today and plan on getting some errands done. My back pocket vibrates. I fumble with the phone trying to remove it from my pocket and finally manhandle it into submission to check it.
Dom: How’s my favorite lady?
I smile at the screen. Dom’s been sending random texts here and there since he left. They’re usually short, always sweet, and I never know when they’ll come. The man doesn't give up easily and he sure knows how to keep my interest sparked, I’ll give him that.
Decent. Where are you?
Dom: Miami. It’s hot.
Huh, who wudda thought?
Dom: Har har smart ass
Business or pleasure
Dom: business my dear, always business.
All work and no play...
Dom: Makes Dom a dull boy.
See you soon handsome
Dom: Not soon enough.
His appointment is in five days and I find myself looking forward to it. I think about him often and lately I started dreaming about him...really good dreams, too. The secret texts we share always put me in a good mood and I feel I’ve gotten to know him better through them. He’s not Dominic Napoli the ruthless mogul, he’s my Dom, funny and thoughtful. Tucking my phone back in my pocket, I resume cleaning before heading out.
“Anything you need at the grocery store?” I ask Sawyer on my way out.
“Eh...deodorant and condoms,” he calls.
“Condoms, huh? You anticipating getting laid?” I tease. Sawyer and I don't use condoms; I have an IUD and we’ve been together forever and know each other's history, not to mention we both get tested yearly. He must have a new love interest because I haven't seen Kylie around for weeks.
“Shut it. You asked. I answered,” he clips and resumes tattooing his client. She giggles loudly at something he says and I wonder if that’s his next lay. Gross, I hate tattoo tramps. They just think he’s a badass, they have no love for the real Sawyer. I shake my head at them, leave, and hop in my car.
By the time I get home and load my arms with the twenty or so grocery bags--because like an idiot I refuse to make more than one trip to bring them in--it’s nearing four. I struggle, teetering on my heels, to get everything to the door, where there’s a box with a note waiting for me. I let the bags from one arm slide off onto the porch, unlock the door and carry the groceries into the kitchen before retrieving the box. I didn’t order anything but it’s addressed to me. I grab a knife to cut the tape and open it. A card rests on top of a smaller box that reads, “Don’t hate me. I saw it and knew it was yours.” I put the card on the counter and open the white box. A stunning diamond-encrusted three-inch Swallowtail butterfly attached to a long chain rests in it, and attached to the wing of it is a smaller version. I’m speechless. It’s clearly handcrafted, platinum, and I’m guessing those are real diamonds. It’s a glittery, scaled-down version o
f my tattoo. Lifting it, I pull the long chain over my head. The pendant rests just between the swell of my breasts. I dig through my purse for my phone and call Dom.
“Napoli,” he says shortly.
“Dom, I’m speechless,” I coo into the phone.
“Clara?”
“Caller ID says yes,” I laugh.
“I didn't look. Sorry. Let’s try this again. Clara! So glad to hear your voice,” he chuckles before murmuring something to someone else.
“I’m good. Did I interrupt something?” I ask, wondering if I should have just texted.
“No of course not. I have time for you,” he says with conviction.
“I just wanted to say thank you. The necklace arrived today. It’s amazing. I love it,” I gush before I can think better of it. He lets out a breath that sounds like relief.
“So you don't hate me?” he asks.
“Hate you?” I question.
“For spending my gross money on you,” he chuckles lightly.
“No, you idiot. I love it. Seriously,” I chastise teasingly.
“Good. It’s one of a kind and when I saw it I knew it was made for you,” he says softly and my heart melts just a little.
“Well thank you. You shouldn't have, but thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I do have to get back to work though.” He sounds distracted.
“Well quit lollygaggin’ and hustle,” I joke.
“Always a ham, my dear,” he says before hanging up. I listen to the dead air for a moment making sure he’s really disconnected before putting my phone down and staring at the sparkling pendant.
“Everything okay?” Sawyer's voice snaps me out of my daze.
“Huh? Yeah. Why?” I say, turning to face him.
“You were just standing there with your head down,” he jests.
“Oh. I, ah. Dom sent me a gift.” I point to my chest. “I was staring at it.”
