by Sky Corgan
Apparently, he wasn't tired either, because gentle hugging soon turned into him pressing against me. I could feel his firm erection jabbing into my backside, followed by the soft touch of his lips on my shoulder. My clit throbbed in approval, but my heart was slamming on the breaks.
“I'm tired,” I lied, just wanting to be left alone.
“You had all day to sleep,” he said, his mouth moving up to kiss and suck on my earlobe.
“I didn't sleep all day.” I turned my head, pulling away from him.
Dominick sat up, looking over at me. “Are you alright?”
“I'm fine. Why?”
“You've been acting weird since dinner.”
“I'm just tired.”
“Too tired for sex?” He poked at my back.
“You're insatiable.”
“I thought you liked that about me.”
“Not when I'm tired,” I groaned, burying my head in my pillow.
“You're no fun.”
“Then leave me at home next time.”
“Hey.” He grabbed my shoulder, pulling me around to face him. “What's wrong? Talk to me.”
Damn. Why did he know me so well? It was obvious I was in a pissy mood. There was no hiding it. This didn't feel like the right time to discuss our relationship though. If we argued, there was really nowhere for me to escape, and I'd feel bad if Dominick ended up sleeping on the serpentine sofa again, like I had ruined his business trip.
“You think Heather is pretty,” I said with a pout, trading in the real issue for something that was more easily settled.
“Of course I think she's pretty,” he replied, which only made me feel worse. Maybe this wasn't a better conversation to have after all. “Are you jealous?”
“You want her.”
“I want a lot of women I won't ever have, just as I'm sure you like a lot of men that you won't ever have. It's natural to be attracted to beautiful things.”
“What if she wanted you back?”
“She's married. I wouldn't go there.”
“It's funny how you don't factor me into the equation at all. And you wonder why you're not getting laid tonight.” I grabbed his pillow and threw it at him, overwhelmed by anger and jealousy and a dozen other raw negative emotions I couldn't place. “Go sleep on the couch.”
He furrowed his brow at me and reached out a hand to rub my back, which I quickly slapped away. My harsh actions made him recoil, and he took hold of his pillow before standing up and turning to me.
“If you have issues with me finding other women attractive, then I suppose it's good we sleep in separate rooms at home. My sofa isn't particularly comfortable,” he sighed. “You have a lot to learn about men and relationships, Kimlet.”
“Go away,” I grumbled into my pillow and then listened to his footsteps retreating out of the room.
Then I cried. Cried and cried and cried as quietly as possible into the pillow. I had done exactly what I told myself I wouldn't do. Even worse, I had turned a wonderful vacation into a nightmare. No. Not me. He had done it with his thoughtless comments. Of course, I didn't want him looking at other women. That was only natural. Or, if he was going to do it, I didn't want him to admit it to me. But, I supposed it didn't matter anyway since I was just a family friend. Sure, we fucked, but there was no title to our relationship. How could he make me feel so low? In the matter of one afternoon, I had been reduced from lover to booty call, and apparently he was still on the lookout for something better.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The plane ride home was tense, from my perspective at least. Dominick acted like nothing had happened between us. He was good at that. It was one thing about him that I absolutely hated. If I didn't know him better, I'd think he didn't care about my feelings at all.
When we got home, we went our separate ways. He holed himself up in his office to write, and I got on my computer to Skype with my friends about how the vacation had gone. Victor was incredibly sympathetic—too sympathetic—flirtingly sympathetic, and I found myself fantasizing about what it would be like to date someone my own age, or at least someone not as rude and careless as Dominick. I had promised myself I would help him learn to love again, but he made it difficult when he said and did things like this.
When he sent me the latest chunk of manuscript to proofread and comment on, I was torn between whether or not to read it or put it off for another day that I didn't feel so emotionally battered. Absentmindedly, I scrolled through the few pages he had written. There was no mention of another woman. He had omitted my embarrassing elevator scene, but the window sex scene was still there. All of his emotions were love and desire. As he had told me though, the things he wrote were fantasy, and I was beginning to wonder if his feelings were a fantasy as well. So much of what he wrote had never happened. He manipulated the thoughts and feeling of others, bending them to his liking to fit the plot of his stories. He omitted the fights and the misery. It was fiction.
I closed my laptop and laid down in bed, staring up at the ceiling and wondering if I had gotten it all wrong. Perhaps what I had been reading wasn't his real thoughts and feelings. Maybe it was all just a story I had fallen into, wanting to make myself a part of it, wanting to believe that the things written within were true. What if he didn't really love me?
My tear ducts felt dry from all the crying I had done the previous night, but I still managed to squeeze out a tear or two, though there was no uncontrollable sobbing to go with it, which I was thankful for. Negativity stabbed at my brain, filling it with miserable what-ifs. What if I was fooling myself? What if I had made our relationship out to be something that it wasn't? What if I really was just a cheap substitute for my sister? It would make sense that he wouldn't introduce me as his girlfriend if that were the case.
The night prayed upon my emotions, draining me of energy and feeling until there was nothing left. I lay there in the darkness, wishing I was home, wishing I hadn't moved to Arizona, wishing Dominick was in some other state, and that I had never replaced my sweet memories of him with hard cold reality. Who was I kidding? He was out of my league. I was young and inexperienced and nowhere near as attractive as my sister or Heather or half the other women in the world he had a shot with. I was just easy access to sex.
Sleep did little to lighten my mood. I stayed in my room, only emerging to cook breakfast and leave for school. Dominick and I had been through this routine before. Soon, he would realize something was wrong and approach me to talk about it. Either that, or he'd be fine with me avoiding him. I scowled at the thought.
“You didn't report back about my story last night,” he said to me on the way to school.
“It was fine. It's always fine,” I grumbled.
Dominick looked at me with only the slightest hint of concern. Or was it offense? “If you don't want to read it anymore, you don't have to.”
“It's fine. I don't mind reading it.”
“Alright. Just let me know. You were the one who wanted to read it. I don't want you to feel obligated to continue.”
I didn't respond but simply sat there with my hands crossed over my chest, looking forward to getting out of the car and away from him.
School was boring as usual. At lunch, Carmen asked me a bunch of questions about my vacation, making it the topic of discussion for the hour. Victor seemed less interested, as he usually did when Dominick's name entered the conversation. While he didn't oppose of my relationship with Dominick, he didn't seem to support it either. I could only assume that was because he liked me. He had never come out and said it, but he had hinted at it enough.
After lunch, when Victor and I were walking to class together, he pulled me aside to talk. Just the feel of his hand wrapping around my arm made me blush. That brief contact was all it took to set my mind alight with impure thoughts.
“Hey, I was wondering if you wanted to go to the fair with me this weekend? Just as friends, you know,” he said.
“That would be fun,” I replied.
“That's probably a good idea.”
“Alright. Well, I'll talk to you later.” He waved at me before hurrying on to his class.
Now it was just a question of how to approach Dominick on the subject. The last time Victor and I had tried to go out together, it was a disaster. A last minute text was no good. This was better handled face to face.
After school, I stepped inside the Maserati, feeling the tension between Dominick and I as soon as my ass hit the seat. Of course, I was probably the only one who was feeling it. Dominick acted the same as always.
“I'm going out on Friday,” I told him matter-of-factually as we pulled out of the parking lot.
“With who?”
“With Carmen,” I lied, curious if it would make a difference.
“Make sure to be home by ten.”
And that was the end of it. We drove home, I cooked dinner and then retreated to my room, avoiding him. Life went on in the same twisted way it had the first time I got mad and decided I wanted to move out.
The days rolled on to Friday, and I couldn't wait for my date with Victor. Well, he hadn't called it a date, but I still considered it to be one. If not for Dominick, it would have been a date, and Dominick seemed to be fading out of the picture with every passing day.
Whatever was going on between us, it was far from a relationship. There was no communication. Not the kind needed to hold a successful relationship together. He never apologized for the things he said or did, and he didn't come after me when I was in a bad mood. That's how a real relationship would have worked. If he truly loved me, he would have been going above and beyond to make everything right again. Instead, he ignored our problems like they didn't exist. Besides, I was just a family friend to him, which meant that I was free to date other people. On the painful flip side, so was he, but he never left the condo to make me worry about it. In the time that I had been staying with him, I had learned that he was very dedicated to work, and there were few people in his life besides me. Only his editor and publicist, neither of which I had ever met.
Victor and I hooked up in the hallway after class. Inside, I was jumping up and down with excitement. If he was feeling anything like I was, he hid it well. He kind of reminded me of Dominick in how he carried himself, just a more relaxed version. His posture and articulation were near perfect, and he dressed preppy and expensively, but he was less stiff and had a much friendlier disposition.
“Dominick's not the only one who has a nice car,” he said, clicking the automatic door locks on a black BMW M6.
“Wow, that is a nice car,” I replied, trying to look more shocked than I actually felt.
“Almost up there with the Maserati, but not quite.” Victor opened the passenger door for me, and I smirked, thinking about how much of a gentleman he was being.
“I don't remember seeing this car in the parking lot before, not that I ever really go out into the parking lot.”
“You haven't. It's my father's. I brought it to impress you.” He grinned at me before walking around to step into the driver's side, and I couldn't help but laugh.
“Your parents must be well off.”
“They are. My father is a surgeon, and my mother is a pediatrician.”
“I'm surprised you're not going to school to be a doctor then.”
“The healthcare industry has never interested me.”
We drove to the fair, making awkward idle conversation along the way. I wasn't sure if it was my nerves getting the best of me, but I couldn't really think of things to say to him. At the fair, he continued the gentleman act, paying for everything and talking and joking like a friend. Eventually, I relaxed a bit, though I quickly began to wonder if he had decided to hold true on the just friends thing. If he was attracted to me, it certainly wasn't showing. I suppose I should have been fine with that, maybe even happy that he wasn't going to hit on me and further complicate my life, but in truth, I was a bit disappointed.
We walked around the fairgrounds, played a few games, and did a bit of browsing at the arts and crafts booths. Victor feigned interest at several of the booths, perhaps for conversation's sake. I couldn't imagine someone like him getting excited about little knickknacks that people put together in their spare time. When the excitement of walking around was over, we got tacos and lemonade from one of the food stands, found a shady spot to eat, and then headed to the car.
The ride back to Dominick's condo was awkwardly quiet. Apparently, the silence started getting to Victor too because he turned on the radio. To my surprise, the station was set to classical. Victor made no apology or comment as to why, not that I thought he should apologize for liking classical music. I just thought it was strange that his taste was so refined. Then again, perhaps it was like the car. Maybe the station had been preset by his father, and he didn't want to change it. Or perhaps he was just trying to impress me.
When we parked in front of the condo, I noticed that the curtains of the living room window were pulled open. Dominick always kept them closed, though I never asked why. I had assumed it was to protect his privacy.
From where we were parked, I could see straight into the living room. Dominick was sitting on the loveseat with his ereader. He glanced up at the headlights peering inside, and my heart dropped as I saw him scowl towards the car. He had seen Victor. I had been caught in a lie.
I glanced over at Victor, who was looking in at Dominick. The two seemed to stare at each other for a moment, and then Victor suddenly leaned over and pulled me into his arms. The hug caught me completely off guard. By the time I realized what was happening, Dominick was coming out of the front door. Almost the second Victor released me, the cool night air rushed into the car from Dominick opening my car door.
“Mr. Parker,” Victor said, leaning across my seat with a grin. There was a strange twinkle in his hazel eyes, making him look almost smug.
“Mr. Stagnoli,” Dominick replied stiffly. I could see the muscles in his jaws tense, and I knew that I should probably exit the vehicle as quickly as possible before shit hit the fan.
“I'll see you on Monday,” I told Victor politely, climbing out of the car and giving him an awkward wave before I pulled the door out of Dominick's hand and closed it. Everything in me wanted him to drive away as soon as possible, but he simply sat there, parked, watching us without shame.
“You lied to me,” Dominick growled.
“Can we go inside?” I begged. “He's watching us.”
Dominick cast a hateful glance at the car before leading the way to the condo.
I sighed in relief when we stepped inside, taking long strides to the curtains to draw them shut. Victor was still parked there, staring into the window. It wasn't until the curtains were closed that I heard him turn on the engine and pull out of the driveway.
“I'm so sick of you embarrassing me,” I nearly yelled, turning around just in time to feel Dominick pull me into his arms and press his lips firmly against mine. The kiss was desperate, too desperate, and it only fueled my anger.
As soon as I was able to pull away, I raised my hand to strike him. It was like all the emotion inside of me had finally boiled to the point of explosion, tossing rational thought to the wind. But then the second before my hand reached his face, reality returned to me. My arm stilled, and I stood there, breathless and shocked at my own actions. I had almost hit him. I was actually going to hit him.
Dominick didn't look fazed at all. If anything, he seemed more impassioned. His eyes burned down into mine, hooded with lust. He didn't even seem to notice my hand lingering dangerously close to his face.
“Do it,” he said. “I know you want to.”
It was all the invitation that I needed to let the last bubble of anger burst and send my palm across his face. The blow was so hard that my hand throbbed. I grabbed my wrist, staring at it in disbelief. When I looked back up at Dominick, his face was turned away from me, though there was no hand
print where I had struck him.
“Are you done, now?” he asked.
“Ugh. I hate you.” I stomped off towards my room, only to be caught by my wrist and spun back around. He tried to pull me to him, but I struggled. “Dominick, stop. Let me go. I'm going to kick you in the nuts. I swear to God, I'll do it.”
For all of my threats though, he didn't let me go, and I didn't move to hurt him again. He wrapped his arms around my waist, dragging me to the floor. I turned and tried to crawl away, but he pulled me back beneath him, turning me around and pinning my wrists above my head. I loathed how much stronger than me that he was. Everything in me wanted to cry out rape, not out of fear that he'd actually do it, but out of anger. He took that choice away from me though when he silenced my mouth with another kiss. His lips pressed hard against mine, almost painfully so. I opened my mouth and bit his bottom lip, not enough to draw blood, but enough to show him I meant business. I could feel his body tense on top of mine, and he pulled away slowly, though I refused to let go. However, when he looked down on me, his gray eyes weren't filled with pain, but something far deeper.
One of his hands reached up my shirt, his fingers kneading into my breast and pinching my nipple. The fire that shot straight to my nether region made me gasp. He took the opportunity to pull his lip out of my grasp, though his mouth soon returned to mine, his tongue seeking entry, claiming space. I knew I was lost then. Anger faded to lust. His rough touch was winning me over, and all I could think about was having him inside of me. I hated him for it. Hated him as he undressed me. Hated myself as I undressed him. And when he penetrated me, I hated us both for feeling so good together.
We rutted on the carpet like sex-starved animals. The condo was alive with the sounds of skin slapping together, cries of lust, and heavy breathing. All that I could see and think and feel was sweat and sex and need. I needed Dominick, needed him to want me, needed this closeness to him. I needed him to assert his dominance over me, to show me that I belonged to him. But most of all, I needed to feel like we weren't drifting apart, and this was just what it took to draw me back again, his sexual manipulation.