His Domination: The Absolute Trilogy: An Alpha Billionaire Romance

by Cynthia Dane

  “Monica…”

  She glanced up. Regardless of how Henry felt before, he was now surely surprised to see his frail princess nearly prostrating herself in front of him.

  “Please, come in.” She backed away from the door. “Everything is ready for you, Master.”

  Henry’s eyebrows traveled halfway up his forehead. Was he expecting a different night? Intimate chatter? Cuddling and snuggling or whatever? Sure, Monica liked those things, but tonight she wanted to rekindle their romance with exactly what she had to offer.

  No more promises. No more “let me serve you tonight, Princess, and you can do it next time.” This was next time. If Monica was going to declare how much she trusted Henry, she would do so in her own way. In a way that so few men ever got to see.

  Henry seemed to sense these same thoughts. Although he took a step back in the entryway, he did not protest what Monica did or said. Instead he cleared his throat and stood up straight. “Thank you.”

  She led him to a chair by the fireplace, which crackled with ambiance but didn’t burn too hot. Henry sat down, and instantly Monica’s hands brought him the glass of wine before going to his shoulders.

  “Tell me about your day, Master.”

  Henry took a sip of the wine before he allowed himself to relax in the chair and beneath Monica’s touch. Never told him that I’m a certified masseuse. It had been her idea in the early days of her relationship with Jackson… to better serve him, of course. Those were in the Halcyon days in which he was a model Dom. Kind, but firm. Understanding, but demanding. Whatever happened? No, she wouldn’t think about him right now.

  “Well, today has been fine. I took today off to come see you.”

  “Your recent trip to Miami?”

  “Hot. It’s hot in Miami.”

  Monica pushed her hands down his chest and covertly undid one of the buttons to his shirt. I want to touch you, Henry. Immersing herself in his aftershave wasn’t enough. Monica wanted to kiss his throat, to massage his aching muscles, and to bring him the greatest form of relaxation a man could enjoy. Her lips curled in her mouth in anticipation.

  “Surely there’s more going on. You’re tense. If today was so fine, then you’re carrying worries from another day.”

  “How astute.” As he drank more wine, Henry gradually opened up about his recent business endeavors. Boring, to be sure, but the emotions he felt were anything but. Frustration. Anger. Indifference. A man at Henry’s level ran through all those emotions on a daily basis – and he had to be quiet about them. That’s what I was afraid of. Men like Henry tended to push all their negative emotions deep down. They had to, in order to be as successful as they were. That’s why Monica understood how important it was to calm him down, even if he didn’t feel that way right now.

  “How unfortunate, sir,” she whispered into his ear. “Well, you can relax tonight. Forget everything while I take care of you.”

  “I had forgotten everything until you brought it up again…”

  “I’m sorry, Master. I worry about you. That’s all.” As Henry tensed beneath her touch, she added, “I want you to feel comfortable enough to tell me what’s on your mind.”

  “Well, there is something I want to tell you… but not right now.”

  “Oh?”

  “It’s nothing terrible. Let’s enjoy the moment now.”

  “Am I making you happy, Master?”

  “Very much so.”

  Those sorts of words brought felicity to Monica’s heart. “I’m glad.”

  He caught her hand on its next trek down his chest. “I’d be happier if you sat in my lap.”

  “Whatever you desire.” The thought made Monica smile anyway.

  His arms wrapped tightly around her as she walked before the chair and sank gently into Henry’s lap. Her legs drew up over his, and her torso, barely clad as it was, leaned into his while her nose nuzzled the top of his head.

  “I’m sorry for any ill feelings I have caused you,” he said, arm pushing up her robe and touching the skin of her outer thigh. “Understand that I did what I thought best… I talked to my sister. She understands that man isn’t allowed…”

  “What man?”

  Henry pinched his lips shut. “No man in particular, Princess.”

  “I like it when you call me that,” Monica said, her demeanor demure but her heart crashing into her ribcage. “You make me feel special.” Better than what Jackson used to call her. She was nobody’s pet anymore. She liked the feeling of being exalted whenever Henry spoke to her, even if she were the one serving him. “Now I want to make you feel special.”

  She kissed him, the only overt act of dominance she would take that night. Not that Henry seemed to mind. From the moment their lips touched, happily rejoining after so much time apart, Henry gripped her flesh and nearly bruised her from how hard he wanted her.

  “You always make me feel special,” he murmured on her lips between kisses. “It’s me who will always fight to make you feel as good as you make me feel.”

  Monica pushed farther into his embrace, enthralled with the way he held her, brought her closer, and nudged her with his erection below. How long has he thought of me? Monica wasn’t vain, but she was pleased to know he had such a quick reaction to their reunion. She picked open two buttons and pricked his skin there.

  “Is there anything else I can get for you, Master?” she asked, her hand wrapping around his neck as she leaned into him. “Your wish is mine to grant.” She once said that to Jackson, and he laughed at her, saying she sounded like a horny genie. Stop thinking about him.

  Henry did not move. “Sometimes the best subs are those who don’t need to be told what to do.”

  Monica understood. She slipped off his lap, her fingers lingering on his skin as she placed one foot after the other onto her floor. The ties to her robe happened to catch on her nail, untying before Henry’s eyes and revealing the lingerie beneath. It was a good night to be wearing a pushup bra.

  She took his wineglass to her wet bar by the window. The sleeves of her robe fell down her arms, allowing Henry to gaze at the white of her skin as she poured him not wine, but bourbon, the kind of masculine drink she liked to have on hand for moments like these. I’m a woman who gets off on fetching slippers and the newspaper. There were words for women like her. “Bitch” came to mind, but she didn’t like that word. She was still a human being.

  One who poured a mean glass of bourbon and looked hot doing it.

  She knelt beside Henry’s chair and offered him the bourbon. He took it, smiling, his visage gentle and kind but his lips twisting with a bite. When his other hand began stroking Monica’s hair, she pushed into it, cheek rubbing against his palm as her eyes closed in beatitude.

  The room was quiet. The fire cackled. Ice clinked in Henry’s glass. Monica heard her own breath in her ears. Or perhaps that was her heart thumping wildly in anticipation. As much as she lived for this kind of life, she was still aroused enough to wonder how it would end.

  “Would it be so bad?” she asked, her voice a sweet whisper. “To spend the rest of my life doing this?”

  Henry regarded her with a concerned look. “You are really deep into the life.”

  “I don’t think I am.” Monica turned, her back leaning against the chair as her hand touched the back of his calf. “People tell me I am, but what can I say? It makes me happy. I like to know that he’s pleased. I like knowing that he can come home to a sanctuary. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be a part of it.”

  “Don’t you want to do anything else?”

  She thought about it. She liked her business, most of the time. There was art in matching patron and girl. Joy in watching them share their moments. Love in hoping it could last forever. “I’m not saying that I want to do nothing but hide in a room for the rest of my life where I’m treated as a sex doll.” Monica looked up at him. “Maybe only half the week.”

  “And your Château here?”
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  “I don’t know.”

  His fingers felt like Heaven’s touch on her scalp. “You deserve happiness, Monica. What you want hurts no one else.”

  She looked up at him. “What if I want you?”

  It was the closest she had come to saying she loved him. My chest is on fire. Flames burst from her heart, licking at her bones and caressing her sinew. The heat extended to Henry, who placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head before leaning back in the chair again. The glass of bourbon was empty, placed on a table within arm’s reach.

  “You need only ask.”

  Something stopped Monica from asking. Something warning her that horrible things could happen again. That she had jumped into a relationship too quickly last time. She and Henry were already skirting the edges of madness. I want to ask. She wanted Henry to take her home and protect her for the rest of her life. To make love to her.

  To dominate her.

  “Please,” she begged, clutching his legs, hands bunched at his hips. “At the end of the day, I’m a woman of simple pleasures. I only need small indulgences.”

  “You know what?” Henry’s fingers curled her hair. “So am I. A man of simple pleasures.”

  Monica pushed herself between his legs, undoing his belt and feeling as if her body were about to collapse upon itself. “Let me spend this night serving you, Mr. Warren.”

  “Please. Henry.”

  “Henry…” It was the sweetest thing to call him. Master made her feel like she was in her place. Mr. Warren brought the intrigue and forbidden. Henry? That was the intimacy she craved. The touch to her heart she wanted to recapture again and again.

  His soothing words continued to flow into her ear as she took him out of his trousers and eased her hand around him. Henry picked up his empty glass and searched for one last drop as his beautiful princess flicked her tongue against his half-erect shaft.

  He never asked her to do this. He never suggested it was something he expected every time they met up. Yet it was quickly becoming one of Monica’s happiest moments. Something so simple like running her tongue along his skin and feeling him tense up beneath her touch. He responds so well to it. Of course, all men did… but Henry would shudder, as if his whole body, as well as his mind and heart, embraced the intimacy Monica offered him.

  For even cupping her hand on the head of his erection and turning her head so she licked the top of him was intimate. She understood the feeling of her hot breath on him like this. She knew what it meant to tease and stroke and suck. Learning what he liked best and how he responded to everything was a gift in itself.

  I want to feel him lose himself like this. Her mouth opened over his tip, tongue licking the wetness emerging there. Henry groaned, the ice in his glass clinking back and forth as he absentmindedly shook it. It wasn’t until Monica took half his length into her mouth that he said a word, and that was, “Astounding.”

  Yes, she certainly felt it.

  Her grip on the base of his shaft was tight, her nails brushing against his sack as she lowered her mouth farther, farther, her throat opening to take him. I can barely breathe. Monica didn’t care. She knew Henry would not hurt her. He would relax and enjoy what she offered, but he would not drive himself into her tonight.

  Yet she squeezed, hummed, and concentrated on keeping him hard inside her mouth until he either told her to stop or finished inside her throat.

  I’ll do this for you every night. Every night when he came home, Monica would pour him a drink to enjoy while she brought him to this level of pleasure. She would constantly explore new ways to make him shiver. She would rely on the standbys most nights, but every so often, before he got too comfortable, Monica would throw in something new and delightful. All she wanted – all she cared about – was making her Master happy. There was no shame in getting on her knees. No horror in tasting him like this. Dear God, I love him. What an awkward time to realize it.

  Or was it?

  “Stop.”

  Monica slowly eased off him, keeping her gag relaxed as he emerged from her throat, hard and glistening. “I am willing, Master.” She turned her lips inward. “Henry…”

  “Call me whatever makes you happiest.”

  “Right now, I want you to be my Master.”

  “Then I will be. Sit back and let me look at you. Don’t touch me.”

  Monica pushed back onto her folded legs, her visage expectant as she waited for her next order. What would he ask of her?

  “Take off that robe.”

  She did as he commanded, removing the sheer satin from her skin and sitting before him in nothing but her pushup bra and lace panties. Henry took the robe and laid it on the back of his chair, the bright red satin touching his face.

  “Sit up straight.”

  Her spine had never been so erect. Monica kept her chin up, looking into Henry’s eyes, which widened from the suspense.

  “You’re beautiful. The most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

  He can’t mean that. Monica would not refute his opinion, however. “Thank you ,Master.”

  “How many men can say they have such a beautiful woman to serve them?” He held the glass to her. “Bring me another.”

  Monica responded with alacrity, her cramped legs feeling like nothing as she jumped up, took the glass, and returned to the wet bar. In poured more bourbon before she quickly went back to Henry and handed the glass to him.

  “Kneel, my sweet.”

  She was back on her knees, shoulders straight while her Dom took a drink of bourbon and studied her form. It was the look of both a man in love… and a man plotting his next move.

  “Are you here to serve me?”

  Did he doubt her? “Yes, Master. Command me.”

  “Finish me off with your hands only.”

  Monica was about to lunge forward when a thought occurred to her. “Where…?”

  “Use your imagination.” Henry smiled into his drink. “Make it good and I’ll reward you.”

  Music to her eager ears. Monica spared him a thankful glance before taking his shaft into her hand.

  Surprisingly, this was almost more intimate than her kisses from before. She felt more vulnerable. Monica couldn’t close her eyes and bury her face in his lap. She couldn’t randomly decide when to look up and bat her eyelashes at him. No, in this position, with her body in front of him and her head held high, Monica’s only option was to stroke him while they looked into one another’s eyes.

  They didn’t say a word. Why bother, when everything they needed to say was expressed in Monica’s clear eyes and the twitches in Henry’s mouth? I give him this, he gives me that. The quicker and longer her strokes became, the more Henry leaned forward, his lips coming for hers as he kissed her with the invigorated passion of a man about to lose the last of his senses.

  He stiffened. Wetness lined the top of Monica’s hand. Her lips relaxed against Henry’s as she incited him to do the work on that end. Yet his kisses were more sporadic. He wouldn’t last much longer – not with his breath sharp in his nostrils and his hand encircling her throat, tight.

  “Do you want it? Do you?” His voice was like a wave crashing into Monica’s consciousness. “Take what you want. Anywhere you want.”

  Monica didn’t have much choice. For when the last of Henry’s words hit the air, he groaned, hard and rough, the first of his orgasm hitting Monica’s breasts and covering her chest in his seed.

  She did not relent. Just as Henry’s grip around her throat tightened, he burst again, Monica’s skin now covered in a heat she could barely anticipate.

  Although she expected Henry to fall back in the chair and relax, he remained forward, both hands in her hair in an effort to keep it from getting sullied. “Did you like that?”

  “Yes, Master.” How could she not like the feeling of him dripping down her skin and running down her lingerie? “I..”

  “You like it when I claim you, don’t you?”
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br />   Monica blushed. “Yes. I like the idea of you owning me.”

  “It’s hot, isn’t it?” His thumb rubbed her lip.

  She couldn’t answer. Not without blushing more and possibly embarrassing herself… or was that even possible in front of Henry anymore?

  “You don’t have to be ashamed in front of me.”

  Monica lifted her eyes toward him. “Very much so.”

  His hand left her hair and caressed her chin. “Why don’t you go clean up? I’ll give you a sweet reward when you get back.”

  A kiss to her forehead sent her to the bathroom, where she did as bade. This is almost too much. Monica wanted Henry to claim her over and over. Inside her body, outside… he was right when he figured that she wanted it. Most “normal” women Monica knew thought the idea of being regularly marked by their men as disgusting. Not Monica. Nothing made her happier than knowing her Dom was pleased with her. Him doing that was one of the ways he could express that.