His Domination: The Absolute Trilogy: An Alpha Billionaire Romance

by Cynthia Dane

  His thrusts became more powerful the more he overtook her. His shadow dominated Monica’s world, her nose buried in his scent and her legs locked around his hips. Henry fit so easily into her now. The more they made love, the easier it became for Monica to take him into her body and not have to think about the consequences of giving her heart to a man like him.

  “Henry,” she whimpered, her nails scratching a trail down his shoulder blades. “I’m…”

  Her words were cut off by a moan echoing in the enclave between their bodies. Henry grunted against her – his cock held firm inside her, and nothing, not even the end of the world, could have stopped him from pinning her to his bed and filling her with his seed for the final time that night.

  For once he was louder than her. Monica bit back her cries and listened to him release his urges into her, at first eager, and then so determined that the bed creaked and their wet skin created a familiar sound that lulled Monica right into another orgasm.

  “Yes!” she cried, her fingers clawing at his back and her next shout trapped in her throat. Long, steady strokes slammed into her as Henry lost his mind and his ability to withhold orgasm. Monica anticipated and welcomed the warmth filling her body until Henry had to stop and slowly pull from her.

  They collapsed into each other’s arms, their harried breaths only interrupted by a kiss here and a sigh there. As Henry dozed against her neck, his legs and arms entwined with hers, Monica had to admit that she never felt safer. It had nothing to do with the mansion, or the money, or the privacy in such a large home. It had everything to do with the way Henry held her, as if she were the most precious being in the universe. I’m not a princess. I’m a queen. Queen of the wolves, and this was the mate helping her protect her life.

  Chapter 11

  The Princess And The Dragon

  “A girl could get used to living like this.” Monica rolled over in bed, extending her arm so she touched Henry’s wrist.

  He got up from where he sat, his clothes mostly on but his tie still dangling around his neck. “Used to living like what?” Henry stood up straight, folding his tie this way, that, and then looping it downward. Naked or dressed like that, I’ll eat him alive. His navy blue trousers made Monica want to fling back the bed covers and remind him that she was naked.

  And sore, but the sweet way Henry took care of her after their long night was almost as good as the sex itself. His tender touches, his kisses to her aching flesh, and the way he massaged her tiny bruises took her to a place of peace that she had yet to experience in such a long time.

  “Used to living like a queen.”

  “Not a princess?”

  “I believe you were calling me a queen of wolves before a princess. Which is it?”

  He bent down and kissed her cheek. Aftershave already on, he smelled like the million dollars he carried in his pocket at any moment. I don’t really care about the money, but I care about the money. Money was security. Money meant a certain lifestyle could be maintained. Money meant Henry could do what he did while Monica lay naked in his bed all morning.

  “Depends on the day. You’re either about to bite someone or beg to be rescued. I follow the patterns.”

  Monica sighed. “Don’t leave me.”

  “I’ll be back by lunch. Until then, there’s biscuits and tea in the other room. If you get hungry or need anything else, you’re free to call the butler. He’ll take care of you.”

  “Not as good as you do.”

  Henry scoffed and adjusted his cuffs. “Thank God. I’d have to fire him then.” His wink sent ripples of heat through Monica’s body. “He shouldn’t be going through my stuff like that.”

  Monica sat up, keeping the comforter around her body – not that she was shy about showing Henry what he had seen many times by now. “Am I your stuff?”

  “No. I was thinking of the crops and whips and whatever the hell else I’ve got hiding around here.”

  He shrugged into his jacket and gave Monica one more kiss. “I’ve got video calls to make in my office a few doors down. When I get done, we’ll go have lunch in the back gardens. You’ll like them.”

  Biting her lip, Monica rolled onto her stomach and huddled beneath the comforter. “Or I could stay right here.”

  “Whatever you want, lovely.”

  Henry patted her through the comforter before departing his quarters. The door closed gently behind him and locked – on the outside. Monica could easily unlock it. They weren’t playing any games today. Not yet, anyway.

  Monica remained in bed for another fifteen minutes, enjoying the comfort and the sweet sunshine coming through the bedroom window. Even though Henry’s bed probably wasn’t any better than hers in the Château, it somehow seemed better. Probably because it was his. And smelled like him.

  Eventually she had to get up, especially when she remembered that there was tea waiting in the other room. Monica pushed herself out of bed and searched for her red silk robe in her overnight bag. Once it was on she fluffed out her hair – now devoid of her curls – and went looking for the goodies.

  The tea was Earl Grey, and the biscuits were, well, English. Monica poured herself a cup and took a biscuit to the nearest couch. She debated turning on the TV, but instead picked up her cell phone and read a message from Judith saying that everything went smoothly the prior night without her.

  She called the first person to come to mind.

  “If you’re calling me at ten on a Saturday morning, then something must be up.” Ethan sounded like he was halfway through his first cup of coffee. “So, what’s up?”

  Monica brushed biscuit crumbs off her lap. “The best day of my life.”

  “Congratulations. Dare I ask why?”

  “Because…” Monica blushed, even though nobody was there to see her embarrassment. “I think I’m in love.”

  The silence on the other end made her wonder if Ethan was about to chastise her. “With that Warren fellow?”

  “Henry Warren, yes.”

  “I see.”

  “Ethan.”

  “I’m happy for you.”

  “You sure you aren’t jealous?”

  “Why would I be jealous? Besides, I’d be a hypocrite if I told you not to go around falling in love all willy-nilly.”

  “Indeed. Yet I feel like there’s a but coming on.”

  “No buts. Just that… I did some digging on your boyfriend.”

  “Of course you did.”

  Whatever Ethan was eating, it probably wasn’t as good as these English biscuits. “Don’t know what you want me to say. He is beyond boring. No wonder I couldn’t remember him. Man sequesters himself in offices and signs off on buyouts and sells. Bunch of money simmering in the stock market and property investments.”

  “You sound disappointed.”

  “You know me, Monica. I like people who are go-getters and start innovative businesses. Seems your Mr. Warren saves all his innovations for the bedroom, not the boardroom.”

  “I’m not complaining.”

  “Again, I’m happy for you.” The line crackled. Where was he going? “His whole family is boring, minus some events his father was involved in a long time ago. Oh, and I have it on good authority that Ms. Evangeline Warren has left a string of broken hearts and thighs in her wake. I suggest you don’t go falling for her Sapphic charms.”

  “If your gay receptionist can’t fall for them, then I think I’m safe.” Eva wasn’t her type anyway.

  “Regardless, I am happy for you. You deserve all the happiness and spankings in the world, my dear.”

  “Don’t get me riled up again. Don’t think my current boyfriend would appreciate my ex doing that.”

  “If he has a problem with me, he can come find me in the boardroom.”

  “Ah, the pissing contests of the elite.”

  “Better than drawing blood.”

  Monica almost told him about the knife from the night before, but thought be
tter of it. Instead she said, “Like how you and Jackson used to fight about nothing all the time?”

  “Don’t go bringing him up. You need to stop thinking about him.”

  She frowned for the first time in many hours. “It’s not that easy. Even with Henry, I am always thinking about him.”

  “You’ll find that it goes away after a while.”

  “How would you know?”

  Ethan sighed. “Because it has to be true.”

  They hung up a minute later, Monica promising to do her best to stop thinking of Jackson. Besides, she was in Henry’s manor. Nothing could touch her here.

  She rose from the couch and took her tea to the window overlooking the front courtyard of the mansion. Across the way was the West Wing, where Eva lived – and currently stood on a balcony looking at the same courtyard as Monica.

  Their eyes never met. Whatever Eva was looking at was more interesting than looking into the windows of her brother’s quarters.

  Monica sipped her tea as Eva disappeared into the house.

  And as a nondescript car pulled in from the driveway.

  The driver remained inside until Eva showed up in the grand entrance. She stood, perched like a disapproving mother watching her teen’s walk of shame after a late night of partying. Between the hair, the body-hugging suit, and the stark makeup on her face, she even intimidated Monica.

  Nobody intimidated Monica as much as the man stepping out of the parked car.

  She dropped her empty teacup onto the carpet.

  Her heart stopped in her chest.

  Jackson Lyle closed the door, his hat slicing through the air as he approached the front steps to Warren Manor. Eva remained in place, nose turned up in the air.

  Monica couldn’t hear what they said in greeting to one another. She didn’t want to know.

  She held herself to the edge of the window, wishing to be seeing things. But Monica knew every angle of Jackson Lyle. She knew the way he stood, the way he carried himself when he thought he impressed somebody. That was him. Jackson, in his pastel suit and hands in his back pocket.

  Eva said something and turned back into the house. Jackson took one step forward before glancing up toward the East Wing.

  Monica ducked behind a curtain, but she was too late.

  He saw her. The smile spreading across his face like a plague confirmed it.

  When he entered the house, Monica did the first thing she thought of. Namely making sure the doors were locked and that nobody would come for her, least of all someone like Jackson.

  There was no time to contemplate why he was there. Why there. Why the Warrens.

  Did Henry know about this?

  Monica collapsed onto the floor and debated between trust and flight.

  Did she trust Henry? Should she run for her life? For her sanity?

  All she could do was cry and wish she never got out of that bed.

  Healed

  Notice Of Payment Due

  To Whom It May Concern,

  This is a reminder that payment of $200,000, which includes the agreed upon interest rate of 10.78%, is due on the 10th of this month. Failure to make the payment by the end of business day will accrue a late fee of $10,000 per day late.

  We thank you for your continued cooperation and wish you well.

  Sincerely,

  The Offices of Bernard, Grant, and Sullivan

  Representing the estate and holdings of Mr. Jackson Lyle

  Chapter 1

  Goodnight, Innocence

  “Today we toast to the engagement of this young and happy couple.” Monica raised a glass of champagne in the Receiving Room of the Château, the other guests at the intimate party raising theirs as well. Polite cheers and good wishes echoed in the room, with everyone’s attentions turning to Sylvia and her patron – now fiancé – Mr. Carlisle.

  Two months ago Sylvia told her employer that Mr. Carlisle had asked her to marry him. With it came the promise that she wouldn’t be quitting work anytime soon. Until three weeks ago when Monica was informed that Sylvia would, in fact, be moving in with her new fiancé soon. Like tomorrow soon.

  Now I’m down one girl with no time to replace her. Monica would not tell someone as rich and influential as Mr. Carlisle that he could not have his girl, especially when said girl worked as a switch in the BDSM pleasure industry. One thing for her to whip other men while she waited to move in… but what if a man wanted to whip her? Not acceptable.

  Monica was all smiles, however, as she worked alongside Mr. Carlisle’s personal assistant to arrange the move, from the day a crew showed up to carry out Sylvia’s personal belongings to this very party wishing them the best life possible.

  It was the closest thing to a wedding the Château would ever hold.

  “I promise to take good care of her.” Mr. Carlisle, with his arm around Sylvia’s midsection, kissed her forehead and drank half a glass of champagne. She giggled, looking every other girl right in the eye with the knowledge that she was the first in the house’s history to move up in the world. Yvette ignored her; Judith shrugged and drank; Grace was distracted by both her patrons, the Mr. and Mrs. Andrews. Only Chelsea gave the young flapper what she was looking for – a sad demeanor that quickly turned to a smile when her patron Mr. Witherspoon patted her on the shoulder to ask for more champagne.

  “Good to see real energy around here, Madam,” he said to Monica, once Chelsea made herself scarce. “Although I thought maybe my friend would be here tonight to keep us company.”

  If only he knew what that sounded like. Monica had to hide her grin behind her glass. “I’m afraid that he couldn’t make it tonight.”

  “Of course. Toronto called.”

  Monica sucked on the inside of her cheek in lieu of making a disapproving face. Her dearest Henry was up in Toronto trying to convince the board of a pet supply chain to sell their company to him. His entire career of buying and selling businesses for a better profit made him a considerable amount of money, but the appeal of it went right over Monica’s head. She preferred concentrating on one lifestyle that came with a degree of predictability. She usually knew what to expect at the Château. She knew how to please men looking for a Domme or a sub for the evening. She was a natural hostess with a head for her own numbers.

  Monica also didn’t have to travel around for business. More than once Henry canceled plans on her because he had to go to Dubai, Sydney, San Francisco… he promised to take her to one of these places one day, but Monica wasn’t as interested in that. She was a homebody. Besides, if she were accompanying her Dom on an international trip, then she expected to spend it with him. Not sitting in a hotel room waiting for him to get back from his business responsibilities.

  No, it was much better to stay in her Château and make sure it ran on a day-to-day basis. If Henry’s plans changed… well, they hadn’t lately.

  Not that Monica was in a huge hurry to see him.

  Ever since she woke up that day to see Jackson Lyle waltzing up to the front door, Monica had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach, and it wasn’t the stench of her ex-Dom stinking up the place. She didn’t come face to face with him that day two months ago. Nor did any of the Warrens mention his visit. If Henry knew of it, then he never let on to Monica.

  There were two possible reasons for that.

  First, Jackson’s visit had nothing to do with Henry and he was protecting her, assuming she never found out about it. The other? Shit, it meant that Henry had no idea at all. Evangeline was the one who welcomed Jackson at the front door. What was she up to? Did she dislike Monica? Their few interactions didn’t lead her to believe anything.

  All right, so there’s a third option. The one that said Henry not only knew about it, but…

  No, Monica didn’t want to think about it.

  That they were in cahoots together.

  That she was being strung along on some gross joke the whole time.

  When she tho
ught about it – including now, at Sylvia’s going away party – her throat closed up and she could barely breathe. Nobody wanted to think about that, least of all Monica.

  So when Sam Witherspoon brought up their mutual friend Henry Warren, Monica could only smile, nod that she knew he was in Toronto, and hope that he would change the subject