The Dominator

by Prince, DD

  The way he said it made sense. What do YOU need? Because he got what HE needed last night. At least he was trying to reciprocate. I guess.

  I thought about it for a minute while he undid his pants and took them off and laid them on the chair beside the bed with his tux jacket. He straightened the waistband of his black boxer briefs.

  “I’d like to be alone,” I said softly and met his eyes and I could see by the shift, the shock on his face, that it probably felt like a slap in the face to him.

  He looked down at the floor for a moment, then skimmed his bottom lip with his teeth for a second, then I was sure for a second he was going to turn on his heel and give me what I wanted but instead he shook his head, “No. Not that. I won’t ever sleep somewhere away from you if I can be beside you. I don’t care if I’m mad at you, if you’re mad at me, we sleep beside one another. What can I do to make this better? I know I fucked up last night, I fucked up huge. Tell me how to fix it. Please, baby.” He took a step toward me. I took a step back. He stopped.

  I closed my eyes and sighed and then let the dress fall to the floor and then sat on the bed and pulled his white dress shirt over my head, undid my bra under the shirt and pulled it out one of the armholes and tossed it on the chair with the rest of his clothes, and then I got under the blankets.

  He’d stood there quietly watching me while I did all that. Then he got in beside me and pulled me close, “Baby?”

  “What if you can’t fix it?” my voice was barely a whisper.

  “Please don’t say that. Don’t fucking say that,” his voice was strangled-sounding. “I want to make love to you. I need to make you feel good. Tell me what I can do to make you whimper for me and put your arms around me because you want to, not because I’ve told you to. Let me show you how much I love you.”

  Goosebumps rose on my skin. But I didn’t want to feel good. I didn’t want to think. I didn’t know if there was anything he could do to fix things. How could there be? I wanted to sleep and forget everything I’d seen tonight. Forget everything that had happened last night. Sleep it away, all of it.

  His palm swept up from my shoulder to my face until his fingers weaved into my hair near my ear. “Tia, baby?”

  I reached up and fingered his dangling necklace without touching him. He kissed the tip of my nose.

  We needed to talk things out and figure this out if we were going to have a future that wasn’t just me pretending to be okay. But I wasn’t ready to talk, I was still processing. And I didn’t know if talking would do anything at all, anyway. He was in control. He made the rules. I was just a participant. Willing or not. I didn’t know if I could be okay with it. With any of it. But he was waiting for an answer.

  “Just…” my voice caught.

  His eyes widened fractionally as he urged me, with his expression, to continue.

  “Vanilla,” I whispered, feeling totally and utterly defeated.

  He kissed me slow and sweet, exploring my mouth with his tongue and letting his hands drift up and down my body, sending shivers up my spine. He started to undo the tuxedo shirt I was wearing and started to tongue a nipple and then the other one.

  “Touch me, babe. Please,” he whispered against my skin. I put my hands on his back and rubbed up and down. His back was so strong. I put my hands on his shoulders. They were big and muscular. He had a lot of muscle. Enough muscle to crush me without even really trying.

  My mind drifted to that couple on the stage, about how she, the tiny little woman, wielded power to control a man who could crush her even more easily than Tommy could crush me. In a physical sense, anyway. Tommy could crush me, had crushed me, in other ways just through words and actions. But the tiny blonde had looked at that big muscled man so lovingly because he gave her what she needed. She controlled him but he controlled her too, through giving her what she needed. And that big strong guy seemed like he wanted to be dominated by her, too; you could see it in his eyes. His face had gone to a state of bliss when she whipped him. It was a quid pro quo thing for them.

  Tommy needed this from me, my submission to him. Sometimes he needed it rough and sometimes he gave it to me sweet. I knew I’d wanted rough that day at the farm. I knew the release it gave me that day he tied me to the headboard and took my control away so I wouldn’t have to fight anymore. I didn’t know if I could ever crave that again. And if I did crave it, did that mean I had gone over to the dark side, that I was irrevocably broken?

  His mouth was on my breast, his tongue toying with my nipple. My hands continued to roam up and down his arms, his back. I thought back to us at the farm and how sweet he was after my playing that hide and seek game with him, because I was giving him what he needed. He’d seemed so happy and carefree that night. And I remembered how exciting it was to run and be caught and how insane it’d driven me when he talked dirty to me during the game. I also thought about when I wanted it to be rough and he wouldn’t be rough with me. He was a control freak. Plain and simple.

  Right now he was trying to be sweet but we both knew my heart wasn’t in it. My hands rose to his hair as he continued to kiss and tongue my breasts and I felt the chain around his neck touch my skin. I sucked my lower lip in and had a thought. I needed to change the tone of this situation; I couldn’t handle this sweet business, right now. The only way I could get through this right now is if it were just a game. A game where I could get release, release from the prison I felt like my brain was in. Would it help?

  I quickly bucked till he was off me enough for me to get out of the bed. He looked at me, first confused, and then his expression started to drop. I backed away from him slowly and then gave him a smile and waved my finger and tsk tsk’d at him.

  “Tia?” He tilted his head at me.

  “The only way you get to fuck me tonight, Tommy Ferrano, is if you can catch me.” Shock flashed on his face. I gave him a phony-looking big dazzling smile and then I bolted into the closest bathroom, the Hers bathroom, and locked the door.

  My heart was racing. I could do this. I could play a game tonight. Granted, it wasn’t very creative but it seemed to distract me from the emotions whirling around in my brain, if only temporarily. If I played a game, maybe the tone would stay where I could handle it. I got moist down below with anticipation. I pushed away my “What the fuck?” thoughts.

  A few seconds later I heard the doorknob jiggle and then it went silent. I stood there, heart racing, almost panting with anticipation. I waited. Then I heard a tinny scratchy sound. Was he picking the lock? I braced myself.

  Approximately 4.5 seconds later the door swung open and he was standing there with this intense look on his face. His eyes lit with something dangerous. I’m sure I was standing there, wild-eyed, too. I had his white tuxedo shirt on, with just the bottom few buttons done up and my hair must’ve looked like it’d been in a windstorm.

  He was naked and his erection should’ve been allocated its own zip code. He leaned on the door frame and folded his arms, “You’re not very good at this game, are you? Where do you think you’re gonna go from here?”

  I summoned my inner vixen and shrugged at him, “Maybe I wanted to be easy to catch.”

  “Didn’t I tell you not to try to lock me out?” he was trying to be serious but failing. He gave me a smirk. I smirked back. Then he tried to look serious. So I tried to look serious. I caught my bottom lip between my teeth and looked at him for a second, then shrugged and said, “Do you think you need to maybe teach me a lesson for that?”

  He grinned at me, “Damn straight. But you made it too easy.”

  I shrugged, “Maybe I’ve got a surprise attack planned.”

  His eyes went cold, “A what?”

  Whoa, a bucket of ice cold water might as well have been dumped on my libido and my smugness right then and there. Not the right answer given the state of our relationship the past few days. I shook my head frantically, needing desperately to backpedal “I didn’t mean anything violent… I meant…”

  He clo
sed the distance between us and was right up against me, making me gasp in surprise. His lips crashed into mine and then he said against them, “Drop the fucking act.”

  My heart was thudding wildly.

  “Just drop it,” he whispered. He had my bottom lip between his teeth and he let out an Mmm sound that reverberated through my whole body.

  I couldn’t be a player, I was going to lose. He was totally in control here right now. I sucked at this.

  “Who do you belong to, Athena?” his mouth was by my ear.

  Fuck. Shit. My blood ran cold.

  He moved back an inch or two and looked down at me. I looked up into his eyes and he looked so sexy, red fucking hot with lust.

  “Who?” he demanded.

  It felt like all the air left my lungs and then like something inside of me snapped, like an elastic band pulled too far, ”You,” I said and a huge weight vanished off my shoulders. Vanished.

  Then it was like a bomb went off in that bathroom. He hiked me up onto the vanity and violently tore my underwear down my hips and off of me, and then he plunged his cock deep into me, one hand on my lower back and the other braced against the mirror. Bottles and hair tools and cosmetics tumbled onto the floor and something splashed into the toilet. Something glass smashed. He didn’t stop. He didn’t take his eyes off mine. He was, clearly, completely thrilled with that declaration.

  I wrapped my legs around him and dug my nails into his back and he let out this primal sound, almost like a growl, and let go of the mirror and had a fistful of my hair in his hand. I squealed in surprise and pain, and then desire surged through me.

  He stopped and looked at me for a beat, breathless, then moved a few times in and out of me. I bit hard on my bottom lip, my chest rising and falling rapidly. He lifted me and then we tumbled to the floor in the midst of curling and flat irons, hair brushes, a broken glass bottle of facial cleanser, broken plastic blush case with chunks of blush powder all over the place, that he shoved aside, and then my legs were up and over his shoulders and as I pulled the prickly round hair brush out from under my lower back and tossed it out of the way he started to pound the fuck out of me on that bathroom floor. “Don’t stop,” I pleaded and that must’ve supremely pleased him as he didn’t. He went harder, he went faster. He pounded and pounded and I received every single connection of our bodies with a grateful grunt and nails that dug into his backside.

  Suddenly I was up and he was carrying me back toward the bed but we didn’t make it. I was against the wall, impaled on him, my fingers in his hair. We were sweaty and grunting like wild animals and I knew I’d have crazy sex bruises and make up smears likely all over my body tomorrow. So would he.

  “Love you so fucking much,” He grunted.

  I was drunk on him; he was my oxygen. He fucked me slow but hard against the wall and then put me on my back on the bed and kept going, but then fast and with so much force that there were veins showing on his neck and his forehead. Then he pulled out and got me on all fours on the bed and put one hand around my throat and the fingers from the other got me by the clit and he as he drove into me he twisted his fingers around below until I was trying to crawl away to get away from the intensity of it, screaming out, and then I was hanging off the bed, my butt in the air, my nails clawing at the rug, him holding my hip with one hand, circling my clit with his other, and fucking me so hard. I came hard, whimpering, “I love you, too.” as I cried out into the bed’s dust ruffle.

  I told him I loved him? What the fuck?

  I can’t believe I said that to him. I’d never said that to Nick, not to the few guys I’d dated before, either. Did I love him? I loved elements of him but could I love all of him? Was my emotional outburst really about being relieved that my experiment had seemed to bring about the result I’d hoped for, sort of, that even though it kind of backfired a little, that I’d pulled a reaction out of him that told me that maybe I could get and keep this under control? Me, in control, controlling the control freak by knowing how to handle him, what to give him. Or was I so relieved that I could do this because I did love him, I loved the possibilities of being in love, the moments of sweet, the fierce protection he’d showed me. I didn’t know. I just didn’t fucking know.

  He grunted my name and came inside of me and then we were both breathless. He pulled me back up onto the bed. Me on my belly, him laying on my back and then after a minute of kissing me all over my shoulders and the back of my neck, he rolled and took me with him so my back was against his front and kissed me on the earlobe, “I love you, baby girl. You have no fucking clue how much. You mean everything to me. Everything.” I glanced back at him and his eyes were closed but there was this look of bliss on his face. Pure bliss. The look on his face crushed me, sent emotion through me that I’d never felt. I squirmed in tight against him, letting him comfort me and hold me. I closed my eyes and heard that chorus in my mind.

  I… don’t wanna fall in love… with you.

  But I was pretty sure it was too late. He had me. Fucked up as it was, I’d fallen. And it might very well be the demise of me.

  Tommy

  I woke up to see Tia sitting in a chair staring out the window, wrapped in the thick hotel robe, her knees up against her chest and her hands around a steaming mug. She was blowing into the cup but staring out the window, looking deep in thought.

  I watched her for a long time before she glanced in my direction. When she did, there was a flash of something, was it regret, was it fear? It punched me right in the gut but then it disappeared and she got a shy little smile on her face. Was she putting on a mask for me or was she just torn up inside with conflicting emotions just like me?

  I smiled and opened my arms wide for her. She took a sip, put the cup down on the table beside her, and then climbed up onto the bottom of the bed and crawled from the end of the bed toward me slowly, the sexy little smile growing bigger the closer she got. I’d opened my arms wanting to hold her close and snuggle her tight but okay, I could deal with this, too…

  She climbed up my body and pulled the blankets down past my hips with a sultry look on her face and then took my cock in her hand and made sure it was good and awake, then straddled me and pushed it inside of herself. She took the robe off and threw it back. She was still wearing my shirt from last night and only the bottom button was done up. I groaned and undid it and then pushed it off her shoulders. She closed her eyes and her lips parted as she took me deeper and then when she got me in balls deep, she took my wrists and pinned them above my head while rotating her hips with me inside of her. I let out a little chuckle and she tightened her grip on my wrists and gave me this little warning look but then wrinkled her nose at me, then continued and closed her eyes and got lost in sensation. Her gorgeous tits were over my face, I tongued a nipple. Seeing her like this was a beautiful thing to watch. A few moments later her breathing got shallow, I’d gotten an arm free, and was toying with her clit while she continued to take my cock. She tightened around me and then she started to tremble and shuddered her climax until she collapsed onto me, her mouth against my earlobe, her warm minty mingled with fresh coffee breath warming my face. I turned over, putting her onto her back and took myself home with slow and deep movements, letting the inside of her stroke me until I fell apart.

  Right as I was groaning out an ‘Oh, baby,” my phone started to ring. I finished and then I flopped onto my back beside her and ignored it and just caught my breath.

  Fuck, that had been beautiful. She curled into me and put her hand and cheek on my chest.

  I got lost in thought for a bit, about last night, the best sex I’d had in my life, about the last few days, and about this morning, her being so bold and taking what she wanted from me like that. It was fucking sexy that she’d fucked me. I loved it.

  I didn’t know whether she was being a chameleon and just trying to blend into her reality or if she’d started out playacting but was now morphing for me into who she needed to be for me, or what all this was but
whatever it was, it felt real. Her words last night undid me. She kept undoing me. I didn’t know if we were both just evolving into who we wanted to be for one another. Maybe that was the closest way to describe it. Both of us struggling through this, waiting to see where our emotions would take us, trying to figure out how to be who we were and what the other needed at the same time.

  It wasn’t like me to be all fucking philosophical but I just knew that I loved her, that I wanted her, and that when she said she loved me after everything she’d been through because of me, it was like those 3 words ripped a layer of darkness that’d been around my heart and soul off like a Band-Aid. How many layers were left was something that, I supposed, remained to be seen.

  Another ding of the phone made me realize I had to get out of bed and get on with the reason I was here. I grabbed the phone and checked my messages. We were heading back home this afternoon. I needed to talk to Pop and then go see Goldberg and see what his decision was. I didn’t know how he’d take the news that the Ferranos, as well as John Lewis, would not get involved in his project if Leo Denarda was even remotely a part of it.

  We’d talked just briefly before I got in the cab last night and the three of us were meeting for lunch at John’s hotel room. But if he opted to work with us and turfed Denarda out, I had a pretty good idea how Denarda would take it and it’d probably mean another step up in security.

  The smarmy goof had been leering at Tia last night instead of his skanky date and we’d already had a showdown of sorts where he puffed up his chest when I’d given him a look. If it weren’t for the fact that his sick uncle was an important man down here, he’d not even be at these meetings. Goldberg fucked up by even involving that crew. The guy would’ve been way better off just coming to us. But it was a timing issue, too. When the uncle croaked there’d be a power play in Vegas and it wouldn’t take long for Denarda to be out. Problem was that the uncle had been on his death bed for almost a year, not getting better but not kicking the bucket, either.