The Gentleman Dom

by Carolyn Faulkner

  "I want you," he growled, waiting one scant beat for her to object, although no longer than that, when she didn't.

  He rose smoothly with her in his arms, and Elle found herself awed at his strength. He carried her through the suite and into its big bedroom without becoming out of breath in the least, laying her down on the bed before him, then lowering himself atop her – both of them more or less still fully clothed.

  And there she stopped him, not caring if it dampened his mood. "Turn the lights off, please"

  She could see that he wanted to say no, and she let the truth of the matter – that this was a deal breaker for her – show in her eyes, and he reluctantly left her just long enough to switch them off, leaving them with only the soft moonlight coming in the window through the sheer curtains.

  Not quite enough to hide all of her imperfections – some organic, some not so – but close enough.

  "Did he hurt you sexually, Elle?" he asked, his mouth at her now completely bared breasts, but not her nipples as he waited for her answer.

  Alt felt her stiffen beneath him at her question and regretted that he'd put her on edge, but he needed to know the answer.

  Elle swallowed hard, closing her eyes against what she anticipated would be his pitying look, and barely rasping out, "Yes. H-he –" She hesitated only for a second, but considering where this was going – with her consent – he deserved to know the truth. "He was my Dom, and he used that against me. I trusted him more than any other man in my life, and he betrayed that trust twice. I didn't see the first time coming, not that that excuses what he did, but the second time – the fact that I stayed and allowed him to hurt me again – that's on me."

  Eyes open now, she looked everywhere but at him. "It left me feeling really fragile and constantly distrustful of my instincts where men are concerned. And yet, here I am with you."

  She would have said more, but she felt him cup her chin to bring her eyes to see his murderous look, but his words were so tender and caring that they brought tears to her eyes. "Then he was a bastard and fool to throw away something so precious as the gift of a woman's trust – in any way, but especially the love and trust of his submissive."

  Her mouth would no longer obey her. But that was okay, because he didn't seem to be interested in an answer, instead, he began to touch her, in a slow, careful – but still possessive and sexual – manner, taking his time removing every shred of her clothing to toss it over the edge of the bed to land he cared not where.

  "Was he a big guy?" he asked as his hands swept slowly over her, as if he was trying to gentle her to his touch, to help her become accustomed to his hands on her body, avoiding the truly intimate spots in favor of simple, loving contact.

  Elle nodded.

  "As big as me?"

  "Not as tall," she whispered. "But a little broader."

  His mouth took the place of those pleasing hands that had soothed her so wordlessly, almost effortlessly, making her feel even her embarrassment at what she'd confessed to him melt away with each stroke. Warm, soft lips kissed the insides of her elbows, her collarbone, just beneath her left breast, pausing at her right hip to catch her eye. "Do you feel safe with me?"

  He was so close to where she most wanted him to be – to her great surprise – that she could barely breathe, although he showed no signs of being interested in exploring there. Although intimate, his caresses, so far, had been more designed to relax her than to ignite her passions – although they had definitely served to do both.

  Her smile was tight – her mind racing to catch up with her body. "I don't think I'd be here if I didn't."

  "Well, for what it's worth, you are. I have Dommish tendencies myself –" He grinned broadly at that, saying, "As you might have guessed from the other night, but you can stop me at any time, simply by saying stop. I hope you won't feel the need, but you are not to hesitate if you feel scared or in any way uncomfortable."

  "Thank you," she breathed, touched that he would order her to be aware of taking care of herself in such a manner. But she was entirely unprepared for him to part her legs and press his mouth – with no preamble whatsoever – to her clit, tongue lapping eagerly at it as she found herself full of fingers that found that sensitive spot within her in seconds as they crooked themselves deliberately against it with each strong thrust.

  Elle had never been brought so close to an orgasm so quickly, but she recognized that she was on the brink as her hips rose to meet his plunging hand.

  "Good girl," he praised, not moving his mouth from where it was, his tone deep and warm, and she found herself suffused with a warmth she remembered from the beginning of the relationship with Dunn, before it had gone bad; that pleasurable stroke a sub gets when she's pleased her Dom, taking her a notch higher than she'd been before.

  "Alt – please," she panted.

  "Oh, baby, no, it's too soon," he said with genuine regret, his fingers slowing, mouth lifted from that throbbing little bud. Instead, he moved to put her over his lap, the cock that had been poking up against her on the balcony now at least twice as big as it had been before, although he seemed content to ignore it for the moment.

  His hand lay on her behind, massaging it lazily.

  "Do you like to be spanked for pleasure?" he asked.

  She couldn't resist, even in her sensually intoxicated state. "Isn't that an oxymoron?"

  Alt laughed. "No, it's not, actually. No one's done that for you?"

  "I didn't even know that it was a thing."

  "Well, some subs like it, others don't, but I've been dying to swat your bottom since…well, since the last time I swatted it and you didn't seem to appreciate my efforts very much. But I think I could change your mind if you'd let me."

  He left it there, for her to decide.

  She was shaking her head, so he figured it was a no.

  "I can't imagine how you're going to make it feel good – it certainly didn't last time – but go ahead."

  He didn't move or say anything for a long moment, and when he did, all mirth was gone from his voice. "I know it's too early for me to say this to you, especially considering what you've been through, but I mean it. You can put your trust in me. I would never abuse it, or you, in any way."

  With that, she experienced her first non-punishment spanking, and it blew what was left of her mind, laying a foundation for her to place herself – literally and figuratively – in his hands for the rest of the evening, and she never once had a moment the entire night where she regretted her distinctly risky choice.

  He seemed to know her, know what she wanted and how she wanted it. He was the consummate gentleman Dom, asking permission – in a voice so imbued with an almost smoky, rough-hewn sexuality that very nearly brought her off in and of itself – to do things that he had already made sure she was quite desperate for him to do.

  At the same time, he didn't go easy on her in some ways. The spanking was intense. But then, so were his teasingly insistent fingers when he guided her into spreading her bent legs embarrassingly wide while she was still lying over his lap, allowing him access to a clit that was drenched in herself. So much so, that he didn't need any artificial help to continue to stroke her as the sounds of the swats he was giving her – that startlingly loud, flesh on flesh report – rang out starkly in the otherwise quiet room.

  He was so expert at it; she fleetingly wondered where and how he'd gotten his experience, but just then, he took her – mind and body – with three fingers, leaving his thumb to stroke over her, but not deliberately – only as it would because of how he was fucking her with his hand. He didn't try to stimulate her clit in any other way but kind of…accidentally…incidentally.

  And it drove her crazy.

  The balance he struck, between the searing pain he was conjuring in those well-rounded cheeks and the unbearable pleasure of being banged and flicked at the same time, left her unable to think of anything else.

  "Oh, Alt, I-I'm going to…"

  All intimate conta
ct ceased immediately as he rasped, "No, you're not. Not yet. I'm going to fuck you hard. I'm not going to allow you to come while I'm doing it, either. If you're a good girl for me, I might bring you off when I'm done. But then, again…" He grinned evilly. "I might not."

  Instead, she found herself flipped onto her tummy, where he gathered her wrists and her hair, at the middle of her back. Using them both to pull her onto knees, he gently but insistently eased them apart, merely by his own dominant presence between them. "Put your right cheek on the mattress and don't lift it, no matter what I do, or the way your bottom feels right now is going to be nothing in comparison."

  He heard her whimper and paused, listening for her to tell him to stop what he was doing, but she didn't.

  So he didn't.

  He watched – his cock dripping and throbbing and bobbing in her direction, desperate to find a home in her warmth – as she did exactly as she was told.

  At first, Alt simply snuggled himself up against her horribly exposed, vulnerable backside. His cock lying between her lips but not inside her, the head snugged against the top of her labia at times, well past it when he couldn't keep himself from rocking against her as he indulged himself in the sight of her. Those red cheeks sandwiching his cock sometimes as she presented himself to her beautifully, her other cheeks blushing brightly, he imagined. But mostly, every movement of his eager hips dragged the head of his cock over her clit, teasing her even more than he was teasing himself.

  Then, all of a sudden, with no warning, she felt him take her – and that was the appropriate word for it, too. There was no avoiding it, there was no ignoring how he possessed her in this raw, physical manner, so different from the way he'd been seducing her in a more slowly and in a more civilized fashion all evening.

  Heck, since they'd met!

  He could feel his balls dangling between both of their legs, her gorgeous bottom tight against his hips. He thoroughly enjoyed the sounds she was making – the whimpers and moans and the helpless way she was panting – as she struggled to come to grips with his size. Not that he was going to give her much time to do so, because he was fighting himself for control.

  He had to fuck her. He'd honor the safe word he'd given her, if she used it. But it would hurt him to the bone to withdraw now if he couldn't simply plunge himself forcefully back into her.

  As he did seconds later – hammering himself into her relentlessly, reveling in every aspect of how it felt to have her like this, on her knees, hands held fast, neck arched by his hold on her hair, breasts bobbing and swinging each time he bottomed out within her.

  He always did his best to delay his orgasm as much as he could, preferring to use his endowment to impart as much pleasure for his partner as he could before allowing himself his own release, but it just wasn't going to happen tonight – at least not this time. He was too close; it was happening too fast.

  His orgasmic cry quickly deepened into a guttural growl as he jerked her even harder into him, emptying himself deep within her as he pulled her up by her hair to grasp her breasts in the last few throes of his pleasure.

  When he was through, he didn't just collapse onto the bed and almost immediately begin snoring, as she had been used to men of her age doing. Instead, he stretched himself out on his back with her on top of him, on her back, his hands lacing with hers to bring them to the headboard. It had a rung running horizontally down the middle and he left her fingers curling around it.

  "Don't let me catch you letting go, my girl." His warning sizzled along her nerve endings, culminating at her over-sensitized clit.

  His hands – those hands! Very strong yet wonderfully careful of her, possessive and teasing all at the same time, and suddenly they were everywhere, all while not appearing to be in any kind of a hurry in the least. She was dying, aching in ways she hadn't in decades – or ever, for that matter. He was taking his sweet old time with her, draping her legs over his raised ones. Opening her wide to fingers that then ignored that which he'd exposed for the longest time while she lay there, helpless, as he touched her tantalizingly, plucking at her nipples, tickling her ribs a bit. Then, finally, as his lips reached her ear, he whispered, "I'm going to make you come for me again and again, while I fuck you."

  And he wasn't bragging. She could feel that he was already hard again. His cock was arching up between her legs. Seeking and sinking into her, just as his hands found her clit, using the overflow of her own body's reactions to what he'd been doing to her to ease his way as he set his fingers to tickling themselves over her exposed clit while he stretched her further open with each arch of his hips.

  And he was absolutely true to his word.

  Elle found she was completely helpless to prevent her body from following his lead – the first orgasm was riotous, and, to her surprise, they seemed to get harder rather than diminish, the more of them he brought her to.

  She was out of control, her body less under her command than at any time she could ever remember – following its natural leader. "Alt – no – please," she begged, not sure she could take more.

  He didn't miss a beat as he leaned up to whisper without judgment one way or the other, "Did I hear you say the word stop, Elle?"

  She couldn't think. Should she say it? She didn't want to be a wimp, but all of the ecstasy that was flooding her body was wringing her out. She felt…adrift in a way she never had before, and he was the only solid thing around her to cling to, but how safe was he, really?

  She took so long to answer him that he pinched her nipple hard, although his voice was still low and soothing in contrast. "Answer me."

  "N-no…but…" she said finally.

  "I didn't think so. Relax. Stop fighting yourself and me and let me have you. You won't regret it."

  She wanted to roll her eyes at that. But that one hand of his continued to fondle her ceaselessly, driving her mindlessly from one unbelievable peak to the next, while the other splayed itself against her lower tummy to prevent her from being able to move away from his cock even the slightest bit, requiring that she absorb every jarring thrust he subjected her to.

  When he finally exploded within her, she was no longer herself. She was simply a mass of nerves that danced to his tune and his tune alone.

  He'd captured and captivated her body, more easily than she would have liked.

  Her mind, however, was another story, and she knew she'd prove him wrong about regretting what she'd done with him from the moment he allowed her to recover her sensibilities – long, agonizingly pleasurable hours later.

  CHAPTER 5

  THREE WEEKS LATER…

  Holy fuck, that's Alton Camden – what the hell is he doing here?"

  She was in her office, but, as usual, the door was wide open, so she heard Kai's exclamation loud and clear, even though he worked all the way across the floor from her.

  Then the inevitable buzz from other fronts, as people began to be concerned for their jobs. "Are we going to be bought?"

  Elle had other, even more pressing, concerns.

  Holy fuck, was there any way she could avoid seeing him? she thought immediately, wondering if she could duck down the stairs or into an elevator before he saw her or hide under her desk like the coward she knew herself to be.

  The coward he knew her to be, too.

  But her question was answered almost before she posed it in her mind when he appeared at her door, trailing most of the population of the ninth floor. The majority of whom were not much older than he was – slavishly behind him, phones, pens and pads in hand, hoping to get a pic with him – which would immediately be posted everywhere – or an autograph from him that, like as not, would end up being sold on Ebay at some point.

  Elle didn't even get up. She could feel everyone's eyes moving from him to her and back again – dumbfounded and unable to come up with a reason why he would know her – and she knew she had to be careful. "Mr. Camden." Calling him that sounded so stupid, even to her own ears, especially considering what they had b
een doing the last time they'd seen each other. "To what do I owe the honor of this visit?"

  Calm, cool, business like. Perfect.

  But damn, he looked fine! No surfer dude clothes now, not even anything nerdesque, but instead, he was in a straight up businessman, button down, three piece, probably Armani suit, with a knit tie, silk handkerchief and what she would bet were Italian leather shoes that probably cost more than she made in a paycheck. Those unruly black locks were cut. not trimmed, but definitely tamed, and he was tanned enough that his blue eyes stood out even more starkly against his skin than they had when she'd met him.

  She'd fallen into them and allowed herself to get lost for a short time with him, but she couldn't let that happen again.

  Elle did her best to clamp down on her genitals, which were rioting all over the place just at the rumor of his presence in the building.

  They remembered their undisputed master.

  So did she, unfortunately.

  "I was in the neighborhood," he answered smoothly, but with a somewhat devilish smile as he didn't wait for her invitation – perhaps suspecting that none was in the offing – but took a step in, turning to close the door, saying to his adoring fans, "I'll be glad to sign autographs or whatever when I've concluded my business with Ms. Marden. Please disburse until then and see that we're not disturbed."

  Then he closed the door and proceeded to go around the glassed in office – uncaring or unseeing the crowds that were staring in at him as he did so – pulling down the mini blinds and levering them shut.

  She still hadn't moved a muscle, just sat there looking at him as if she couldn't believe he was here, and she couldn't. She hadn't told him where she worked, had she? If she did, she had no memory of doing so…

  When he was done, he took off his suit coat and hung it on the hall tree she had tucked in the far corner of her office. Then he proceeded to lean his hip on the corner of her desk nearest to her while he was rolling up his sleeves, still wearing his waistcoat, of course, and looking like he'd just stepped away from a Vogue photo shoot.