His Domination: The Absolute Trilogy: An Alpha Billionaire Romance

by Cynthia Dane

  If Henry desired to come on her every time they had sex, Monica would rarely say no. As long as he could give her other things as well.

  He stood in the middle of the bedroom facing the door Monica stepped out of, his pants still unbuckled but his face no longer flushed from climax. Still, he hung flaccid. I’m almost disappointed. Almost. Because Monica knew Henry was a man who could be ready again soon enough. If anything, this pattern of him coming before the main event meant Monica got it for a longer period of time. How considerate. She cracked a smile.

  “Do you still wish to serve me, Monica?”

  Cold tingles pricked her skin. Was the window open? No, even if it was, the fire would prevent her from feeling cold. “Of course.”

  “Then come take care of me.”

  She went to him, his arms embracing her as he kissed her lips with enough passion to knock her over. Monica did not fold. Nor did she sigh against his mouth when he pulled the cup of her bra down and brushed his thumb against her nipple. This wasn’t about her. This was about him and – well, okay, so it was about her too. What I get out of it being about him.

  The sub took care of her Dom, beginning with removing his jacket from his frame and folding it over the back of his chair. Henry’s fingers combed through her hair until she turned around and unbuttoned the rest of his shirt.

  “Thank you,” he said, brushing his fingertips against her shoulder.

  The shirt fell from his body, revealing the hard, unassuming muscles he kept beneath. Monica always marveled at how toned his body was. Henry was not the kind of man to advertise how fit he was. Some Doms liked to wear clothes that accentuated their muscles. Others found clever ways to show off their strength. Yet Henry was so subtle in the way he showed off his possessions that it felt like exploring a new world with him. He was almost… humble.

  I still can’t believe this is happening. Monica pressed her hand against his chest and batted her eyelashes in the hope that it would earn her a kiss.

  It brought her a whisper in her ear.

  “Let’s go to bed.”

  They went, as soon as Monica pulled his trousers down and waited for him to step out of them. She folded all of his clothes together and left them neatly piled on his chair. The empty glass of alcohol went to the wet bar to be washed later. By the time she was finished, Henry was in her bed, leaning against the headboard while the silk sheets covered him from the waist down.

  He extended his hand and motioned for her to come to him. Monica obeyed.

  Henry brought her into bed with him, enticing her to lie on her side while he loomed over her, elbow pointed into the pillow. “Stroke me, my love,” he said, pulling her hand to his cock. “Gently.”

  Monica’s touch lingered on his length, her breath catching in her chest as he gazed upon her with an intensity that nearly made her melt. Yet their level of comfort at this point meant she felt no embarrassment doing as he asked, which began with simple strokes to his skin, and then wrapping her hand around the base of his shaft and giving it an easy pull.

  As she slowly made him erect again, Henry kissed her throat, nibbled her ear, and licked the tops of her breasts as they pushed up from her bra. Once his tongue slipped between skin and lace, Monica gasped, her grip on him tightening until he groaned and grabbed her wrist.

  “You’re killing me,” he mumbled. “I don’t know if it’s because you’re good at what you do or because you’re naturally so…”

  Monica dared to speak. “So what?”

  “Perfect.”

  “I’m not perfect.”

  “To me you are.”

  He kissed her again, his body overtaking hers until they were locked in that blissful world of lovemaking.

  Monica had long missed sex being a way for her to escape from reality. Toward the end with Jackson, it became a place of fear. Love, and fear. With Henry, all she felt was relief. The way he grunted into her ear, moved between her hips, and kissed the inside of her mouth made her feel like the most protected woman in the world. It didn’t matter that it hurt a little when he entered her. She didn’t care that her foot twisted into the covers. All that mattered was the safe, yet passionate sensation of this man reclaiming her after so long apart.

  I can’t believe I distrusted him. A man out to hurt her wouldn’t make love to her like this. She would feel used, repellant. Not like a sweet creature making love to her Master. When Monica thought of it that way, she couldn’t help but moan into his shoulder and bite the flesh there. Henry groaned, his hips surging between hers as his cock reached deep within her, his thrusts long, hard, purposeful. I can’t believe I fell in love again so easily.

  Tears fell down her cheeks as Henry made love to her, his face buried in the crook of her neck as he left another mark of his love on her skin. He was all around her, within her, shielding her from the evils of the world and the people who would want to hurt her.

  “Henry…” she said, her hips digging into her bed. “I love you.”

  At first she didn’t think he heard her. Then his nose touched hers, those clear blue eyes staring into the back of hers. “I love you too.” He thrust harder, as if to prove how much he loved her.

  He didn’t ask why she was crying, but he did kiss away the tears, their hands clasping together on her pillow as her arms were drawn above her head. Don’t leave me tonight… Henry tightened within her. Monica was so wet by this point that it didn’t matter what angle he tried or how fast his movements became. By the time he began to climax within her, Monica was already crying out in ecstasy, the tears flowing freely as she covered Henry in her love for him.

  “Don’t cry, my love.” Henry stilled within her, his nose drawing circles across her cheek and jaw. “I won’t let anyone hurt you anymore.”

  “I’m not crying… not like that.” Monica kissed his face, where stubble grew and tickled her lips. “They’re tears of happiness, I promise.”

  “If I had tears right now, they would be of happiness as well.”

  Monica wiped one from her eye and placed it on his temple. “There. Now we can be happy together.”

  “I am always happy with you, Princess.”

  They embraced, Henry still inside her as they slowly moved together and kissed with the knowledge that they loved each other. Henry, my love… The words felt so impossible. For the first time in so long, Monica loved without fear. She desired without remorse. Her heart was so full of happiness that there was no room for the pains of her past.

  “Be mine, forever.” Henry’s voice brought her back to the bed. “I can’t imagine spending my life with anyone but you.”

  Monica’s nails pressed into his shoulders, his back, any skin and sinew she could find within his powerful body. “Yes,” she wept, holding in the last bit of sanity remaining deep in her heart. “Yes!”

  She didn’t know exactly what she said yes to. It didn’t matter.

  Chapter 4

  White

  Monica had never planned a collaring ceremony before. Not even the one she had with Jackson.

  He planned everything. Part of the reason Monica was attracted to him for so long was that he took all the hard thinking out of life for her. He told her what to wear, where to go, and what to do on any given day. A collaring ceremony? That was like a party, and Jackson planned all his parties. Henry seemed like the kind of guy to delegate it to a professional planner and sign the checks with a shrug.

  He wasn’t quite as laissez-faire with the upcoming ceremony, but he made it clear he would like anything she planned. They would hold it at his house soon enough. Until then, Monica was knee-deep in planning the ceremony… and hiring a new girl for her Château.

  “What are your predilections?” she asked the girl sitting before her desk. She had long black hair, draping on her shoulders and resting atop her large breasts which strained against her small T-shirt. The types that come from that club… Monica couldn’t hold it against the girls. Sylvia show
ed up to her interview wearing overalls. “While we need women who can do a bit of everything, it’s important to know what you’re best at, so to speak.”

  A serpent-shaped smile crossed her face. “Every Friday night at The Dark Hour I put on a show with a guy named Scottie. If he’s not crying uncle by the end of the night, I’m not happy – and neither is the audience. Does that answer your question?”

  Monica cleared her throat. “Indeed. Would you be willing to move in here full time?”

  “Sure. Place looks nice enough.”

  They shook hands at the end of the interview and Monica had a maid escort the young lady out. Don’t think we need another Domme. Right now Judith was the biggest Domme of them all, and the others could do it well enough. Yet most of the clients coming to the Château were interested in submissive types. Just the day before Monica received a call asking if she had enough subs for a party. A part of her wished she could say yes just so she could peek in on what they did. Usually those sorts of parties ended with the subs on the floor, their leashes tight in a Dom’s hands and the spankings making their asses so pink that they couldn’t sit for days.

  Monica had to finish her coffee before she could think straight again.

  With the last of her interviews done for the day, she went back to her ceremony planning. I don’t know, should there be music? That sounded hokey. It was already strange that they were expected to write some vows for one another. What would Henry say about her? Only good things, I hope.

  The fact she had to hope that…

  “Ma’am?” A maid knocked on her door. “There’s a package here for you.”

  “Sit it on the table over there.”

  “I think you better take a look at it first. It’s not your ordinary package.”

  What now? Monica got up, the maid stepping out of the way so her boss could pass through the doorway. There, propped up against the wall, was a boutique box wrapped in silver paper and topped with a pure white bow.

  It was the sort of box that could only hold one thing: clothes.

  The maid saw herself out as Monica brought the box into her chambers. She shut herself in her room, locking the door behind her and admiring the beautiful package on her bed.

  The first thing she felt was fear. What if it’s from Jackson? Then she felt hope. What if it’s from Henry? There was no note to tell her right away who it was from.

  She would have to chance opening it to see.

  Ribbons gave way to the lid of the box, which popped up without any effort on Monica’s behalf. Inside was white, fine tissue wrapped neatly around a piece of… cloth? Silk? Monica gingerly pulled the tissue back to see white silk and lace, luxurious to the touch.

  She whistled as she held lingerie in the air.

  It was a white corset stitched in lace and tiny, sparse beads that dotted the bodice and ran down the sides. Lace trim bloomed beautifully from the bottom. If Monica wore it, her thighs would look like they were ready for Easter service… minus the fact that this was very sinful.

  The corset attached to a white garter. A tag attached stated Monica’s height, Sure enough the garters went with a pair of sheer stockings that were long enough to reach her knees when she held them to her body.

  A piece of paper fluttered to the floor.

  “A beautiful ball gown for a beautiful Princess,” it said. Monica held her fingers to her lips. “For the next time we meet.”

  The next time was their ceremony. This was what her Dom wanted her to wear when he collared her once and for all.

  Monica wrapped her hand around her throat. She hadn’t worn a collar fulltime since Jackson. Henry asked me what subs do with theirs when the relationship ends. She looked to her dresser, where a slim black box rested in the top drawer.

  She went there now, opening the drawer and staring into an abyss of silk, cotton, and satin underwear. Monica pushed two piles out of the way and pulled out the black box hiding at the bottom of her lingerie pile.

  The collar she wore for Jackson twinkled in the overhead light.

  Her heart grew heavy. So did the collar, suddenly weighing five more pounds than it had a second ago. Yet Monica did not cry, weep, or sob. There are better things ahead.

  She couldn’t get rid of the collar. As much as she detested Jackson and everything he did to her, it was still… it happened. It existed. Monica ran away from the situation, but she would not run away from the memories. As long as she had this collar, she would remember. A bad man. A bad relationship.

  It could never happen again.

  Henry wouldn’t like it, but he would understand. Although the circumstances of his old relationship were different, he probably kept a keepsake or two of his former sub who had to leave. In fact, Monica was grateful that Henry had memories like that too. He would be able to relate to her. Any other man may become jealous, but not Henry.

  He’s mine, now. Monica put the collar away and shoved the box to the bottom of her underwear drawer. And I’m his. That’s all that matters.

  She went back to the garment on her bed. White. Pure. Beautiful. It would look bridal if it weren’t so sexual. Nevertheless, Monica would find her best accessories to go with it. Diamond earrings. Silver glitter for her hair. A diamond tennis bracelet Ethan gave her in celebration of the Château’s opening. Should I wear a ring? Henry hadn’t mentioned a ring,

  Something else caught her eye in the box. After she pushed away more tissue, she came across a cut white blazer that matched the tone of the lingerie but would give her some formality for their ceremony. It made Monica smile.

  Her phone rang.

  “Are you looking through my window, Mr. Warren?” she asked the man on the other end of the line. “How did you know I opened your present?”

  “I’m damn good, that’s how.” Laughter told Monica that it was pure coincidence that he called at that time. “I just finished work for the day. Thought I would call and see how my lovely is doing.”

  “Your lovely is done with work as well.” Monica put the items neatly away in the box and replaced the lid. A tuft of tissue stuck out, forcing her to redo the whole thing while her phone balanced between ear and shoulder. “Interviewed some girls today.”

  “Any good candidates?”

  “I completely forget. Your present has jumbled my brain.”

  “Good. I want to keep you on your toes. Does it fit?”

  “I haven’t tried it on yet.”

  “I guessed your size again. It came from the same boutique as the purple negligee, so I’m guessing the sizes…”

  “Henry.” Monica chuckled into the phone. “I don’t want to talk about shopping right now, believe it or not.”

  “You’re right. There are way more exciting things to talk about. Like what’s happening this weekend.”

  “Is there something I should know?”

  Henry was silent for a few seconds. “Everything that you haven’t planned is a surprise. You’re always spoiling me. I’m going to spoil you that night.”

  “I think you’re confused on who is always spoiling whom.”

  “Oh, no, our entire relationship may be founded on us trying to out spoil the other. Whatever will we do? It almost sounds like we’ll be happy.”

  This time Monica laughed, and she was grateful to have the chance to. “I have to wonder about the white, though. You do know I’m hardly pure or virginal, right? Quite the opposite.”

  “If we were getting married, that would be one thing. You’ll see why I sent you white. Besides the fact it will look beautiful on you.”

  “I already know what I’ll wear with it.”

  “Don’t wear a necklace. One of my surprises… I can’t wait for you to see the day-collar I picked out for you. I’m fully confident that you would have picked it out as well.”

  “I look forward to seeing it.” She was glad Henry suggested buying her a collar to wear in her daily life. The bulky silver and diamond one was g
reat for certain occasions, but barely practical for going out to lunch or doing her work. “You have immaculate tastes. That’s the real reason we get along so well.”

  “Is that it? Good to know. I’ll mix it into my vows. Just you wait.”

  “The vows you’re writing in French?”

  “Okay, that was a joke.”