by M. S. Parker
But when he pulled out again, he asked, “Do you want to come?”
“Yes, Sir.” I wanted it so badly, I hurt. My entire body was throbbing, pulsing with need.
“I’m not ready for you to come. What do you think of that?”
Shaking against the restraints, I pressed my forehead to the padded surface and responded, “Whatever you want, Sir.”
Some people didn't understand this sort of relationship. Hell, I hadn't really gotten it at first. Now, I loved giving over control to him. Knowing that I could trust him completely, trust him to take care of me, of what I needed, it was a relief. Granted, when my body was screaming for release and he made me wait, it didn't always seem like a good thing, even sometimes a little cruel. But I knew he'd make it all worthwhile. He always did. Always.
“Good girl.” He twisted his fingers into my dark curls and tugged my head back up.
I automatically opened for him when he nudged my mouth with the head of his cock. My tongue flicked across the top and he made a pleased sound as he slid inside. He was so beautiful. I loved that I could make him respond like that. A groan escaped me before I could stop it, but he didn’t say anything, just kept stroking the thick length in and out of my mouth, letting himself go deeper each time.
I wasn't even aware that I'd been shifting my legs, trying to press my thighs together, until he grabbed my hair again and twisted my head up so that I could see his face.
He was one of those men who would always look young, even when his golden hair was streaked with gray. He purposefully kept some scruff to make himself look closer to his age. I also suspected he liked tormenting me by rubbing his cheeks against the inside of my thighs when he went down on me.
“Are you trying to make yourself come?” he demanded.
“No.” I flexed my fingers, wishing I could grab on to something, anything, to let out at least some of this tension. “Please, Dominic. I need...” I couldn't find the words to articulate what I was feeling, but I knew he understood.
His blue eyes burned even brighter. Lust. Love. Desire. They were all there.
He disappeared from my sightline, but I knew he was still close. I felt him. His hands spread out over my hips and I gasped as he dragged my panties down. The vibration against my clit stopped and I barely managed to keep from whimpering in protest...and relief.
That was what he did. Took me to the line between pain and pleasure, and danced us across it, teaching me all of the wonderful ways he could make me scream, make me come.
He chuckled and slid his hand between my thighs, pushing two fingers inside me. I squeezed my eyes closed as I struggled to control myself.
“You’re so wet,” he said as he began to twist and curl his fingers.
I tried to move back against him, but I was tied too tightly. Fisting my hands in frustration, I tightened around his fingers.
“Patience.” Dominic lightly swatted my ass, his tone telling me he was more amused than annoyed at my actions.
“Dominic, please.” When I got to this point, I was never above begging.
“Keep it up and I’m going to gag you, Aleena.” There was a warning in his words, his voice taking on the authoritative sound he used when he wanted to make it clear who was in charge.
I gulped, my stomach clenching. I wasn't sure if it was dread or anticipation. He chuckled and bent over me, his body covering mine. I shivered at the feel of his skin against mine.
“Is that something else I need to introduce to you, hmmm?”
“Yes, Sir.”
He rubbed his cheek against mine, his whiskers rough enough to burn. He straightened and I almost whimpered at the loss of contact. Six months I'd known him, and we'd been having sex regularly for four, but I still couldn't get enough of him.
When his hands caught my hips again, I curled my fingers into my palms, my body trembling with anticipation.
But he didn’t drive into me the way I’d hoped.
That was all I needed, one hard, fast thrust and I could have climaxed. No, he hadn’t given me permission yet, and if I came before he said I could...something low inside me twisted at the thought of being punished.
The thick, heavy width of his cock stretched me as he eased his way deep inside. This wasn't him being gentle with me, I knew. This was yet another of his many exquisite torture techniques. I began to shake, the need to come tightening my entire body, squeezing around him until I heard him swear. He pulled back out and paused, only the tip of him still resting inside me. Even though I knew I couldn't, I tried to move back, to force him deeper.
His fingers brushed against the seam of my ass and I made a strangled sound. Was it possible for someone to actually explode from not being allowed to come?
He pushed into me harder, faster, but still didn't give me permission. “Don’t come.”
“Please…I need it!” I pleaded, my eyes closed with the effort to keep back the tide.
“Don’t!” There was no playfulness in his voice now, nothing but pure, raw command.
Then he pushed his thumb inside my ass and I bit my lip until I tasted blood. Even that was barely enough to hold it back. The pressure inside me was pushing at the surface, desperate to escape. He thrust into me, going deeper and faster until the bench I was strapped to was rocking in time with his strokes. Air was pushed from my lungs in harsh bursts and my eyes burned with tears. It didn't seem possible that a person could feel this much at one time.
Then…finally… “Come, Aleena!”
I broke with a long, low wail, my vision graying out on me.
I was still dazed when Dominic carried me to bed—the one in our bedroom rather than the one in the playroom.
As he laid me down, I tried to focus on his familiar face, but I couldn’t. My lids were heavy, and nothing seemed or felt real. Nothing but the warmth of his hands as he brushed my hair aside.
He removed the soft velvet collar and I made a low sound of protest. Some people might've considered wearing a collar degrading, but there was no humiliation or shameful aspect to the sex between Dominic and me. He'd bought the collar for me as a way of showing that we belonged to each other. I wasn't the only woman he'd had this kind of sex with, but I was the only woman he'd put a collar on. The only woman he'd ever claimed.
He chuckled and bent over to kiss my cheek. “I’ll be back.”
I half-drifted, lying there. Not really waiting for him, really, just enjoying the blissed-out exhaustion that came with this sort of complete surrender. I’d never known it was possible to feel like this, not until Dominic.
The bed shifted beneath me and this time, I managed to open my eyes and focus on his face. They closed again as he pressed a washcloth between my thighs and began to clean, washing away his cum and the slickness from my own orgasm. Heat flooded my face and Dominic laughed softly.
“You let me expose, touch and taste every part of you, beg me to let you come and then you blush when I clean you up?”
I opened my eyes just so I could glare at him. “That's different.”
He shook his head. “You’re mine,” he reminded me. “Mine in all ways…including mine to take care of.”
The possessiveness in his tone warmed me and my discomfort melted away. He left again and returned a moment later. I watched as he sat back down, completely comfortable in his own nudity as he lifted one of my wrists. He rubbed his thumb over the reddened area and then picked up the lotion he’d brought with him. I sighed as he started to rub the lotion in. He worked in silence, finding each place the restraints or his hands had left a mark and soothing it with a gentle touch.
When he caught my hair and brushed it away to study my neck, I shivered, goosebumps breaking out over my flesh. I was getting chilly now that the sweat had dried and the heat of everything was fading away.
He caught a blanket from the foot of the bed and dragged it up until it covered me. “Better?”
“Yes.” I stared into his eyes, caught by how beautiful he was. How mine he was
.
I lifted a hand and touched his cheek. “I love you.”
He dipped his head and pressed his lips against mine in a firm, but chaste, kiss. “I love you.”
He went back into the bathroom and I heard the water running as he cleaned himself up. A few moments later, he was back and sliding under the covers next to me. He wrapped his arms around me and I settled against his chest. I closed my eyes, feeling warm and protected and complete.
This, I thought, was about as close to perfection as life could get.
2
Dominic
The sound of my mother’s voice on the phone was bizarre. Intense, wonderful…but still bizarre.
Three weeks had passed since I’d met my birth mother, Cecily Cole, and there were days when I had to stop and think about everything that had happened, remind myself that it had happened at all. Then I’d start to brace myself and wonder if today was the day that something was going to go wrong.
In my experience, something always went wrong. I couldn’t help thinking that way. It was how my life worked, how it had always worked. Happiness was fleeting in my experience, a shallow sort of thing that usually revolved around a decent Sub or a good bottle of scotch, maybe a business venture that distracted me from the mess that was my mind.
That had all changed, though. Because of Aleena. My world had changed because of her.
“Dominic,” Cecily said, her voice warm and full of a love that still baffled me. “I was thinking that perhaps we could get together this weekend and have dinner. I’d like to see you and Aleena again.”
Automatically, I checked the calendar that Aleena kept updated on my phone. I'd been a bit worried that when we'd started sleeping together, she’d insist I get a new personal assistant, but she hadn't and, so far, our personal life hadn't been a hindrance to our working relationship. If anything, it seemed to work even more smoothly now.
“We’re going to the Hamptons this weekend.” I hesitated and then mentioned, “We’re actually meeting with a friend of mine. He’s a DA here, but I was going to push and see if he had any info on what’s going on with…” My voice trailed off. It was still a bit awkward to talk about the black market adoption ring that had led to me being taken from Cecily and adopted by Jacqueline and Solomon Snow.
“The investigation,” Cecily finished. She paused a moment and then asked, “Would that be Jefferson Sinclair?”
“It would.” I managed to smile despite the fury that brewed inside me every time I thought about what had happened. Almost before I took my first breath, I'd been stolen and sold like an animal or a piece of furniture. And I hadn't been the only one.
“If anybody can manage to get information from the Attorney General’s office or the FBI, it would be Jefferson. He’s very much like his father,” Cecily murmured.
“You know him, I take it.”
She laughed. “You can’t work in philanthropy like I have and not make friends—or at least acquaintances—with some of the biggest powerhouses in the city. Jefferson’s father was definitely a powerhouse. Jefferson will be the same way in time. He’s already making a name for himself.”
“Why don’t you come with us, Cecily?” I asked impulsively.
“I…” She hesitated. “Well, I wouldn’t want to intrude.”
“You’re my mother.” I laughed wryly. Even after a month, my stomach still clenched when I called her that. I wondered if it would ever feel normal. “One thing you’re going to learn about me if you haven’t already is that I don’t tend to do things I don’t want to do. I’d like you to come.”
“Very well.”
I heard the happiness in her voice and it caused an odd little twist inside me. I wasn’t used to making somebody happy so easily. Well, except Aleena. Approval was something bartered and traded for things a lot more complicated than an invitation to dinner, or at least it always been for me. Before Aleena and Cecily, the only person in my life who'd ever cared about me unconditionally—and called me on my bullshit—had been my previous assistant, Fawna Harris. She still did it now, just not as often. I smiled sadly. As much as I loved Aleena, I still missed Fawna, but she had her hands full with her grandson.
I gave myself a mental shake. No more brooding over the past. I grabbed the notepad Aleena had convinced me to keep on hand and jotted down a note about my mother joining us. If I didn’t make a note, then I’d forget to tell Aleena and it wouldn’t end up in my calendar, then she'd have my ass.
“Will it just be us and Jefferson?”
“Yes.” I tossed the pen down and leaned back in my chair, swiveling around to stare out over the New York City skyline. “Since I’m pushing him for information, I don’t want anybody there that would keep him from talking. It’s not a dinner party or anything.”
“Understood.” There was an odd hesitation and then softly, she asked, “Are you inviting your…mother?”
“You’re my mother.” I closed my eyes as I said it, the familiar prick of guilt coming immediately after I spoke. My feelings about Jacqueline St. James-Snow were complicated to say the least.
Cecily seemed to pick up on it. Her voice was firm, but kind, as she said, “I’m not the one who raised you, Dominic. She did, and she’s still very much a part of your life. I don’t want us to be at odds.”
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I had to admit silently that I didn’t want that either. Despite everything that had happened over the past few months, despite knowing for years that I had been adopted, I couldn’t think of Jacqueline St. James-Snow as anything other than my mother.
“I guess I’m going to be one of those guys with two moms,” I said, trying to keep my tone light. “She is my mother, yes. But so are you. It’s…surprisingly easy to think of you in that role, Cecily.” It wasn't easy for me to admit things like that, but Aleena had been working with me on it, especially where the people I loved were concerned. Sometimes people really did need to hear it.
“I’m…glad.” There was a catch in her voice and I hoped I hadn’t made her cry.
“I’ll talk to her,” I said, rushing to fill the silence. “But you should know that she’s not always an easy woman to be around.”
To my surprise, Cecily laughed. “If you think this comes as a surprise to me Dominic, you're mistaken. I know how Jacqueline can be.”
Something in her tone made me sit up straighter. “You two know each other already.”
There was a moment of hesitation before she answered, “Yes, though not well. As I said, in my line of work, you get to know a great many people.”
I should have already figured that out. My mother was indeed a powerhouse, at least in social circles. Granted, Cecily was a good sixteen years younger than Jacqueline, but with Cecily's charity work, they would've definitely moved in the same circles.
“Were you ever...friends?” It was strange to think of how close Cecily and I had been to each other and had never met.
“Hardly.” Cecily sighed. “Though if things had been different, we might have been.”
Different.
She’d given birth to me twenty-nine years ago, but she'd been told that I'd died at birth. In reality, I'd been taken away and sold to the Snows. Everyone had known Cecily's story when she'd begun her charity work, but my mother had never even considered that her adopted son could've been Cecily's dead baby. Why would she? A part of me wondered if things would've been different if the two women had been friends. If Cecily had met me as a child.
Instead, up until about a month ago, she'd believed I was dead. She'd lived her entire life since my birth championing for the causes of children and young mothers, trying to reach out to other women who were young, pregnant and afraid. She developed programs for youth who had problems with drugs and alcohol, supplying them with the support they needed to get clean, finish school and find jobs. Her programs were designed for those with money and those without. She’d changed lives. She’d saved lives.
She did it for you, Aleena had told me
when we'd first found Cecily. It still moved me.
I wasn’t surprised to hear that the woman who’d changed her life after losing me didn’t get along with the woman who’d raised me as her own. They were as different as night and day. While both of them loved me, Jacqueline thought the world had been handed to her and she deserved it. Cecily, on the other hand knew how cruel the world was and she fought to make it a better place.
“You needn’t worry that we hate each other or anything like that, Dominic,” Cecily said, unaware of my thoughts. “We've always been polite and cordial to each other. Although…well, I imagine things will be quite different now.”
“Yes.” That was all I said. I wasn’t about to say what I really thought. Different didn’t even touch on how things were going to be between my birth mother and my adopted mother.
She did it for you.
Friday, those words were ringing in my head louder than ever.
It had been almost a month now since I’d walked into that hotel, since I’d almost stormed into the fundraiser my birth mother had been hosting for one of her charities. It had been one of the ones geared toward underprivileged girls from the inner city, one that I now knew was considered to be one of the most radical, and life-altering, programs to ever hit New York City. She was currently working to expand into several other cities.
“Dominic, I’ve got some more information on that chain of jewelry stores. It just came through in my email.”
I glanced up at Aleena with a smile, but I wasn’t really paying that much attention. I’d already lost interest in the matchmaking company she and Fawna had helped me get off the ground and I was playing with the idea of opening up a line of jewelry stores. There was a chain that was faltering and I’d thought perhaps I’d buy them out and slowly revamp them, make them into a luxury chain with specialty pieces.
Now, though…
“Dominic?”
I took the neatly bound report and flipped through it, seeing both the images she and Amber—my administrative assistant who handled only the business aspects of my life—had compiled from the chain as it looked now and artist renderings of what could be done in a year, two years, five years.
