Dom Vs: Domme: The Deluxe Trilogy: A Billionaire Romance (Dom Vs. Domme Book 0)

by Cynthia Dane

  I saw the surrender in your eyes. You were home.

  We were home.

  “Hey.”

  I lower my tablet and see Katie standing in the bathroom doorway, hair wet and body framed in a T-shirt I left in there. It’s baggy on her. Sexy. “Feel better?” I ask tentatively.

  Kathryn takes a step toward me. She’s no longer yelling, so that’s an improvement. If anything, she looks like she always does outside of the bedroom. Relief doesn’t begin to describe what I’m feeling.

  “Yeah. I’m sorry, Ian. I lost my shit.”

  “You could say that again.” I put my tablet and glasses back on my nightstand. “I’m worried about you. Come here.”

  I pat the space beside me. She’s wearing my shirt, so she must plan on staying. Sure enough, her bare feet cross my room and bring her to my bedside.

  She’s so gorgeous. The light illuminates her golden hair, her skin glowing from the aftereffects of sex. My endorphins call to hers, if she has any left. This is a time for soft kisses, laughter, and dozy eyes. Watching a sub go from high-alert to totally relaxed in my arms is one of the best feelings in the world.

  I had been looking forward to that with her.

  Kathryn sits on the edge of my bed and swings her legs over. I put a hand on them, testing her boundaries. She does not shake me off.

  “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  Her shrug worries me. I can’t have her brushing this off. “Many things. Nothing. My brain is full of crap, but I want to sleep.”

  “You are welcome to spend the night.”

  “Thanks.”

  It takes a while, but she eventually pushes herself beneath the covers and curls up against me. I wrap an arm around her, careful to not touch an erogenous zone. “I’m sorry it happened that way.”

  She sniffs, and I wonder if I’ve made her cry again. “I’m not mad at you. Really. You did what I would have. I simply wasn’t ready.”

  She could say that again.

  “I guess I’m worried that… you’re going to think of me differently now.”

  My hand tilts her chin up until she’s looking in my eyes. “The only thing I think is that you are totally normal.”

  Kathryn shivers. Says nothing.

  As the minutes wear by, I slip farther beneath the covers and hold her more tightly to me. She’s so fragile in my arms. The tautness of her body begs me to kiss her all over, giving her the care she craves but is too ashamed to ask for.

  Her wounded skin is ready for my touch. I make sure I’m the softest man in the world as I kiss her tenderly and whisper into her ear that she’s beautiful, clever, and a woman whom I respect and admire.

  I feel her smile against my skin. I don’t know exactly what’s going on through her head, but I hope she can sleep peacefully tonight. Here, in my arms.

  Chapter 28

  KATHRYN

  I wake up in an unfamiliar place. At first I think I’m still dreaming, and then it all starts coming back to me.

  The sex. The freak outs. The going to sleep barely feeling any better.

  Ian.

  He’s not here, not even in his own bed. I’m utterly alone as I stretch an arm above my head, look around, and adjust my vision until it no longer hurts to open my eyes.

  The pillow pushes against my cheek as I slowly come to. It’s comforting, even as my brain is filled with the terrible memories. Shit, I’m embarrassed. How could I have acted like that in front of Ian? To Ian?

  My everything is sore. The flesh of my ass is so bruised from some simple spankings that I can’t take any position but on my stomach. The T-shirt I borrowed to sleep in nearly strangles me as I drown in it. Yet all I can think about is how warm and comfortable this bed is. The mattress is the right firmness. The sheets are Egyptian cotton. 1500 thread count. The comforter is full of down and feels so light and airy on my body. If it weren’t for my ass and the memories, I would be tempted to spend the whole day in this bed – alone.

  I doubt Ian would have left me here, or at least not for long. I don’t see a note anywhere. This room is so soundproofed that I can’t tell if he’s in the bathroom. A part of me doesn’t care.

  The other part wants him here right now.

  I draw the comforter over my head and pretend that last night didn’t happen. Although I may have showered, I still feel… dirty. Inside, I feel dirty. I know I’m not. I know it’s irrational. Millions – maybe billions – of women do that all the time and feel dandy.

  Those women aren’t me.

  The comforter tugs down my face. I open my eyes to see Ian, still dressed in his night clothes, looming over me with two cups of coffee in his hands.

  “Morning, darling.’

  It’s an empty pet name. Even so, I fling back the covers, sigh, and face the fact that today has to happen.

  One of the coffee cups is placed on the nightstand next to me. Ian sits on the other side of the wide bed, gingerly pulling himself toward me so he doesn’t spill his coffee, which he sips pensively. What is he thinking? Shit, do I wanna know? Probably not. It’s probably about me.

  “You feeling better this morning?”

  I avoid answering by drinking my coffee. It’s bitter, as coffee tends to be, but somehow Ian remembered that I like sugar and a hint of cream. He must have heard me tell Anita over and over during those two weeks we worked together.

  “I feel better with this coffee, thanks.”

  Ian’s lips curl together, and he leans back against the headboard. The one he had me handcuffed to last night. “You had a rough night.”

  “Thanks for the reminder.”

  “I’m serious. You wanna talk about it?”

  What in the world is this? Of course Ian would be the guy who wants to “talk” in the morning. But he’s a Dom, as I have to constantly remind myself. Apparently a very good one, because Doms know how important it is to keep communication open.

  I don’t know why he cares about it, though. Not like we’re doing that again.

  “Do I have a choice?” I ask, putting the coffee down and snuggling into his bed.

  Likewise, he puts his coffee down on the other side and curls up next to me. Did he brush his teeth already? I don’t smell any morning breath. Mine must be a disaster after sucking dick.

  “You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want, but it would be a good idea.”

  “I know, I know…”

  “Babe… can I call you that?”

  My eyes narrow. “I guess. Only here.”

  “I get it. You’re not used to subbing, and not in the wide-eye virgin way. I did my best to make you comfortable, but I clearly failed in the end. That’s on me. I’m sorry.”

  One part of me yearns to reach out and take him into my arms. Or at least to feel my cheek against his warm chest. Last night, he held me for as long as I could remember, his body wrapped with mine and his hot breath blanketing the back of my neck until I finally fell asleep, tear tracks still on my face.

  I feel my eyes. They’re so full of gunk that it’s amazing I can even see.

  “You didn’t fail. Like I told you last night, I wasn’t ready for that, even though I thought I was. I should be apologizing for how I reacted. I’m sure that wasn’t pleasant.”

  “No, but it was genuine. I should have read you better. But I admit, I’m not used to being with a woman coming from your point of view.”

  “Oh, I’m sure. All your subs are either into it already or coming from the most vanilla background possible.” I realize how that sounds. “Sorry. No offense.”

  “Why would I be offended? Katie, I want you to be open and honest with me. Even if we never do this again, I don’t want you thinking back on this time like that. Or you know, if we see each other again outside of here. Like for work.”

  I want to tell him that he has nothing to worry about. I can handle myself. I’m not going to be triggered seeing him later on.

&nbs
p; I want to say that, but I can’t.

  “You want me to be honest? Fine. I freaked out because what my body wants and what my mind wants are two different things. I don’t pretend to understand it, but there you go. That’s why you couldn’t read me fast enough. My body was telling you to go for it while my mind panicked at the last minute. I can’t control it, like you can’t control your damned cock when it decides to go crazy.”

  “At least you understand.”

  “I’m serious, Ian. That’s what happened.”

  He puts his hand on my arm, squeezing me enough to make me tense. “I believe you. Now do you want to hear my honesty?”

  Not really, but I don’t stop him.

  “I think you’re a proud but scared woman. I don’t say that to insult you. Far from it. I won’t pretend I know exactly what you’re going through at any given moment. I don’t have the disadvantages that you do. But…” He pushes some of my tangled hair out of my eyes. His fingertips feel so… liberating. I hate it. “I think you can overcome the uncertainty in your mind. You don’t have to compromise who you really are with me. Katie, the whole point of being with a Dom like me is revealing who you really are. It doesn’t have to be the most submissive kitten in the world. It can be a Domme who takes a day or two out of her month to completely let go of control and indulge in what her body and soul yearns for.”

  “You’ll see me differently.” The same thing I said to him last night after I came down from my panic attack.

  “In a way. I see you differently now than I did a day before. I see how scared you are. That doesn’t lower yourself in my eyes. That means you’re human.”

  “Was I somehow not human before?” I can’t tell if he’s being patronizing or not. For his sake, he better not be.

  Ian slowly moves his hand from my shoulder to my neck, to my face. The man doesn’t have the biggest hands in the world, but they’re more than enough to cover my skin and make me feel the strength within him. I want to shudder, but refrain.

  I think he’s going to speak, but instead he comes down on me. Kisses me.

  There’s no pressure behind it. Just a kiss. A sweet, melting kiss that parts my lips and caresses my tongue. My hand is in his hair. His hands are on my sides, arms curling around me as he brings me in closer. Ian’s embrace is so warm.

  I don’t know what I’m feeling. A mixture of relief and anxiety. I’m relieved that I can still feel safe with him, but I’m anxious because my body is starting to ache – and not from my sore ass and thighs.

  We make love, but it’s not what you think. It’s not sex. He never touches me below the waist. He barely touches my breasts, letting my nipples peak before brushing his lips against them through his T-shirt I’ve borrowed. There are thrusts coming at me, but he’s barely hard, and I never think he’s going to penetrate me. I don’t want that right now anyway.

  Is he reading me?

  I read men as a Domme. They are easy to read, very open with what they want. When a man is put into a submissive position, he tends to be the most open book he’s ever been. You’d think it was the same for women, but if you’re a woman like me then you know that sharing your fee-fees is akin to career and social suicide.

  Sometimes I feel like such a man.

  No, what Ian and I are doing isn’t sex. It’s… lovemaking.

  “You feel pretty human to me,” he whispers into my ear, his chest pressing against mine and the strength in his hips keeping me trapped against his bed. “A human who deserves to feel good and feel worshiped.”

  He keeps his eyes on me as he descends my stomach, hands pushing up the shirt until I’m completely bare to him. When his tongue hits my slit, I’m ready.

  It’s slow, it’s gentle. He never asks for anything in return, and when I come from his tongue five minutes later, I know I’m in deep, deep trouble.

  Deep fucking trouble.

  Chapter 29

  IAN

  “I’ve solved our funding discrepancy!”

  I let my father pour me a scotch before settling back into my leather chair. He’s invited me out to his favorite club. A real good ol’ boys abode where cigar smoke is thick and all the waiters wear bowties. We’re here in the corner of a lounge, a few other men in their finest suits laughing it up when it comes to wives, daughters, and mistresses. My father is the only one bringing up business, and since he’s so happy it must be public knowledge.

  “Oh?” The scotch isn’t my favorite, but I let it roll over my tongue and flush down my throat. “And where are you picking up an extra fifteen-million dollars?”

  Chuckling, my father swings one leg over the other and raises his eyebrows in that know-how way. He’s done that my whole life. When he knows something that I don’t, or is about to lay on something I would have never thought of. “Let’s say our pal Crow has come through for us as our final investor.”

  Now I raise my brows, and it’s not because I’m about to impart some knowledge onto my father. Far from it. If anything, I’m a tad concerned. “Xavier Crow from Black Raven Pharmaceuticals?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “Surprised you’re getting in bed with that guy.”

  “Anyone who is anyone is getting into bed with Crow. What? The only other alternative was Jackson Lyle, and nobody will touch his money for at least a year until the whole bruh-ha-ha with the Warrens die down. We can’t risk offending them.”

  “No. We can’t.” My father’s courting of Henry Warren played out, and the man threw down five-million for The Grand. He’ll probably want the Honeymoon Suite we have planned out for him and his bride. “Still, a pharmaceutical man?”

  “Crow is all about real estate on the side. He owns half of the Pacific Northwest now.”

  “So I’ve heard. He’s also pissing people off in Portland because most of his buying leads to some of the fastest gentrification this country has ever seen.”

  “Son, that’s Portland. It’s three-thousand miles away. People around here don’t give a rat’s ass about west coast real estate, unless they have a hand in it. Besides, that whole presentation you gave was all about how we’re not further gentrifying the old district. I don’t know what you have against this. Crow is known for being right in line with your lifestyle. In fact, he runs the most exclusive club on the west coast.”

  I stiffen. My father knows about my “lifestyle” insofar people talk about seeing me at The Dark Hour, and he’s met a few of my past subs when I needed a date for a dinner or party. Plus, my mother knows everything, because she’s a nosy woman who is always up in my love life. When she’s drunk, she’s liable to tell my father everything about me. It’s a problem I ignore.

  Until now.

  “What Xavier Crow does in his private time doesn’t concern me, especially three-thousand miles away, as you say.” I drink more of the scotch to ease my nerves. “What does concern me is whether or not we want to be attached to a man like that.”

  “It doesn’t matter, son, it’s been done. It was the only way we could pay the Andrews.”

  In the days since we last negotiated, the Andrews presented a final offer of sixty-five-million. Still way above the worth of The Grand, but they were firm that they would not come down any farther, no matter how much my father presented the facts. They wouldn’t even listen to me, and they like me. They must need that money for something.

  And on the subject of money, no matter how we crunched the numbers, nobody could come up with millions more. Our top budget was fifty. My father’s been busy wrestling up the extra fifteen, and apparently he found it in a new friend named Xavier Crow.

  “Soon enough we will be the proud owners of The Grand. Then the real work begins.” My father tops off his drink with a smile. “That reminds me, Ian, we need to set up a crew for you on the administrative end. Your assistant won’t be enough.”

  Ah, yes. My father is foisting all the real work on me. Managing the contractors, handling the money, dea
ling with the press… all the joys that come from a high profile remodel. I haven’t been sweating it because I know what needs to be done, but he’s right, it’s a lot of work for me to handle with only Valerie to count on. Yet if my father thinks I’m going to have a “team” of talking heads, he’s got another think coming.

  “There’s only one person I want to work with,” I say. “I want Kathryn.”

  He eyes me with what can only be described as curiosity. Maybe a little bemusement. “Alison? Well, sure, but… doesn’t she have her own shit to worry about right now?”

  “I don’t doubt she’s looking for a new project to tie her over until they let her work on the museum. A school. A library. Some homeless shelter.” I match my father’s chuckle, just to let him know we’re on the same page. “That woman loves to give, if you know what I mean.”

  Our eyes meet in the darkness of the room. Yes, Father, read into that all you want. This is the closest I’ve come to giving away what’s happening between Kathryn and I. For good reason. This is to my advantage.

  My father speaks two languages. Money and women. Money we both understand. Women are another matter. This is the man who married a hot young thing when he knocked her up, divorced her after their twentieth anniversary, and then occasionally hooked up with her once in a while because hey, they’re still in love! Never let it be said the Mathers were level-headed individuals. My parents make me look like a saint with his shit together.

  “So… you and Kathryn Alison.” My father goes from twisting his mouth in surprise to settling in his chair, laughing. “That woman’s a real hot-head, I hear. You gonna keep her in line?”

  I want to scoff at his choice of words – my mother has her feminist teeth deep in my neck – but I have to play his game. Especially if I’m to get what I want. “You could say that. I only need her. Well, her and the assistant she’ll in turn bring. Of course she’ll demand a higher price tag than five lackeys put together, but she’s smart and knows what she’s doing. She’s worth those five lackeys and then some.”