The Dom Games

by Rachel Robinson

  “Wow, how about that, folks. Dominic Reed is officially off the market. Did you hear that? He is in love. Love!” Gage exclaims. Opening his arms wide, he begins reading his prompter, but my heart is pounding. Kayla leans over, pulls my face to hers, and she kisses me. I smell her perfume, taste the gloss on her lips, and I know I’m where I’m supposed to be. With her. No matter the circumstances.

  I hear the cameras. They aren’t merely background noise. They are intruders. “And she loves him too, Dom fans,” Gage says. “Kayla. When you’re finished with his lips I need to ask him more questions.” When she pulls away, she whispers, “I love you.”

  The fear eating me eases a touch. Millions will see her tell me she loves me. I turn toward Gage. “What’s the next question?” I’m ready.

  “Sweetpinkcheeks wants to know what it feels like to do a punishment scene.” I forgot about this one. I’m not ready. “She’s a submissive and she wants to know what a Dom feels because she knows what it feels like as a submissive. Give us a Dominants point of view, please.”

  Sighing, I release her hand. I have to be the other man now. “The cameras disappear as soon as the adrenaline takes over. It’s just me and the sub and whatever tool I decide to use. It’s not about anger, although that does play a small part of it. The feeling of teaching a lesson is what’s exciting.” I feel Kayla shirk away from me. It’s a small movement that the cameras won’t see, but I sense. “Sometimes I want it more than I should, other times it’s a precursor for sex, and other times I’d rather not punish, but rule breaking forces my hand. Literally and figuratively.” I pause. Folding my hands in my lap, I consider how much more should be said—enough to appease the audience, but not too much as to upset Kayla.

  “What is it like? It’s heaven and hell at the same time. It’s emotionally draining and fulfilling.” I reach for Kayla’s hand. It’s shaking. I don’t dare glance her way. “For me, now, I can take it or leave it. I’m lucky. Some can’t escape those desires. It’s more than a hobby, or a sexual preference for some Doms. Remember that.”

  The host takes over, and the hot lights dim above us. Kayla sucks in a deep breath. I do the same. Still not willing to see what she looks like, I wrap my hand around her shoulders. I have little experience in comforting a woman. It’s an odd realization. Never worrying about another’s feelings is far easier. With her, all I do is worry about her emotions and feelings. I want to fulfill her every need and desire.

  Growing up with brothers made emotions and feelings almost non-existent. When I entered my teenaged years and realized I liked things a little rougher than my peers, I sought women older than me. There’s never any concern when a contract is involved. You know the limits—what they can handle, what I want. Aside from brief aftercare to talk about how they feel about the scene, there wasn’t anything else. There was no consoling when an old pet cat finally died, or comforting after a bad day. This is new. It presents itself as a new challenge I need to conquer to tighten our bond.

  “I’m sorry. On a scale of one to ten, how horrible was that for you?” I whisper. The lights go off completely, and a spotlight above our heads flicks on. Laurel must have orchestrated that after Kayla wanted the furniture moved. It’s shining directly above us.

  She turns toward me. “Nothing I can’t handle. It’s a zero. Kiss me. Right now…Sir.” Kayla smiles, exposing her white teeth. The lights above us shadow areas on her face, and I wonder if this is how I looked to her during filming.

  I can’t resist the joke. My little Dom. “Yes, ma’am,” I reply, leaning into her. The camera pans in front of us. Scooting closer and then into my lap, she deepens the kiss, tangling her hands in my hair. She plays with my ears, something I love, and a shiver shoots up my spine. I want to take this elsewhere immediately. I’m hyper aware of our mics and the noises they are picking up.

  Gage’s speech dies down. He asks if there’s any more questions as he checks his large tablet for any comments on our website.

  Breaking the kiss, but keeping my forehead against hers, I say, “I have a question for Kayla.”

  The host, who isn’t surprised by anything, doesn’t miss a beat. The cameras don’t either. There are two filming and ready mere seconds after I spoke. “Mr. Reed has a question. Let’s hear it.” It’s easier than it should be. I’m on camera. She has no idea. No one does.

  I rise from the plush velvet and stand in front of her. The spotlights above us move to reflect my movement. I kneel down in front of her. Taking the hand that isn’t covering her mouth, I press a kiss on the top of her knuckles gently. I take out the box. It has been burning a fucking hole in my jacket pocket for hours, and in my possession for weeks. “Will you marry me?” I’m aware that people are gasping and scrambling behind me, but I’m only focused on her face—the look of sheer shock.

  “Will you marry me, Kayla? I wasn’t planning on doing this,” I say. Swallowing deeply, I amend, “I mean, I was planning on asking you to marry me, but wasn’t planning on doing it now. On camera. Our relationship started here, so why not begin our permanent connection here. I want the world to know how much I love you—how much you mean to me.” Kayla hasn’t even so much as glanced at the open ring box. Her gaze is fixated on my face. Her small, cool hand shakes in my grasp.

  “Are you serious?” she finally says. Her voice is small, unsure, and I second-guess asking her on camera. I envision all those blooper videos when men ask women on jumbotrons at baseball games, or form elaborate engagement plans and turn into viral engagement fail videos instead. “You want to marry me? This isn’t for the show?”

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. This was a mistake. I want to rip our mics off and flee from these cameras, find the closest empty, quiet room and do this over. “I want you to be mine forever, Kayla. I love you. Every part, piece—every single hair on your head. Please. Say yes. Be my bride. I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life. Will you have me?”

  She wipes under her eyes to catch stray tears and finally looks down at the sparkling ring. “Have you? Of course I’ll have you, Dominic. I love you. I’ll marry you. Every piece. Every part. Every single moment from the second I laid eyes on you, I’ve wanted you to be all mine.” She sobs. Slipping the ring from the box, I slide the cushion cut bauble on her finger. It feels odd, so permanent compared to any other piece of jewelry I’ve bought. Like I’m handcuffing her finger to my heart—my soul connecting to hers. The feeling exactly what I never knew I wanted.

  “I can’t believe this is happening right now,” she whispers. “We’re engaged.” She leans over and throws her arms around my neck and wraps me in a hug. Finally, I’m able to take a deep breath. She said yes. I thought I wanted a forever submissive. Turns out I wanted Kayla forever.

  “The world knows how much I love you, Kayla.” I didn’t want it to seem ostentatious. This is us closing the chapter together. The lights dim and fade to black. The Dom Games music plays one final time. I wince, but Kayla doesn’t even flinch.

  She pulls away, kneels down in front of me so we’re nose to nose, and kisses me on the lips. “I don’t hate that song so much now,” she says, her lips moving against mine. Her breath mixes with my own and it’s intoxicating. She’s mine. The only woman I’ve ever wanted agreed to be mine forever. I’m on top of the world. “Now it represents you loving me more than your past.”

  I sigh. “I do. Fuck, do I ever.” Cameras cut, and the crew claps and cheers so loudly that I’m reminded that we’re not alone. “Thank you for making me the happiest man alive, darling. I promise you won’t regret it.”

  She shakes her head, her nose brushing mine. “Thank you for accepting me as I am. I know how difficult I can be. I can’t regret anything. It led us to this.” She cries and laughs at the same time. “We’re getting married!” I help her stand and then I pick her up, her legs automatically wrapping around my waist.

  “I asked your parents for permission. And your brother. Months ago. Just so you know, everything is in the clear
. It took a little convincing, because they love you so much, but I won them over.” I know that will be her next question. On the off chance an on camera engagement were to happen, I knew I needed to be thorough in my planning.

  Her parents were highly skeptical. Her brother wouldn’t look me in the eye for six whole hours. When I finally convinced them I wasn’t going to chain their precious family member in a dungeon and piss down her throat, because that’s honestly what her mother thought BDSM was, they slowly warmed up to me. I promised to take care of her as much as she’d let me. Basically a contract would have come in handy when dealing with Mr. and Mrs. Parchet. They wanted her to finish school and pursue any dream she wanted. They didn’t want a man to stop her from obtaining something she’s always wanted. I understand that completely, and explained I would never hold her back in any way.

  “They approve. Everyone is coming around regardless of how our love began,” I say, nuzzling close to her ear.

  Kayla thanks me for being so thoughtful and considerate, peppers me with kisses, and then asks if we can go back to the Dom’s lair. I’ve never been more happy and satiated. I’ve never felt like a true man until this moment.

  This is the year that The Dom Games played Dom.

  And he still won.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Reality Show Reality”

  Kayla

  After the camera lights fade and the paparazzi retreat back into their dirty holes, life goes on as per usual. Well, as usual as it can be for the wife of a has-been-Dominant billionaire who accepted a proposal and the Hope diamond on television sets across the America. I have to admit, the footage of the proposal was beautiful. I’m glad we have it in high definition to watch any time we want. The shadows, the whispers between us, his smile and happiness, they’re all things I don’t want to fade into reality TV past.

  At first, when he asked if I would marry him, I didn’t think I heard right. There was no way he would do that to me with cameras trained on my face. It was significant, though, almost like an apology for the photo shoot scene when I left. The world should see both sides of the coin. The man who cares about nothing juxtaposed to the man who cares about only one thing. It was poignant—the moment was very us. Also, I’m glad all the naysayers have something to shove in their pipes and smoke. We made it. We’re still making it.

  I’m in love with love. It’s funny how everything you once thought held so much importance shifts once you prioritize your life and make new decisions. I finished my degree at Harvard, but I don’t have the career I formerly dreamed of. I’m not barefoot and pregnant. No. My focus changed, my goals have not. I run a new branch of Reed Studios. I’m working on a new television show for our network. The Dom Games filming studio is a little much for my weak stomach. Maybe one day I’ll be able to work over there. In the meantime, Dominic lets the producers run everything. We found that works out best. He’s been concentrating on developing new shows as well. Something a little more family friendly to balance out the…sex.

  Dominic and I found out quickly that we couldn’t work together well, but separately we could pretty much take over the goddamn world. It’s a superb dynamic. Dominic has more experience with the business aspect, so I turn to him for guidance, and sometimes he needs a woman’s keen eye and soft opinion. Usually I’m about as soft as a freight train, but I’m learning, cultivating the right balance of sic ‘em and understanding.

  Security is required any time I leave our home in Southern California, but I don’t look at it as an inconvenience anymore. It’s part of my life. It’s really a small price to pay for Dominic Reed’s love. And that man’s love is worth its weight in solid gold. Sometimes I spot a lone car with a telescopic lens hanging out of the passenger side window outside of our front gates. Dominic will go and talk to them, or give them money, I’m not too sure, and returns beaming as if he’s performed his husbandly duties. I guess when you have hired help to take care of most everything else, it’s his way of contributing to mundane daily life.

  I think he’s spent every waking moment since the show wrapped honing his husband skills. We got married mere months after he asked me. The wedding came together so quickly and beautifully that it was almost too smooth for my liking. It’s the money. Something else I’m still adjusting to. It smoothens everything—forces things to happen when you want them.

  We exchanged handwritten vows under the enormous bur oak tree that plagues his nightmares. It was a cool spring day in Colorado, the breeze just enough to blow my hair wild. Sweet smelling jasmine climbed the exquisite hand carved arch we stood under, but more than anything, it was Dominic Reed staring back at me—promising forever and eternity. He helped me choose my modest flowing ivory wedding gown, and I requested he not wear a suit. His suits remind me of too much.

  While our wedding was simple in design, it was large and expensive. Betsy Reed bustled around in a neon pink dress and Derby day hat. It had a zebra figurine and more peacock feathers than a live peacock owned. I’ve never seen her happier or more in her element. She was the sole reason my family and friends felt at home at the ostentatious estate. Franklin kept his distance, sticking to his friends, colleagues, and partners. I try not to hold grudges, but I know I’ll never trust that man. Dominic won’t either. I’d like to see Betsy drop him like a bad habit, but she wouldn’t be the type of person she is if not for her forgiveness and poise. She was built to hold her family together. What’s left of it.

  Caleb and Aaron are slowly but surely working their way into my good graces. It bothers Dom that they see me as a contestant on his show. That’s what I was. The show never defined me or portrayed me in a true light. I have to remind him of that when his jealousy rears, because like any red-blooded alpha male, he wants me all to himself. He’s already shared me with America. No amount of money in the world can change that. I’m not embarrassed by it anymore. How can I be? Knowing how our story ends? You make choices and then you work through the consequences. There are far worse fates than ours.

  The Dom Games went international after Dominic’s season aired, so all of the reruns are hitting overseas and it’s the single most watched show in the history of television. When that news arrived, I remember thinking I’ve never seen Dominic so happy. Then we got married, and his happiness outshines the sun.

  Speaking of happiness, my cell chimes—his personal ringtone.

  Lunch at my place or yours? The text reads.

  Leaning back in my chair, I prop my feet up on my desk. I text back. My desk is bigger. And send a photo of my bare feet. The monstrous bouquet of flowers he sent for my birthday is in the background. There are sprigs of rosemary that scent my office beautifully. I inhale deeply and sigh.

  His reply is immediate, the gray bubble letting me know he’s typing. What the birthday girl wants, the birthday girl gets. I’m bringing your present.

  Covering my mouth, I giggle. Then send, I don’t want it wrapped. Just so you know.

  One side of my French doors opens, and Dominic pushes in. “I already wrapped it. Sorry,” he says. The dimple on his chin pops as his smile deepens.

  “An actual present. I see,” I reply. Pressing my lips in a line, I raise one brow. “You got here pretty fast. Did you run?” His branch of the studio is a good distance away. “Tim timed it one time and said he could run to this building in seven minutes. You guys should compare times.” Tim manages the entire production crew now, and he’s still my best friend. A fact Dominic wasn’t fond of until Tim married his girlfriend and was no longer deemed a threat.

  “I could cut his time in half,” he says, rolling his eyes. “I started heading here before I texted you. I took the monster cart. I couldn’t wait to give you this.” The monster carts from his estate in Colorado made their way here. He hands me a beautifully wrapped box. Gold and black lace wrapping and it looks to be the size of a shoebox. That’s enough to send my heart aflutter. I’ll never get used to my shoe closet at home. It’s a modern day marvel resembling a
shoe lover’s museum. I can go in there and admire my collection. Adding to that room always makes me happy. He knows it.

  Sighing, I place the package on my desk and approach him slowly. The sleeves of his button-down shirt are rolled up his forearms. I stroke the exposed skin, touch his muscles. Dominic pulls me to him and captures my lips with his. Gently, with my eyes still closed, I pull away. “I was really hoping for the other unwrapped gift. Can I have that first?”

  I catch the scent of his cologne in the air and my mouth waters. “Mrs. Reed. Fucking at work is never a good idea,” he says, pinning me with his gaze. “Unless it’s in your job description. Is it?” He used the word fucking. I think I just had an orgasm spontaneously.

  I turn my eyes down, playing at bashful. “Once upon a time, it was my job to fuck this man. He was at work. It is my birthday today. Maybe we can work out a deal.” I have him free of his pants in the next few seconds. He goes to say something, but I hold my pointer finger over his lips. “Wait here.” I lock my office door and make a quick call to my assistant to hold my calls for the next hour. I never break eye contact with him. “I’m out to lunch,” I say. “Officially.”

  “Darling, I knew you were out to lunch the second I saw you. That’s why I love you so much.” He laughs, but it’s a deep, throaty noise. His right hand is working his cock up and down. I want him inside me desperately. I crave the connection because he is so magnificent. Not just in looks, but in heart and soul. He’s good down to his bones. I tell him to take his shirt off as I clear the wooden coffee table in my meeting area.

  Crooking my finger, I summon him. Unbuttoning my shirtdress, it falls to the floor and pools around my feet. The lingerie underneath was chosen carefully this morning. It’s all black because that’s still his favorite color, but it’s also leather. I sit down on the cool table and spread my legs so he can see the crotchless panties—moreover, my wet core. “It’s not my birthday, is it? I thought it was yours.” He whistles loudly, stalking toward me.