A Dominant Salvation (A Dominant Series Book 3)

by Lena Black

  “What can I do for you?”

  “I’d like to discuss something with you.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Past Master

  The four days following our lunch together were agony. I kept thinking about her, wondering what she was doing, where she was, if she was doing the same. I gave her space and myself time to figure out if she was really something I wanted to pursue. By Thursday, I knew I wanted her, damn the consequences.

  I knew she was furious with me, so I sent her a ridiculous token of my regret, an enormous bouquet of white lilies, her favorite. I remembered her mother mentioning it during one of my dinners with the Hydes. Elizabeth was much more forthcoming with information about her daughter than her husband. He preferred to keep me at a distance personally. He’d kept her away from me on purpose. He was right to do so. The first chance I got, I took it.

  When she called me later that day to thank/berate me, I was extremely pleased and turned on. That fight in her, it drove me fucking crazy. I hated being spoken to with anything less than respect. I was used to it. No one talked to me the way she did. And I couldn’t get enough.

  I told her I was going to New York for a business trip, and I’d contact her when my plans were more concrete. I called her early the Sunday before I arrived home, needing to hear her voice. I couldn’t admit it to myself then, but I was already lost without her.

  She’d eagerly and tiredly agreed to meet me for lunch the next day. I’d picked her up at the converted warehouse View was residing in at the time. We ended up back at her apartment with burgers from a local dive around the corner. Normally, I wouldn’t have gone, not until we’d established ourselves as Dom and sub. And they were never allowed at my penthouse. That was my personal, private place where I didn’t need to pander to anyone, a sanctuary to escape everyone and everything. But I didn’t see a problem with it since the whole point of our lunch was to establish guidelines. If we were going to do this, everything needed to be cut and dry, to reduce casualties.

  Clearly, I had no idea what I was getting myself into.

  “I want to propose you and I enter into a mutually exclusive sexual relationship.”

  Revulsion washed over her expression. She’d been expecting something more than what I offered. I was an asshole for ever thinking it was enough.

  “You want me to be your…fuck buddy?”

  “It’s not quite that simple, and I didn’t want to be crude, but yes.”

  “Why would…why would you ask me,” she stuttered with hurt and anger. “I’m not looking for a relationship of that nature. You are crude for bringing it up in such an uncouth manner. No intimacy.”

  “I’m not interested in intimacy, more like fucking you till we both collapse into a sweaty heap.”

  Plainly turned on, her breathing hastened, rushing in and out from between her plush pink lips, and my cock stiffened. It was hard enough not throwing her onto the table and screwing her senseless right there, without talking about it. I had to use every ounce of control I possessed.

  “I didn’t expect a grand gesture,” she snaps, “but I certainly wasn’t expecting this, either.” She sat back in her chair and retreated into her head, her thoughts played out across her face. Realization furrowed her brows. “You only held my hand to ward off other men, to let them know I’m not available. I am not fucking property, Damian. I’m a damn human being with feelings and emotional needs. I’m not a fuck machine!”

  She was right. Earlier, I had held her hand to let other men know she was mine. Even if she hadn’t agreed yet, she was. She wanted me to some degree. Why else would she have put up with everything I’d done thus far?

  “I’ve never met anyone like you before,” I admitted, realizing honesty was my last defense. “No one speaks to me the way you do. On the street, when you clutched my hand and led me down the sidewalk, I wouldn’t have allowed any other woman to do that. Yes, I was staking my claim. I won’t deny it. However, I was also trying to get near you. You do things to me, Gabrielle.” I hesitated and shut my eyes, feeling vulnerable for the first time in years. “I don’t do intimate because I don’t know how.”

  After a brief silence, she asked, “Why haven’t you kissed me yet?”

  My gaze jumps to hers. I yearned to kiss her, from the first time I saw her, have my mouth and hands all over her. “If I kiss you, I won’t be able to stop myself from taking it further. I want to fuck you, Gabrielle, the way you need it, I need it. I don’t want to rush. I want to take my time to explore and savor you.”

  “Oh? What makes you think I would let you?”

  It was a challenge. And I gladly accepted.

  “Angel, I would do everything in my power to make you beg for my cock. I’ll make you hungry for me.”

  “I can’t just fuck,” she confessed. “I need possibilities, to know more than your name and financial status. In addition, you’re my boss, which makes boning you kind of complicated.”

  I had to admit, the idea was arousing.

  She started firing off questions like bullets from a gun, aimed right at me. Dead man walking.

  “Gabrielle, you have to slow down. Please, one question at a time.”

  She asked me why I hadn’t told her my name. I had her check her phone, where I’d typed it in with my number.

  “You’re peculiar,” she blurted, her eyes bursting wide open.

  “I knew you were a smart girl.”

  She attempted to apologize and retract her statement, but I stopped her. It was out there and the truth.

  “I am peculiar,” I agreed, “more than you know.”

  “There’s a lot I don’t know about you.”

  She had no idea how correct she was. Or how terrified I was to show her.

  She continued her interrogation until our time was up. I had to get her back to the office. We gathered our things and headed toward the front door. But I noticed she seemed upset by something. Normal, considering the conversation we’d had. I was used to this discussion going much differently. The women I bedded were aware of my desires, my way of life. But Gabrielle wasn’t like other women. And she knew nothing of my world.

  “What’s the matter, Gabrielle?” I asked.

  “You haven’t kissed me yet.”

  The corners of her mouth turned down, and her bottom lip jutted out. Fuck, I wanted it. If I knew the exquisite way they feel then, it wouldn’t have taken me as long as it did.

  “Gabrielle, I…” my voices dropped away.

  Two reasons kept me at a distance, whose daughter she was, and the promise I’d made to him. I respected the hell out of him. He’s the reason I took the plunge, dropped out of college, and started my own business. He helped me become the man I am today, as broken as I am. He was more than a business partner, or a friend, or a mentor. He was a second (third) father to me. And the idea of letting him down killed me.

  “Fine, whatever,” she snapped and turned her back on me.

  I didn’t like it.

  She had the door open midway when I yanked her into me. Her body felt incredible against mine, the distinction of her soft mounds to my hard edges. Never given the opportunity without flashing club lights or gawking people around us, I studied her face and eyes undistractedly. Able to make out the smallest details, like the hidden streaks of violet in her tanzanite irises, all logic was shot to shit. And I let myself do something I hadn’t done in years…lose control.

  Fuck it.

  Before she knew what was happening, the door slammed closed, and I had her firmly pinned with my large body. Her breasts repeatedly swelled into my torso; her strained breaths flowing in and out of her lungs like the tide on the shore. I dragged in a final draw of air before my mouth covered hers, claiming it with abandon. I ground my cock into her, taking pleasure from her body anyway I could. She shoved her tiny hands into my hair. I moved mine to the back of her thigh and brought it to my hip. To my delight, her skirt crept up to the apex of her legs. When she released a sweet little whim
per into my mouth, my cock ached, the skin pulling taut over my shaft. My hand slinked under her bunched skirt, and she wrenched back into the door with a thud.

  “It’s okay, angel,” I consoled, my voice deepened by arousal. “I just want to see your garter. It’s fucking hot.”

  She liquefied in my hands, her body easing and opening to me, to the experience. It was the first time she was ever truly vulnerable with me, a gift I would come to cherish more than any I’d been given.

  My hand blindly sought the lace top of her stocking, her full thigh quivering beneath my touch. When I found it, I slid a finger between the silk and the pliable flesh, tracing the strap until they reached the garter.

  I pictured her, every thick, rounded inch of her body, naked and begging for me, so overwhelmed by need she couldn’t help but touch herself, her tiny fingers working furiously.

  “I want to see you in this, heels, and no panties,” I groaned, each passing second harder and harder to constrain myself.

  As if not meant for me, she whispered, “I’ll do it,” and tugged her skirt back over her bared legs.

  “You will?” I inquired, tightening my hold on her. “I don’t want you to feel you have to…”

  She placed a finger over my lips.

  “I want to make myself clear. I want you, but I want things to happen naturally. I will participate on one condition…Make an effort not to treat me as if I’m just something to get your tip wet. I’m not asking for happily ever after. I just need to be able to live with myself after this is over.”

  My brow tensed.

  “Over?” I repeated, testing the word in my mouth. It left a bitter aftertaste. Even though my intentions were clear, hearing the words from her mouth sounded wrong, very wrong. I knew it would end, assuming it would be my doing. I was playing with a loaded gun, and it was only a matter of time before it went off in my face.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Blew Christmas

  The weather grew colder and wetter as December crept on, so Hunt flies the family to Aspen for Christmas. From the designer shops to the five star restaurants to the exotic cars, Aspen is pure opulence covered in a blanket of white. Since Jules isn’t talking to me right now, Liam stayed behind to watch after her and Sloan, who wanted to stay in the city to spend Christmas with their families.

  By day, we ski and play in the snow while Elizabeth and Vivian shop at the expensive boutiques in town. Maya tried sneaking away with them, but Chase caught and convinced her to ride the slopes instead. At night, we gather in the living room of Hunt’s (our) palatial ten-bedroom cabin and watch the snow fall outside the great big wall of glass, which has a magnificent view of the powder covered valley.

  Christmas Eve, the doorbell rings as we’re sitting down for dinner, amplified by the spaciousness of the cabin’s rooms. Hunt rises from his place at the head of the table and walks out to the entryway. From where the table is set, no one can see who’s at the door. When Hunt reenters the dining room, Caleb isn’t far behind. He stands in the doorway, a suitcase in hand.

  “Caleb.” I rise from my place beside Hunt’s seat and welcome him with a warm hug. In the months since the wedding, we’ve taken the time to become acquainted with one another in a more personal way. Maya on the other hand…

  “What is he doing here?” she asks, jumping from her seat.

  “Maya,” my mother says with a scolding tone.

  Even though she forgave our mother for keeping the secret for so long, she’s had a hard time adjusting to the idea of Caleb being our biological father.

  “I invited him,” Hunt says, taking his seat at the head of the table.

  “How could you?”

  “Maya, he’s our father. He should be with us on Christmas.”

  “First off, he is not our father. Second, you knew about this, Ellie? You know how I feel about him.”

  “Yes, but I thought…”

  “You thought wrong,” she snaps and stomps from the dining room.

  “I should go talk to her,” I suggest.

  “No,” Chase rises from his chair and sets his cloth napkin on the table, “I’ll go.”

  “I think that’s smart,” Elizabeth agrees. “She’ll listen to you, Chase.”

  “Maybe this was a bad idea. I ruined your holiday. I’ll leave,” Caleb says, turning toward the hallway, but I stop him.

  “Or you head upstairs to unpack while I make you a nice stiff drink.”

  “I really think…”

  “We insist you stay,” Hunt assures him. “Your room is on the second floor, third door on the right.”

  Caleb nods, his thin lips tucked over his teeth in a modest smile, and then takes his leave.

  Maya doesn’t come down from her room again. Chase tried to reason with her, but it was pointless. Maya and I aren’t alike in many respects, but we sure know how to hold a grudge.

  Once everyone has retired for the evening, Hunt included, I throw on a jacket and boots and head out to the deck with a glass of vodka in hand. I lean over the railing, watching the snow falling through the night air and the faint flicker of town in the near distance.

  “You should be inside,” a warm male voice says from behind me. “It’s freezing out here.”

  Without turning, I lift my glass of liquor.

  “This is keeping me plenty warm,” I remark as Caleb appears beside me, resting his elbows on the railing.

  “I’m sorry about the upheaval my presence caused. I wouldn’t have come if I’d known it was going to hurt Maya.”

  I hand him the glass, offering him a sip. He obliges.

  “I love my sister, but she has to understand I want you in my life. I want to know you. And that means you’re a part of this family. You belong here with us.”

  He releases a long breath, visible in the freezing night air.

  “But she deserves time to acclimate to me.”

  “And she will.” He hands the glass back to me, and I take a draw. “I know my sister. Besides, it’s hard to acclimate to something if you refuse to expose yourself to it.”

  “You remind me a lot of my mother,” he comments, staring off into the dark with a reflective haze over his eyes.

  “I do?”

  “She was strong-willed and sharp as a knife. Beautiful too. She showed me photos of her days as a chorus girl in New York nightclubs. You look like her actually.”

  I’ve always wondered where I got my looks and my personality. Neither of my parents have/had my fire, my pigheaded tendencies. They raised me to be far more level headed and mild in temper. But it never stuck. I thought I got my blue eyes from Marshall, but clearly that wasn’t the case. I have Caleb’s eyes. It makes sense I’d take after my biological father’s mother since daughters tend to.

  “You said was. You never told me your mother passed away. When?”

  “A few years back.” His face falls. “I was always sorry you two never met. She would’ve loved you.”

  “I’m sure I would’ve loved her too. Actually, that reminds me. I was wondering if you have a record of your family’s medical history.”

  “What for?”

  “I recently went to the doctor, and she asked about it.”

  “Is everything alright?”

  “Yeah, it was a routine physical for insurance purposes. But she mentioned since my parents had a difficult time becoming pregnant, it may or may not affect my chances. She just wanted to cover all the bases.”

  “Anything you need,” he says, his voice so soft and warm I could wrap myself in it. Maybe it’s all new, but there’s a comfort in knowing the truth about his role in my life. It also blurred lines.

  “There is one other thing you could do for me.”

  “Of course.”

  “Now that everything is out in the open,” I take in an icy breath, chilling my throat and lungs, “I want you to quit working for my mother. I’ve given it a lot of thought, and it isn’t right. The situation is complicated enough without you chauffeuring Elizabe
th around.”

  He stares out into the snowy darkness. The perfect quiet of the night making his silence all the more deafening.

  “I love what I do,” he says, returning his kindly blue gaze to mine, “but if that’s what you need, I’ll search for a replacement as soon as we get back.”

  “Thank you.” I set the unfinished glass of vodka on the railing and turn to walk back inside. Before I do, I place my hand on his shoulder. “And Maya will come around eventually.”

  Without a word, he reaches his hand across his chest and rests it over mine.

  Once I’m back in the warmth of the cabin, I take off my jacket and boots. Since dinner was ruined, I’m starved, and there’s plenty of leftovers in the fridge in the kitchen. I open the swinging door and find Maya at the center island with the contents of dinner spread out across the counter and a bright pool of light around her.

  “I guess causing a scene can work up quite an appetite,” I remark as I walk over to the counter.

  “Don’t give me your shit, sissy. I’m not in the mood.”

  I grab a knife and fresh roll and slice it in half, spreading mayo and mustard over both sides.

  “I think you could’ve handled it with a little more tact,” I comment with a motherly sounding tone, layering thin slices of roast beef on the roll.

  “You of all people shouldn’t be lecturing me on how to react,” she says, her mouth crammed with roast beef sandwich and a smear of mayonnaise on the corner.

  “It’s hard accepting change, but denying it completely doesn’t make it go away. It wasn’t some scandalous tryst. Our parents wanted children, but they couldn’t have any and went to someone they trusted. Caleb did it to help them. He wasn’t trying to pull one over on Marshall, so why do you treat him like a criminal?”

  “I don’t want him to replace our father.”

  I place my sandwich down, giving her my full attention.

  “He isn’t replacing anyone. No one could ever replace our father. He was the man who raised us and loved us. But we have enough room for someone new, don’t we?” I see her will breaking, but it’s still clinging on by its nails. “I’m not saying you have to love and accept him instantly, but be civil and give the guy a chance.”