Her Dom (Dominic Powers #1)

by A. D. Justice

  “I just don’t think anyone ever has considered that before,” she says absently, momentarily deep in thought somewhere else. “I’d like to see where this goes. I already know I like spending time with you. I’d like it to be more.”

  “Sophia, there are things you need to know about me, beyond how I am during our working relationship,” I know I’m not telling her everything just yet, but there some things that are ingrained in me now.

  “Okay,” she says apprehensively.

  “One, I only have committed, monogamous relationships. I don’t share and it won’t end well for anyone involved if that were to happen,” I purposely wait, because this is a deal-breaker for me. I realize it’s a shocker for most women—that a man would willingly choose a monogamous relationship instead of playing the field.

  “I won’t have to share you?” she asks incredulously, and I narrow my eyes at her choice of words.

  “No, no sharing either way. I won’t share you with another man and there will be no other women for me. If you aren’t onboard with that, there’s no point in continuing this conversation,” I say decidedly.

  She blinks her eyes in shock before agreeing. “Yes, I’m onboard with that. I just wasn’t expecting that. Most men want to be a free agent, especially in a new relationship.”

  “I know they do, but I don’t. I have certain expectations and there’s no way they would be met if we’re not equally committed.”

  “What expectations?” she asks, now narrowing her eyes at me, tilting her head to the side and watching me carefully.

  I can’t help but smile at the look on her beautiful face. Her brown eyes are so expressive and she definitely doesn’t have a poker face. Just when she thinks she has me figured out, I throw her a curve ball and she has to rethink her position. “Sophia, my parents always taught me to take care of women. Not that they’re weaker and can’t take care of themselves, but that it’s a man’s responsibility to love, cherish, and protect the woman he cares about. I take that very seriously—it’s deeply ingrained in me now. If you can’t believe in me and trust me to do what I think is best for you and for us, we won’t work.”

  “Are you saying you get to make all the decisions for me?” I instantly recognize that there is no judgment in her tone of voice. She is simply asking for clarification.

  “Yes and no. There are obviously times you will have to make decisions without me, but I would expect that you would make the choice that you know I would approve of. If you go against me, it goes against my ability to protect and care for you.”

  Sophia pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, her eyes taking on a distant look, and I know she’s deep in thought. Her apprehensiveness and body gestures are giving away her feelings. She’s conflicted—on one hand, she wants to question me, but on the other hand, she isn’t sure if she should.

  “What if I mess up?” she asks and immediately casts her eyes downward. Seeing her muscles tense up, I know she is more than nervous—she’s scared. Her body is cringing at whatever thoughts are flying through her mind and my mind conjures images of someone abusing her.

  “We will talk about it, Sophia,” I respond and wait for her to look at me again.

  “Are you a Dom? Would I be your submissive?”

  Her question shocks the hell out of me. I was not expecting her to ask that of me at all. I’m not ready to share this part of my life with her. Am I a Dom? Yes, but I haven’t taken a sub in the last sixteen months for a reason and I honestly wasn’t thinking about making her my sub.

  “Why do you ask that, Sophia?”

  “Just your mannerisms—the way you phrase things, the way you take control. You just remind me of a Dom. Then, when you said you would make the decisions for me, I was pretty sure of it,” she searches my face and eyes as she answers and then holds her breath as she waits for me to answer and I notice a slight cringe—that fear again.

  “You’ve been trained as a sub?” I ask, but I already know the answer. Now it’s my turn to hold my breath as I wait for her answer.

  Ever so slightly, she nods her head in affirmation. I exhale and feel my shoulders slump. This definitely changes the dynamics of our newly budding relationship, if that’s where we’re actually headed. If she has already been trained as a sub, she will expect the Dom in me to take charge, to take complete responsibility, and to treat her as a sub. It’s not that the Dom in me has disappeared—he will always be there. He is me, I am he, and I can never be separated from that mindset. I’ve managed to keep him locked away and I had no intentions of allowing him back out to play. My self-control has held the desires and natural tendencies at bay for the most part.

  “That’s what you feel you need to be fulfilled? A Dom?” I ask her, mainly to test her submissive mentality. I’m fairly certain I already know the answer to that question.

  “I don’t really know any other way, Dominic,” she answers, her voice low and unsure. She’s waiting for a cue from me on how she should react. The submissive in her wants to please me and needs confirmation that her answer is what I want to hear.

  So many things become clear to me now. The instant attraction I had to her—the Dom in me sensed her, felt her, and wanted to make her belong to him. This is the reason behind the reoccurrence of the dreams—nightmares—I’ve had since I met her. It’s also why she avoids eye contact with me at times and why she responds differently to the other men on my staff. She doesn’t see them as a Dom, so she doesn’t treat them with the same reverence.

  “That really wasn’t an answer to my question, Sophia. Is that type of relationship the only way you can be happy?” Keeping my facial features neutral, I insist she answers me truthfully with what she wants and needs rather than only thinking of what I want. The two men inside me are warring against each other and my own desires are unclear. The devil on one shoulder urges me to take her, make her mine, and bend her to my will like a true Dom. I am not allowing her to make the decision regarding which course we take. I simply need to consider all the factors and ramifications of my decision.

  “What do you have in mind?” she asks.

  Clever girl.

  I give her my domineering look and she visibly shrinks back in her chair. My eyebrow is arched and my eyes are piercing hers, waiting for a satisfactory answer. Funny how quickly the little gestures just come back to me without even consciously thinking about them. Sophia feels it, too—her back straightens, her hands are clasped in her lap, and her eyes do not meet mine. Like the alpha male in a pack of animals, the others avoid direct eye contact unless they are intentionally challenging him.

  “I would prefer it. It’s what I’m used to and it’s how I know how to be,” she finally responds truthfully.

  I reclaim my seat beside her and consider the phrasing of my words before I respond. “I admit I wasn’t completely expecting to hear this from you, Sophia, but it’s also not something I haven’t already considered. If I decide we are taking this route, there are guidelines you will have to agree to meet,” I state matter-of-factly.

  “Like a contract?”

  I nod my head, but a thought occurs to me and I quickly amend my original intention. “I’ve used contracts in the past, Sophia, but I want to try something different with you. We are consenting adults and we can agree on the terms. We can each state our hard and soft limits and just respect them. We don’t need a contract to do that.

  “Besides, I don’t want our relationship to be about a contract. This has been on my mind for a while now. My position on it has changed considerably. In my experience, too many people get hung up on the fact that a contract is even there. It becomes the primary focus when all I want to focus on is getting to know you in every way and earning your trust.”

  Sophia gapes at me in stunned silence. She tries to speak but can’t find her voice. Tears fill her eyes and she swallows hard, trying to push the overwhelming feelings back down into her chest. She’s trying to hide them so she can just go along with what she thinks I want.
Little does she know now, she has so much to learn about me.

  “What about the punishment part?” she asks meekly for the second time during this short conversation. That alone speaks volumes to me. The quiver in her voice tells me this is a sensitive area she wants to know about but she’s been afraid to ask. Rather, she’s been afraid of the answer.

  “Sophia, I’m a little concerned about your past training. You seem to have the wrong idea of punishment in your head and we need to fix that. My expectations will be clear—and you will have to be clear on yours. We can compromise and come to an agreement. I won’t do anything that you don’t agree to. If you say no, that’s the final word.

  “But know this, I can read your body, even now, and I know what you’re thinking before you do. When you’re simply afraid of the unknown, I will push you past your limits if I’m certain it will bring you pleasure. I’m not into causing you pain just for the sake of pain, though. In fact, I am certain you will want the kind of pain I can offer,” I explain, hoping she understands the difference. I want to get in her mind and find out where she’s been, where she’s at, and where I can take her next.

  “You won’t make me do things I don’t want to do?” she asks for reassurance.

  I shake my head, “Never. If you have to safe-word on me, it means I’m not doing my job in taking care of you. I’ve already told you that I take that job very seriously. I enjoy doing it—taking care of you, giving you pleasure. Taking you to new heights gives me pleasure. I just need you to trust me, but I will earn it from you.”

  She is so visibly relieved at my answer, it makes me furious inside to think about some other man taking such obvious advantage of her. The light in her face is back, her smile is warm and inviting, and the muscles in her body are relaxed. Her hands are no longer clenched together, and while she still has great posture, her shoulders aren’t nearly as tense as they were just minutes ago.

  “I love the sound of that, Dominic. While we have some time alone, can you start telling me what you need? Should I call you Sir?”

  I control the intensity of my voice. I do not want to be called Sir under any circumstance in a relationship. I can barely stand it when people outside of my circle call me that, but definitely not Sophia. “No,” I state simply, not feeling the need to provide any explanation.

  Her brow furrows as she considers other titles. “Daddy?” she asks tentatively, her face twisted as if she’s just bitten into a lemon. I withhold my belly laugh—I don’t want to her to be offended or feel foolish for asking.

  “No, not that one, either. Just call me Dom. Even if we’re in public, no one will question it since it’s a shortened version of my name. No one else is allowed to call me that, by the way, so it’s really a term of endearment for you to do so,” I explain with a smile. Taking her hand and gently brushing my lips across her hand, I place a kiss each of her knuckles. She melts under my touch, becoming more pliable and open to me.

  “What will my pet name be? What will you call me?” she asks on bated breath.

  “The name I give you will have meaning and won’t be just a generic nickname. It may take a little time for me to decide on it, but it’ll be yours and yours alone,” I tell her and she readily accepts it.

  “That is one of the most romantic things I’ve ever heard.”

  I shake my head in disbelief. “Sweetheart, you haven’t heard anything yet. We are just getting started.”

  My Angel just pops into my head without warning. It has a certain ring to it. I may have to try it out on her soon and see how she reacts. The name is important because it’s a symbol of the trust, the intimacy, and the promise we’ve made. It shows she is mine and I am hers. I want more than just a submissive who is at my beck and call, though. My pleasure comes from giving her pleasure, from her willingly submitting to me even when she’s unsure, and from her giving me her complete and total trust.

  I’m entering this lifestyle again. It’s not that I’m becoming a Dom again. No man becomes a Dom—he either is one naturally or he’s not one at all—but I’m living the lifestyle again for her. I’m taking a chance I never thought I’d take again–for her. She has an air of delicateness and innocence about her that makes me want to shelter and protect her. Even though she’s been somewhat trained as a sub before, she doesn’t have the slightest presence of any sub I’ve met before. She’s very intriguing, mysterious, and different.

  I am so ready to get to know My Angel much more intimately now.

  “I’d like to get to know you now, Sophia. First, the question I’m not supposed to ask. How old are you?” I ask with a mischievous smile. Yes, I do know her age because it’s in her personnel file, but this is in a different context and I want her to share herself with me in every way.

  “I’m twenty-three years old. You’ve already told me you’re twenty-nine. So, is it my turn to ask you a question?” she asks with an equally mischievous smile.

  “Sure, you can ask anything you want,” I answer truthfully. However, that doesn’t mean she will get an answer I’m not ready to give her.

  “How long have you been a Dom?” she asks innocently.

  “All my life.” She doesn’t look pleased with my answer and I smile, “My turn again.”

  She nods, “Okay.”

  “How long have you been a sub?”

  “About a year,” she reveals and immediately drops her eyes to her lap.

  My voice deepens, threateningly and menacingly, to convey my displeasure, “Keeping secrets and lying are part of my hard limits, Sophia. Not just in the bedroom but in every aspect of my life and business. There is no room for negotiation in this.”

  “I’m telling you the truth, Dom,” she says emphatically. Her eyes fly up to meet mine and they are open wide, hiding nothing from me. Her arms are at her sides, conveying she is being open with me. Her use of my new nickname does not go unnoticed by me. It just rolled right off her tongue, right out of her mouth, as if she’s been mine for years.

  “Why did you look away when I asked that question?”

  She inhales deeply and looks down again. Rising from my seat, I kneel in front of her again. Using my thumb and index finger, I gently lift her face to look at me. Placing my hands on either side of her face, her small stature is immediately obvious, and a dark thought forms in the back of my mind. I speak gently but clearly to emphasize my point. Any mention of her former Sir upsets her and I have a growing concern that I know exactly why that is.

  “I don’t know about your former life, but with me, I prefer for you to look me in the eye. We can talk about anything at all—just don’t hide from me,” I gently explain. A tear escapes her eye and I catch it with the pad of my thumb. “I won’t intentionally give you any cause for tears of pain, Sophia. You can trust me, you’ll see.”

  Sophia’s tiny hands fly up and encircle mine, even though they are still tenderly holding her face. Her tears increase and I take a moment to examine her fully. There is real anguish in her eyes and she is no longer able to hold it in. We haven’t even begun to discuss her former life—how she was trained and what she expects—and she is already reacting emotionally toward me.

  “Talk to me, My Angel,” I whisper to her, my face close to hers as I use my proximity to reassure her, shield her, and protect her. The tears are still slowing, but she slightly cocks her head to the side and furrows her brow. Her eyes dart back and forth between mine for a few seconds before I see the light bulb click on inside her.

  “My pet name?” she whispers back.

  “Yes, love. You are My Angel, if you want to be.”

  “I do want to be,” she replies as she grips my hands tighter.

  “You don’t know the stipulations yet,” I remind her.

  “You said you won’t hurt me, that I can trust you to not push me too far, right?” Her voice is still watery and scared, but the tears are slowing and she’s beginning to calm down.

  “That’s right. I will push you, Sophia, but never more t
han I know you can take. And never, ever, to hurt you—physically or mentally,” I confirm.

  “Then the rest will sort itself out. I’m yours, Dom,” she says softly before leaning in to kiss me softly on the cheek. It wasn’t an overt, take-charge, enticing type of kiss. It was a gentle kiss of sincere gratitude.

  Chapter Seven

  There’s not much time left in our flight to San Diego and I have so much I want and need to learn about Sophia. I’ve held him at bay long enough. Dom is ready to come out, take charge, and coerce the answers out of her. He wants to make sure there is no doubt of who she belongs to by the time the first wheel touches the tarmac. While I’ve held off on this for good reasons, we are entering into this relationship differently than the norm.

  “Sophia,” I intentionally use her given name to convey I’m being serious, “I need to understand what methods were used to train you. Were you with the same Sir the whole year?”

  “Yes, Dom, I’ve only been with one man and he was the one who trained me,” she answers easily as she shifts in her seat so that she can face me.

  “Tell me about his expectations, his stipulations, and the same for yours,” I request. This is actually not easy for me to ask because I’ve never wanted to think about what is mine being with another man.

  “Mine?” she asks, clearly confused. Her eyebrows are drawn down, her eyes are crinkled at the corners and she’s looking around, but I know her mind is searching for an answer.

  “Yes, Sophia. What stipulations and expectations did you put in the contract? Or did you not have a contract?”

  “There was a contract,” she answers slowly, “but it wasn’t for me or my stipulations. The contract was only for him, Dom. It said what all he was allowed to do,” she looks worried. “I’m sorry, Dom, please don’t be mad. I’m not trying to hide anything from you. I just don’t know how to answer your question.”

  “It’s fine, Sophia. I believe you. I’m just trying to understand, okay? There are no right or wrong answers, so you don’t have to worry about what you say. I just need to clarify something. The contract you had with him—it only addressed his needs, his desires, and his expectations? It didn’t have anything about what you wanted or needed? What you were or were not willing to do?”