Interview With the Dom

by Rylee Swann

  To distract myself, I shake hands. Smile my thanks to the guests who compliment the club, thank them for coming. I feel like a robot programmed to follow the motions.

  After some time has passed, Logan steps beside me. “Thomas is back.”

  He says it so casually, I don’t understand at first. “And?”

  He turns to face me. “He knows where the girl lives.”

  Even though it wouldn’t have been difficult for me to locate her again — her address is on file, after all — my pulse picks up speed because I know what Logan is doing.

  I’m afraid.

  I’ve not been afraid since I was a boy. Not since I was pulled from the back of my parents’ car by the emergency crew after watching my mother and father bleed to death. I went numb then, as I sat in the cold, my legs pinned by my mother’s seat, holding her hand while she died.

  I’ve been numb ever since, I think, and I’ve never allowed anyone close enough to make me feel, to hurt.

  My chest aches, and for a moment, I wonder if I’m having a heart attack. Or maybe that’s how it feels when the ice begins to crack.

  “Go.”

  I’m pulled from the past by Logan’s hand on my shoulder. “She doesn’t want me. Just the story.” Logan looks confused. “She’s the journalist who called you sixteen times.”

  “Shit. Is that why you’re so fucked up? Is she going to bash us in her story?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

  His hand tightens on my shoulder. “Then what?”

  “She’s… different.”

  “Then go after her.”

  “And do what?”

  Logan laughs. “I don’t know. Ask her out. Coffee. There’s this thing called dating that you might want to research.”

  Dating.

  I’ve not been on a date in nearly twenty years, not since before graduating college. The women were too filled with drama, wanting me to jump through too many hoops. During the rest of my twenties, one-night stands were easier. In my thirties, I began exploring the BDSM lifestyle and have never gone back, finding the rules comforting to a large degree.

  “What if she says no?”

  God, I’m pathetic.

  The sympathetic look is back. “Man, I saw her, remember. She won’t say no.”

  Glancing down at my watch, I’m surprised to see that it’s twenty minutes till midnight.

  An idea crosses my mind.

  “What?” Logan asks, sensing my mood change.

  I look down at the dance floor below me, the stage where two men are having sex, then turn to the filled-to-capacity VIP lounge. Fuck it all. I’ve already missed most of opening night. I have something more important to do.

  “Thanks.”

  The smile spreads over Logan’s face. “So, you’re going to her?”

  “Yeah.”

  He gives me a bro hug. “It’s good to see you evolve to the land of humans.”

  ***

  If being a human means feeling scared to fucking death, I’m a human all right and have the thumping heart to prove it.

  Logan had been right. Thomas was outside and “was pleased” to retrace the path back to Caroline’s place.

  After one stop.

  Now, I’m standing at her door, staring at the number, chastising myself.

  I’m forty-fucking-two years old, and yet I feel like a school boy.

  From this standpoint, the being human standpoint, I guess I am.

  My psychiatrists said things like me being “emotionally unavailable,” but I know the true diagnosis — broken.

  But can’t broken things be fixed?

  Maybe not perfectly. The scars of the break will always be evident. The glue clear for all to see.

  “None but ourselves can free our minds.” I think it’s Bob Marley who said that, or something like it.

  My mind has been in prison for a long time, and I may have found someone who holds a key.

  Taking a deep breath, I lift my hand to the wood.

  And knock.

  To most people, it’s a small thing. To me, it could mean everything.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Caroline

  I’m closing the belt on my robe when I hear it. A knock. I listen harder. Yes, it comes again.

  Pulling the towel from my hair, I check my face. It’s still red and splotchy from crying, but there’s nothing to be done for it. From the way I’m feeling, it may be red and splotchy for weeks. Months. Years.

  Walking out of that door and away from Xavier had been one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. Forcing my feet to keep going had been even harder.

  Even harder than when I finally left Pete.

  Not my cactus, the prick I named it after.

  Xavier’s explanation of the abuse cycle had been spot on. I’d justified my ex’s behavior for months. Mostly, the abuse had been verbal, which had been bad enough, pulling down my confidence a word at a time. When it turned physical, I should have left sooner. I still can’t believe I stayed as long as I did.

  The staying even more so than the abuse, caused me to lose trust in my own judgement. It made it easier to avoid relationships rather than expose myself again. To make mistakes again.

  So I’d focused on work, rolled myself up in a career blanket. My own protective cocoon.

  Until tonight.

  As the knock sounds for the third time, I pull my robe tighter together and toss the towel over the bar to dry. On tiptoe, I creep to the door, unsure of who would be knocking at nearly midnight. I had few visitors, and none ever this late.

  Rising up to look out of the peep hole, I can’t hold in the startled gasp.

  It’s him.

  Xavier Cross at my doorstep.

  Why?

  My mind rushes to danger right away. He’s a stalker. A killer. He followed me here with bad intentions.

  Wait. How does he know where I live? The contract, I remember. I gave him my address, almost like an invitation to visit me. There’s also his driver who brought me home. I need to relax, take a chance. Our connection was so strong.

  But there’s still the big question… why is he here?

  I take a deep breath. There’s only one way to find out.

  With trembling fingers, I unlock the door and slide the chain then push my wet hair back from my face. Turning the knob, I open it and my breath catches.

  He’s holding a cupcake with a candle lit in the center.

  “It’s still officially your birthday,” he says, looking at his watch.

  Something inside my chest cracks open a little. “So it is.”

  We just stand there, gazing at each other as the candle melts onto the frosting.

  “Make a wish,” he says, extending the little cake to me.

  Be brave.

  I tuck a wet strand of hair behind my ear. Xavier’s eyes follow the movement, his gaze as real on my skin as fingertips. “I don’t have to. I think it just came true.”

  His lips part as if in slow motion. “Caroline,” he murmurs. There’s a raw edge to his voice as he steps into my apartment, sets the cupcake on the little table by the door.

  Our lips crash together, and all the pain and insecurity I’ve felt my entire life melt away as Xavier’s hands move to the sides of my head, and his lips sweep across mine.

  He’s here.

  The man who wants no woman more than once, wants me. And I want him.

  It’s like I’ve found something I didn’t know I’d been searching for. I may have cried in tremendous relief if I could’ve done anything more than just kiss him back.

  “Caroline…” he says against my lips. “Can we go out for coffee, or dinner, maybe a movie or the theater.”

  “Now?”

  He laughs, the puffs of air warm against my face. “No. Not now. But tomorrow morning. Then the next day. Then the next. I’ve heard rumors that there are many ways to get to know a person other than just sex.”

  “Yes. I’ve heard of those rumo
rs too. We’re kind of doing it in reverse, but I like the idea of dating. Do I have to call you Master X?”

  I’m only half teasing on that one.

  His eyes grow serious, the blue even bluer. “Yes, but only when you want to play. It will be our code.”

  I stroke a hand down his handsome face. “And when I want to make love?”

  He explores my face, his gaze settling on one feature then another. “Just look at me the way you’re looking at me now.”

  I lick my lips. “We might be making love forever.”

  He kicks the door closed behind us and then pushes me back against its solid surface. His hands find mine and our fingers lace together as he stares down at me. “Forever sounds appealing with you.” His expression is so earnest, so full of truth that I swallow before I can respond.

  “So we’ll date, get to know each other, and see what happens next.”

  He slides our entwined fingers up until they’re over my head and presses himself against me. I’m crushed between the hardness of the door and the strength of his body. I love it. Love how small and desired he makes me feel. His lips find my neck and move slowly to my ear. I moan as he bites my lobe sending delicious sensations sweeping through me. His breath is warm as he whispers, “I need you” before taking another bite.

  Oh.

  Master X is delicious, but Xavier is equally good. It will be fun having both in my life, knowing I’ll only have to ask him for what I want.

  I trust him, I realize. And though I’ve been burned before, I want to believe in that trust. Believe in him. Only one way to find out.

  His lips move up my temple, across my forehead and down to the tip of my nose. He smiles and kisses me there before sinking lower and taking my mouth.

  I want to touch him, wrap my arms and legs around him, but my arms are still pinned above my head.

  I’m totally at this man’s mercy.

  “I need you,” he breathes into my mouth before following his words with his tongue. As his mouth settles on mine, I pull, attempting to free my hands so I can touch him as I long to. He grins against my lips. “I love kissing you. I love how soft your lips are under mine. I love how they move with mine, how perfectly they align.”

  I’m falling under his spell, seduced by his words and his actions. And I surrender to it gladly.

  Letting go of my arms, his hands move to my ass, boosting me up until I wrap around him, my back still against the door. My robe falls open, and he looks down at my breasts. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs before taking my mouth again. As his tongue explores my own, I push back with my tongue and the fire in my belly expands.

  He turns and walks with me to my bed, his lips never leaving mine as he gently lays me on the sheets. I sigh as the full pressure of his weight covers me. Oh, how I’m beginning to love his weight, pressing down, pinning me with his warmth. He’s heavy, but the pressure is delicious as he sinks back onto me, his erection pressing against my center.

  “Make love to me, please.”

  “I will, soon, but I want to enjoy you again first. I haven’t yet gotten my fill.”

  I take his face in my hands. “I hope you never get your fill.”

  He pushes up and away from me, but only long enough to remove his jacket and shirt, then he’s back, opening my robe completely. “You’re the only woman I’ve ever wanted to see again. I don’t know how I’ll be as a boyfriend, Caroline. I’ve avoided this situation my entire adult life.”

  I pull him down to me, sliding my hands across his chest and shoulders, digging my fingers in his back. “How about we just put our trust in our attraction to each other? See where that leads us. And let’s make a promise to be completely honest with each other. If that attraction slackens, we’ll talk about it. I want complete honesty.” I grin. “Unless my ass really does look big in a dress. I want you to lie about that.”

  He grins too. “I’m quite infatuated by your ass, so I don’t think that will be an issue,” he whispers into my mouth, and then drifts his lips down to my neck. Shifting, he moves lower and takes as much of my exposed nipple in his mouth as he possibly can.

  “Yes.” I grasp at his hair as his wet and sucking mouth thrills through me.

  “You taste so good,” he murmurs as he continues to suck and lick my delicate skin, nuzzling his face into my overly sensitive flesh.

  My hand is in his hair, and I press his head down harder, wanting him to take all of me into his mouth. He obliges, sucking first gentle then hard, and I feel the first buildings of an orgasm move into me.

  His lips move to the other breast, giving it the same ministrations while his hand moves to the one he just abandoned. He is kneading one breast, sucking the other, and I whimper as I arch my back, lifting my hips, needing attention there too.

  Shifting his position, he moves until his thigh is between my legs, giving me the pressure I so desperately need. I grind against him, rubbing and pressing myself into his leg.

  To my utter amazement, I come. Only he can make me do that.

  “I love how your legs tremble when you come,” he says, moving back to my lips. “How responsive you are.”

  Then he’s between my thighs, licking, sucking, biting, plunging, taking me higher with each new and different sensation. It’s almost overwhelming… tongue, teeth, fingers, pressure, and stroking create an avalanche of desire and an animalistic need for release.

  “Please, don’t stop,” I beg as his tongue circles my clitoris. He doesn’t.

  I come, powerfully, loudly and my thighs press together, clamping around his head as I ride it out. He continues to lick me, long up and down strokes as I settle, and my trembling begins to ease.

  “I love how easy it is to make you come.”

  My need for him is fierce, totally unexpected, and I sit up, pushing him away, surprising him with my strength. “You have too many clothes on.”

  My fingers are on the buttons and zipper of his pants while he kicks off his shoes. With a yank, I pull down the same boxers from earlier, then trace the length of him with my tongue. When a clear bead of fluid appears at the tip, I wipe it off with my thumb. Gazing up into those blue eyes, I deliberately place that thumb in my mouth, and suck. He tastes good, and his nostrils flare at this most intimate and brazen gesture.

  Well, intimate for me.

  His hands move into my hair, and he pulls, trying to move me back onto the mattress. I refuse to go. I want him in my mouth, to taste more of him. I want to see if I can take more of him into my throat.

  He isn’t used to this, someone else taking control, but he lets me do as I wish.

  Smiling to myself, I continue to stroke up and down his length with both my fist and my tongue. Taking the tip of his throbbing erection into my mouth, I circle my tongue down and around the soft underside of the wide mushroom head. He moans, and his hands tighten in my hair, but not to pull me away this time.

  I begin to suck in earnest, my fingers on his balls. I want all of him, but my gag reflex won’t allow it. I smile to myself, knowing I’ll get to try more in the future.

  Future.

  This beautiful man and I are going to date. We’re going to explore the territory of a relationship together. I still can’t believe it, and I also can’t believe how grateful I am to Glam for forcing me into the uncomfortable situation that led me to this.

  “What are you smiling about?”

  I take a long lick up his cock. “My article.”

  He looks slightly offended. “You’re thinking of your article now?” I yelp as he grabs my arms and tosses me on the bed. “Then I must not be doing my job right.”

  I giggle. Me, a giggler. I’m already changing in many ways, so I might as well embrace a new, sillier me.

  He reaches down for his pants and reaches into the pocket. “Damn.”

  I sit up on my elbows. “What’s wrong?”

  “A condom. I don’t have one. Do you?”

  I shake my head. “No, but I’ve been on the pi
ll since I was sixteen.” I realize how that must sound. “Period problems. And you’re the only person I’ve had sex with in forever and my last checkup came back clean.”

  He tosses the pants to the floor. “This may surprise you, but it’s been a while for me too. I get tested every six months faithfully, and I’ve never had sex without a condom. But I’ll go to the store if—”

  I pull him down on me. “I trust you.”

  As his tongue sinks inside my mouth, he sinks into me smoothly, filling me in one long stroke. “Fuck, you feel so good.” I smile up into his eyes, my hands on each side of his face, watching his first experience of skin to skin.

  And it’s heaven. I’m so full of him, my body absorbing each inch of maleness.

  “You’re so tight, so hot, I can’t believe how good you feel,” he murmurs against my lips.

  I wrap my legs around him, crossing my ankles so I can pull him in deeper, harder, tighter. Pulling down his head, I kiss him with all the passion inside me, eyes open and tears leaking down the side of my face.

  He pulls out of me slowly, inch by very beautiful inch, hovering over me. “Feel me,” he says, and he thrusts into me hard.

  I cry out as he hits the end of me, reaching the very foundation of my existence.

  “Feel,” he repeats, pulling out just as slowly as before. This time I’m prepared, waiting, willing him to thrust into me hard and deep.

  He does, and my cry becomes a wail, and I can’t stop the moan of pleasure escaping my lips. “Again,” I say, and he growls, the vibration of the sound making what we’re doing even more erotic.

  In and out. His hands pull my head back to expose my throat. In and out. He kisses me urgently, thrusting his tongue to the rhythm of his hips.

  I’m building, climbing, rushing to the mountain top of my climax and feel myself tighten all around him.

  “Let go,” he demands, and I do. Violently. Shockingly. I cry out in my pleasure as he continues to thrust into me hard. Thrusting until he curses and surges, spilling his cum into me.

  We lay like that for a long time, our bodies intertwined, still connected.

  “Stay with me,” I say, linking our fingers together.

  He kisses my cheek. “I’ve never slept with a woman before.”