His Domination: The Absolute Trilogy: An Alpha Billionaire Romance

by Cynthia Dane

  “Ah!” Both his hands came down on her ass at the same time.

  “Do you like it when I call you filthy, Princess?” The gentle way he rubbed her red flesh lured Monica back into reality. “Do you like being punished because of how dirty you are?”

  “Yes…”

  “Yes, what?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “In that case you’re unbelievable. I don’t think I’ve ever come across a woman who takes so much pleasure in parading herself like this in front of me. Do you think it pleases me?”

  Good Lord, Monica didn’t care. Her fingers were burrowing beneath the fabric and relieving some of the tension he left inside her. “I hope so, Mr. Warren.”

  “It does in that it tells me I can use you as I wish. It’s one thing for you to tell me that. It’s another to see it for myself.” Henry bent down, hands clasping on her shoulders before yanking her up and pulling her into a half-embrace. Monica clutched his shirt and fought to unbutton it. He’s so warm. Anxious fingers felt his skin and the hard muscles beneath. Some of her hair came undone from her bun – Monica was almost too busy rubbing her arm against his erection to notice. “Since you’re purely a vessel for my pleasure, I’m sure you won’t mind taking matters into your own hands, so to speak.”

  He strained against his trousers, the zipper already halfway down by the time Monica fumbled with it and drew his erection out of his clothes. Now we’re getting somewhere. Her sore ass reminded her that more discipline could be coming if she played this scene right.

  Henry’s groan excited her, and all she did was kiss and stroke his cock from the side. Monica wrapped her hand around the head and lowered her tongue so she could have the chance to graze her teeth against his sack. That was apparently the right thing to do, for Henry braced himself against the bed and unleashed a groan so loud that Monica briefly worried that he would come just from that.

  But Henry was a practiced Dom who could withhold his own pleasure while his princess, lover, sub, slave serviced his cock with her hand and mouth. Monica took her time, both in the hopes of pleasing him better and fending off her own rising needs now that she had a good distraction.

  “You’re a talented lady,” Henry growled, his hand wrapped firmly around her bun. “Show me how talented you really are.”

  Monica situated herself squarely between his legs, her knees trapped against the carpet as her hand gripped his base and her lips parted over the head of his cock over and over, another inch entering her mouth with every attempt. His size was the only thing stopping her from taking it all at once – that and the fantasies filling her mind every time she tasted his musk and turned her mouth over to what her thighs craved for. Do I make him come? Monica wanted to feel him come inside her mouth and throat. Especially when he stroked her cheek and told her to look at him while she kept him hard and built his desire for her.

  “Isn’t that the image of a naughty princess?” Henry’s voice wavered every time his cock slipped into the back of her throat. “If only your other suitors could see you like this. Don’t give me that look. I know there must be other men out there who would kill to have you serve them.”

  Monica wanted to tell him that she didn’t care about other men. You’re the only one I want to please. Yet she didn’t dare stop what she was doing without being told to. Anticipating his next order led to her nipples hardening against the end of the bed.

  “Don’t stop.” Henry’s nails dug into her skin. “Suck my cock until I make you swallow.”

  Now that it was official, Monica threw everything she knew into making him come as hard as possible. She pushed him into her throat, relaxing her gag and relegating her breathing through her nose; she grabbed his sack and squeezed it; she flicked her tongue against the underside of his cock and then over his tip when she eased his length out far enough. Tell me more about what a slut I am. Undo her bun and pull her hair. Demand she finger herself. Remove her mouth and bend over the bed so he could enter her from behind. I really want that. Monica wanted to know what his raw power felt like… push her into the bed and thrust his cock into her as if that was all that mattered.

  Henry tensed beneath her before he released a long, steady and loud groan that matched the pulsing of warmth and wetness down Monica’s throat. The taste of his seed was not surprisingly unique, but it did arouse her even more, inciting Monica to use her free hand between her legs and stroke herself.

  Three waves of his orgasm ran down the back of her throat before Henry settled against the bed, released her shoulders, and began to soften in her mouth. Monica eased back. The moment she licked her tongue against his salty tip, a small stream of his seed dribbled from the corner of her mouth.

  Henry tipped her chin up, but did not wipe it clean for her. “Even now you look so put together. I bet inside you’re begging me to fuck you.”

  Monica’s legs quivered at the thought of him hardening and taking control again. “Yes, sir,” she said.

  “Say it. Beg me to fuck you.”

  “Please fuck me, sir. Make me yours on both ends.”

  His finger teased her skin, and for a moment Monica thought he would at least flip her over onto the bed and eat her out until he was hard enough to penetrate her. Yes, yes! Monica could see it, her petite body completely enveloped by his, his cock splitting her open and thrusting into her until he came deep inside her. I want his seed in my mouth and on my thighs. Anywhere was fine. As long as she got it.

  “Just like you’ve been fantasizing about what you want me to do to you for so long now,” Henry began, tapping his thumb against her chin. “So have I planned out what I want to do to your body. Hold tight, my nymphet. I have a wonderful plan for giving you pleasure unlike you’ve ever felt before. I just hope you remember your safe word.”

  Chapter 4

  Denied

  The sun was barely up when Monica awoke the next morning. Birds chirped on the tree branch outside the window to Henry’s spacious bedroom. Best of all, the chilly air wasn’t so chilly beneath his plush comforter… and the firm arm holding Monica’s body to Henry as he continued to doze in the crook of her neck.

  Monica tried to go back to sleep, but was too frustrated. Not emotionally, but physically. After all that build up yesterday evening, Henry informed her that she would get no relief until Tuesday at the earliest. Monica was agreeable only because it was a part of her role. Inside, she was screaming to have him do her at any moment.

  She didn’t even care about the kink anymore. All right, so she cared. But not to the extent that she would demand it. I was sent to bed so aroused I almost had a dream. A dream in which Henry held her to him much like he did now, only with his cock thrusting into her from behind.

  Monica would be more irate about it if she didn’t know this was a part of their ongoing scene. Even last night, when they cuddled on the couch and watched a movie while sipping wine, Monica knew they were more in a scene than not. Henry was keeping his princess locked in a palatial tower so he could take his time with her. Why not, when he got an orgasm even if Monica did not? He’s denying me. It seemed to be one of Henry’s favorite games. Rile Monica up and then make her beg for it for twice as long. Well, there would be no begging right now. Not until he asked for it.

  Then Monica would turn on the begging like her life depended on it.

  Henry woke up not long after her. “Good morning,” he mumbled, rubbing his hand on her arm and looking at the time. “Bad news, lovely. I have a couple of short meetings this morning. I hope you don’t mind. You’ll have me for the rest of the day afterward and then all day tomorrow.”

  “That’s fine.” What was she supposed to say? “I can wait for you here.”

  “I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.” Henry got up and went to the bathroom while Monica stretched and admired the view outside. Not too much, since she was dressed in her underwear and hadn’t brought a robe. When Henry emerged dressed in a casual suit, he plopped a box on t
he unmade bed. “Open it.”

  Monica hopped onto bed and brought the box toward her. Inside was a lacy purple negligee that looked like it would barely cover her. It’s lovely. It wasn’t red or black, but it was a healthy mix of the two. Monica hardly wore enough purple, when she thought about it.

  “Put it on.”

  Henry was fastening his cufflinks and applying cologne. I guess he wants me to model at seven in the morning. Monica obliged, pulling the lingerie over her torso and letting the lace settle on her breasts and around her hips. It fit just right.

  “Good to know I guessed your size correctly. Never know how that’s going to turn out.” Henry rounded the bed and drew her into a kiss. “You’re beautiful. The perfect gown to wear to our ball today.”

  “Ball?”

  “A ball for you and me. I’m so smitten with you that I plan to keep you entirely to myself today.” He squeezed her, hand roaming toward her rear. “I’ll make sure you’re well taken care of, but you’re to stay in here, all right? And keep this lovely thing on for when I get back.”

  Then will we make proper love? Monica remained still as he kissed and nipped her bottom lip. “I will.”

  “That’s an order.” His stern voice was authoritative enough to make Monica shiver. “I’m going to have breakfast downstairs with a colleague. I’ll make sure some is sent up for you. Use the bedroom and bathroom as you please.”

  “And the den?” Monica asked, gesturing to the room they watched movies in last night.

  Henry released her and stepped away. “I don’t think so. I want you to stay in here and think about what you’ve done.”

  “What have I done?”

  He stopped shy of the door. “Stolen my heart. You’ll be disciplined for that indiscretion later.”

  Before Monica could bid him farewell again, he slipped into the main hallway. And locked the door behind him.

  Locked?

  Monica tested the door for herself. Even when she turned the lock on her side of the door, nothing happened. He locked me in here! Heart racing, Monica went to the bathroom door and found it opened with no resistance. The drawing room door, on the other hand, was as stubborn as the main door leading to the hallway.

  Monica sank on the edge of the bed, a terrifying image entering her mind.

  He tied me to the bed and locked me in our room for a whole day. Twenty-four hours. For twenty-four hours Monica was trapped like a prisoner in her own bedroom. What could have been a hot dalliance in power and control had left Monica strained, bruised from her binds, and on the verge of tears because she had never felt so used. And not in the good way.

  Henry didn’t know any of that. In his mind, this was business as usual with a sub.

  Calm down, dumbass. Monica pulled her legs up on the bed, folding them until she was in a meditative position. After a few deep breaths she managed to settle her nerves and remind herself that Henry was not Jackson. He was playing games. They were in a scene. Monica wasn’t confined to a bed for almost twenty-four hours, left to cry in her pillow while her arms hung painfully above her and her bladder screamed for relief. There was nothing fun or pleasurable in that. Maybe some subs got off on that, but the problem was…

  By that point, Monica no longer trusted Jackson.

  The kind of relationship Monica wanted with a Dom could not be achieved without a high level of trust. It wasn’t possible. A sub who couldn’t trust her Dom was one of the lowest things on Earth. Monica swore she would never go back to something like that.

  Breakfast was delivered by a servant about twenty minutes later. That was Monica’s chance to escape if she wanted to. The fact I’m even thinking about it… She once again had to regroup and remind herself that Henry was not Jackson. If anything, he was simply ignorant to the extent of the hell Monica had been through only a year ago.

  So when the servant bowed to her and then stepped out again, Monica did not panic when she heard the door lock again. Nor did she feel ashamed that such a person saw her in a sexy piece of lingerie. Brand new lingerie, insinuating that it had recently been given to her. In a mussed bed, no less.

  Monica was used to nonplussed help. Yet how many women had they seen in a similar position in Master Henry’s suite?

  She ate her breakfast and left the tray sitting on the dresser. After a quick trip to the bathroom, Monica curled back into bed, this time bringing Henry’s pillow to her nose and inhaling as if she would never again have the chance to revel in his scent.

  Such a moment was brought to an end after Monica dozed off and slept for who knew how long. When she awoke, it was to the sound of someone unlocking the bedroom door and helping himself in.

  “You fell asleep?” Henry shut the door behind him. He glanced at the empty breakfast tray and clicked his tongue. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re taking advantage of me.”

  I should tell him. Tell him about that horrible experience she had at the hands of her ex. On the flipside, Monica wanted to see how their scene played out. I still want him after all. Henry, standing straight in his business suit and a clean shave. Monica pined for him like she had pined for him during their time apart. “I’m not, sir. I was sleepy.”

  She pushed herself up and knelt on her legs upon the bed, hands in her lap while Henry stepped forward and looked her up and down. “Well, if you were sleeping, then you didn’t think about what I told you to think about. How can you ask me to forgive your indiscretions if you didn’t even bother?”

  What should I say? On one hand, Monica did not want to displease him. On the other? Discipline was one of her favorite words. “How was your meeting, sir?”

  “Don’t change the subject.” Henry took her wrist and brought her hand up to his cheek. His face was dangerously close to hers, as if he would plant his lips right on her – but he didn’t. “I spent my whole meeting thinking of you. Thinking of your mouth on my cock yesterday. Did you like that?”

  “Of course, Mr. Warren.”

  “I bet you wanted something a bit… more, though. Tell me, how badly did you want me to fuck you?”

  “Badly.”

  Henry stepped back, although his eyes never left her form. Monica leaned back enough to push her chest up in his direction. Come on my breasts for all I care. She was beginning to starve for his attention. Just according to plan, probably.

  “No, I don’t think so.” Henry backed away. “I don’t think you really want me that badly.”

  “Of course I do!”

  Henry opened one of the dresser drawers and pulled out a silk restraint. “You say that, but I have yet to see you really writhe in need.”

  “Tell me what to do. I’m yours to command, sir.”

  “I told you what I wanted you to do.” Henry pushed her onto the bed, her head hitting his pillow while he pressed her wrist against the headboard and tied it there. He did not reach for the other one. “I want you to think about your indiscretions. You’ve been a terrible, wicked woman, Monica. Lie here and think about what you have done. I have another meeting to go to.”

  He’s not… The man was. He was going to restrain her to the bed and then leave her locked up in this room until he felt like playing with her again. Monica yanked against the restraint, her arm pulling and her teeth chomping down on her lip.

  “Are you all right?”

  It was that soft, kind voice of Henry’s that Monica hadn’t heard in a few hours. She opened her eyes and saw Henry looming over her, his hand on her abdomen and his eyes large enough to swallow her whole.

  Monica stopped writhing – not that it was the writhing Henry sought anyway. “I’m… fine.” She forgot the words she owed her Dom. “It’s just…” Her history. Her fears. Her ex-boyfriend who tried something like this and never gave her a payoff.

  Henry didn’t untie her, but he sat on the bed next to her and caressed her cheek with smooth fingers. “Do you trust me?”

  He wasn’t judgmental. He was,
however, firm in the way he gripped her shoulder and eased her back into his pillow. He still wants me to obey. Monica’s safe word flashed in front of her eyes. She could say it. If she said it, this would all be over. The scene would end, and Henry would either send her home to her Château or unlock that door to let her roam free. And I would feel awful. Monica knew that she would never forgive herself if she didn’t see this scene through.

  “I trust you, Henry,” she said, hoping that he would bend down and kiss her.

  He did. His lips, warm and soft, tended to her romantic needs, his hand wrapping around her breast while his tongue snaked into her mouth and down her throat. He won’t hurt me. Monica had to believe it. She couldn’t live the rest of her life assuming that every billionaire who tied her to his bedposts was going to leave her to her own misery.