Serving HIM Vol. 6

by M. S. Parker

  He settled down, looking easy and comfortable in the elegant gloom of the club. Almost like he’d been there before and I wondered if he had. “Are you looking for somebody in particular?”

  “If I am, would you be feeling helpful?”

  I debated, then shrugged. I wasn’t feeling particularly kind to a lot of people at the moment. Too many of the New York elite had done nothing but piss me off lately. My mother. My father. Penelope. Then I thought of Aleena and Kowalski, of Fawna and Molly. All people who knew what it meant to work hard, laugh hard and enjoy the things around them. Enjoy the people around them without thinking just how they might use that person. Then I studied Sinclair. I'd always admired him because, for a politician, he was surprisingly straightforward and honest. He played the game because he had to, but he truly believed in what he was doing.

  “I might be feeling helpful,” I said slowly.

  “Depending on what I can offer in return?” he asked wryly. There was no cynicism in his voice. He simply knew what was expected in this world. Favors, as much as money and who you knew, made the world go around.

  “No.” I just shook my head and waited.

  He looked nonplussed for a moment and then he slowly nodded. “I hear you’re involved with somebody.” Then he smiled, the grin going cagey. “I must say, Dominic. I caught sight of your personal assistant when you two were at a lunch with the director of the Met a couple of weeks ago. That smile of hers; I’d recognize it anywhere, even without the mask.”

  Shit. I'd forgotten that Sinclair had been one of the men who'd wanted to be fixed up with Aleena after her appearance at the masquerade ball. It felt like a million years had passed since then.

  “At first, I thought you were a selfish son of a bitch, trying to keep a woman like that to yourself, but then I figured it out.”

  “There a point to this, Jefferson?” I asked, my tone bored despite the tension in my body.

  “She got to you.” He leaned forward slightly. “There’s not a lot of things in this world that can make a man like you suddenly wake up and realize there’s an entire world around him.”

  My jaw clenched and I glared at him.

  “Aw, now. Don’t go looking at me like that.” Some of the polish left his voice and for a minute, he was just an amused man, grinning at me, almost laughing. “You’re not a bad guy, Dominic. Not compared to some of those other high society dicks, but you’re still one of them.”

  “You and I run in the same circles, Jefferson,” I pointed out. “Those high society dicks helped you get elected.”

  “But I’m an outsider. Always will be.” He shrugged. “I’m the black boy who comes from new money.” He said the entire thing in the same derisive tone my mother would have used. “I graduated top of my class at Harvard, same as my dad. As a judge, he helped put away some of the worst scum this city has ever seen and he dealt with some of the worst scum you can imagine. But we've never been good enough to sit at the table with the rest of your lot, not good enough to drink from the same fountain as people like your mama.”

  “I’m not my mother,” I bit off, leaning forward and glaring at him.

  “No, and that’s why I’m sitting here talking to you.” He settled back, still smiling. “Your girlfriend…she is your girlfriend, isn’t she?”

  I blinked, staring at him. It wasn’t just the abrupt change of topic that caught me off-guard. It was that word. Girlfriend. It brought to mind teenagers going to prom. A place in a relationship that was beyond friends, but nothing as serious as settling down.

  Girlfriend didn’t even touch on what Aleena had become to me.

  For the first time, I admitted it out loud, “She’s much more.”

  “I’ll be damned,” he murmured. Then he nodded. “Good for you.”

  The phrase struck me as strange. “Good for me?”

  “Yeah. You’re good people, Dominic. And I like her, your girlfriend who’s much more than that.” Then he laughed and stood. He looked around at the people below. The club was home to some of New York’s elite. Debauched, yes. But elite. “She’s real. You want to be happy? Find a woman who’s real. That’s what my dad told me before he died.”

  He turned to go.

  “I thought you were looking for somebody,” I said to his back.

  Jefferson glanced back at me and then nodded toward the stage. “I just found him.”

  I followed his gaze, caught sight of the man who’d just led a woman in a collar, on her hands and knees, up onto the raised platform.

  “Show’s not going to happen,” he said as several people separated themselves from the crowd. Plain clothes cops, I was willing to bet. “Hope you won’t be disappointed.”

  I ran my tongue across my teeth and then looked around as the cops approached the man on the stage. My vague sense of displeasure still lingered. I was disappointed. But not because of the show.

  Shaking my head, I rose and turned to leave. When the aggravated voices rose to shouts of fury behind me, I didn’t even pause. I didn't care who the man was or why he was being arrested. I didn't care that the show was canceled.

  I only had one thing on my mind, one person, and she wasn’t here.

  The edginess, the restlessness, all of it was back, if it had ever left. The elegant depravity of Olympus seemed to mock me as I left the club behind, and I didn't give it a backwards glance. I didn't want to be there anymore.

  Chapter 3

  Aleena

  I was smiling by the time Francisco left.

  Aside from Fawna and Annette, he'd been the first to figure out things were more than just employer/employee between Dominic and I, though he hadn't said anything about it. I was a bit nervous about approaching him, wondering if he'd have a problem with the relationship.

  When I’d told him I wanted to cook dinner for the two of us, he’d given me a long, thorough look and then he’d asked, “So are we talking a burger and fries kind of dinner, or something more?”

  “More.”

  Now the penthouse was quiet and redolent with the spiced scent of the chicken dish Francisco had walked me through preparing. It had sounded incredibly complicated, but he’d laughed and assured me it wasn’t. He’d been right. The meal, once I got past the fancy name and all the fancy descriptions and tools, was incredibly easy and my belly was grumbling.

  It was also jumping.

  Figuring it couldn’t hurt, I cracked open the wine and had myself a glass as I waited. The alcohol took the edge off, but was hardly enough to relax me completely.

  It was almost six and Dominic was rarely later than that. I paced around the expansive living room, trying to find something to engage my brain so I wouldn’t think about the food, or the fact that I was nervous about seeing him.

  I didn't know why I was nervous.

  It wasn’t like I hadn’t seen him last night, or like he hadn’t spent hours over the weekend either buried inside me, wrapped around me or standing over me as he administered various forms of seductive punishment. My hand automatically went to the place on my neck where he'd marked me. My toes curled into the thick pile of the imported rug under my feet and I tipped my head back as memory rolled through me.

  The bed in the playroom had more accoutrements than I’d realized and some of them had very inventive uses. Dominic had chuckled at my wide-eyed astonishment and then he’d promised to show me some of the more unique toys he had at the house at the Hamptons.

  I had no idea what to expect, but the very idea of it made me shiver in anticipation.

  Need coiled tight and hot in my belly. I slid one hand up, cupping my left breast through the thin cotton of my sundress and the strapless bra I was wearing underneath. My nipples had already drawn tight and one tug had a pang echoing through my body, harsh and demanding. Wine splashed onto my fingers, but I didn’t care. I pinched my nipple and imagined all of the wonderful things Dominic could do to it.

  The door opened.

  Lost in the moment, I turned my head an
d gazed at Dominic through half-lidded eyes. He stared at the hand that cupped my breast as he shut the door behind him. I gave my nipple one final, slow roll and then smiled at him over the wine glass before I took another sip.

  I had one brief moment to process the flash in his eyes as he came toward me. Then, just as I went to squeeze my breast, he cupped my hand and did it for me, molding his hand to mine as his mouth came crushing down against my lips.

  The wine glass fell to the rug and the remaining few drops of liquid splashed wet against my feet and lower legs.

  He spun me around and I said his name, but he cupped his hand over my mouth.

  “Shhh…” he said, his voice harsh, rasping.

  I went quiet. The sweet, lazy daze of heat that had wrapped around me was gone, replaced by an inferno. The room tilted as he pushed me down, his hand still over my mouth. I caught myself on my hands, but sank to my elbows as he applied more pressure.

  I felt the cool caress of air as he flipped up my dress. The touch of his finger pulling aside my lace panties. Then he was inside me.

  I gasped against his palm, shuddering and twisting as I tried to accommodate him. I wasn’t ready. The light strokes I’d given my breasts had made me wet, but not wet enough. He tucked my butt against the cradle of his hips as he pulled out, then surged back in, deep and hard.

  I moaned against his hand as his thrusts drove me face down on the floor, the weight of his body heavy on my back.

  He bit the curve of my neck and then rasped against my ear, “Touch yourself, Aleena. I want you to come.”

  The angle was awful. He was huge and deep inside me, his upper thighs pinning mine close together. I had to force my hand between me and the floor, the carpet chafing painfully against my skin as he slammed into me, breath bursting from my lungs.

  There was no finesse to this. I thought I’d felt his hunger before, but…no. No, I hadn’t.

  Not until now.

  He wasn't in control and the realization sent a thrill through me.

  “Touch yourself,” he snarled again. “I want to feel you coming.”

  Pleasure burned me and I circled my clit with my fingers.

  The hand muffling my moans moved away and he propped himself up enough that he was no longer crushing me even though his body still pinned mine to the floor. He nipped at my ear, the side of my neck, my shoulder.

  “Tell me you’re mine.”

  “I’m yours.” I stroked faster, harder, feeling the heavy, furred sac of his balls slapping against me with each hard dig of his hips.

  “Tell me you love me.”

  “I love you.” The words seemed so small compared to what I felt for him. The intensity of it sometimes felt like it would overwhelm me. Shuddering, I twisted against him one more time and it brought of a rush of pleasure so all-encompassing, I thought it would end me.

  His cock swelled.

  I came and even as I felt myself clenching around him, he shouted my name, sheer uncontrolled desperation in his voice as he began to climax.

  ***

  I sat up a few minutes later, my legs still too weak to hold me if I tried to stand. I wasn't thinking about that though. Seconds after he'd come, Dominic had pulled out, making my body jerk at the sudden loss. But that hadn't been as bad as seeing him drop to the floor, his eyes empty.

  Worry overrode the pleasure I'd been feeling and I reached out to touch his cheek. Before I could, he caught my hand and stared at me. Suddenly, a look of abject horror flooded his features and he scrambled backwards so fast, it left my head spinning.

  “Don’t,” he said, choking the word out.

  “Dominic—”

  “Don’t!” This time, he shouted it and he was shaking. His eyes were wide and filled with self-loathing. “Fuck, Aleena…I just…how can you stand there like that after what I just did?”

  I moved towards him slowly, not understanding. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Dominic. What did you just do?”

  “I threw you to the floor and…” He tripped over the words and as I watched, he backed into the wall, shaking his head the entire time. “I…”

  “You didn’t do anything I didn’t want.”

  His eyes hardened and he gave me an icy stare. It was the stare I’d seen his mother give. Pretty impressive, really. “You like being thrown on the floor, somebody’s hand silencing you, Aleena? I guess I’ve been topping you all wrong.”

  “Don’t,” I said firmly as I closed the distance between us. I thought I understood. “Don't you dare.”

  I reached out and put my hand on his cheek. When he tried to jerk away, I went with him. His eyes were wild, but I knew he wasn’t seeing me when I leaned close to kiss his cheek, his jaw, his lips. His entire body was tense, shaking. His hands clenched into fists.

  I got it now.

  “You’re not him.” I spoke slowly and clearly so there'd be no mistake. “And I’m not you. I don’t mind playing rough, Dominic. And we both know if you’d been hurting me, really hurting me, you would have stopped.”

  He still didn’t say anything. I slid my arms around him, ignoring the stiffness of his body. I pressed his head against my chest and stroked his hair, my heart breaking for him. I held him for several long minutes, and would have continued to do so if the timer from the stove hadn't chimed.

  The first time, I just ignored it, but it did it again and he slowly stirred, like a man rousing from a deep sleep. He raised his head. “If that’s food, you should take it out,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Before it burns.”

  I looked down and saw that he was staring at me, his eyes haunted.

  “I made you dinner,” I told him softly.

  An expression I couldn’t quite recognize flickered across his face. His eyes bounced around for an endless time and then returned to me. Finally, he brushed a stray lock of hair from my face and nodded. “If you made me dinner, we should eat it.”

  I released him and got to my feet, keeping my face carefully blank as I felt his seed running down my leg. Anything that reminded him of what we'd done might set him off again. I held out a hand.

  His gaze flicked to the spot on the floor.

  “Dominic,” I said his name gently, coaxing him back to me.

  He looked at me and took my hand, letting me help him to his feet.

  “Go get cleaned up and I'll get the food.” I released his hand and headed into the kitchen, ignoring the way my pussy was throbbing from how hard he'd driven into me. I felt his eyes on me as I disappeared around the corner and I wondered what had happened to him today.

  ***

  I didn’t say anything throughout dinner. I didn’t want to disturb the peace, or his fragile state of mind. The silence wasn't uncomfortable between us, but there was a distance. It wasn't cold or angry, but I could tell that he was still distracted. What we'd done had taken his mind off of it for a short while, but he was thinking again.

  Later, as we sat on the couch, I leaned against his chest, my fingers tracing patterns on his thigh. His arms were around me, solid and reassuring, but the motion of his thumb brushing across my knuckles was almost absent.

  I wanted to ask. I needed to ask. I needed to know what was going on inside his head and what had him so grim, but I wasn't sure how to broach the subject. Maybe, I thought, he just needed to relax a bit more. Maybe in a less...aggressive way.

  I sat up and turned towards him. He was already staring at me, his gaze troubled and intense.

  I managed a lopsided smile that I was sure did nothing to hide the way my heart skipped a beat. Before I could second-guess myself, I asked, “Do you want to take a bath with me?”

  “A bath?” He looked startled by the suggestion.

  “Yeah.” I reached up and lightly traced his lower lip with my fingertip. His mouth twitched when I did it and I laughed softly.

  Dominic Snow, billionaire, control freak, was ticklish.

  I repeated the caress and he caught my wrist, glowering at me. My heart gave a
nother funny little leap.

  “A bath,” I said again. “You know, water in a tub. A hot, lazy bath.” I put my free hand on his chest, reveling at the feel of the muscles beneath his shirt. My chest tightened. Damn, I loved his body. I gave myself a mental shake. I couldn't get distracted. I smiled at him. “Somebody had fun with me this weekend. My body’s still kind of achy.”

  “Somebody, huh?” He slid his hand down my arm, around my shoulder and then up my spine, curving it around my neck. His skin was hot against mine. “Yeah. We can take a bath.”

  He leaned over and flipped up the arm on the couch. I watched as he punched in a few buttons then I rolled my eyes. He cocked his eyebrow in an unspoken question.

  “It’s too complicated to just get up and go to your room and run the water, huh?” I teased.

  “The whole point of designing a home with things like a remote control bath is so you can start running the water from anywhere,” he countered. He smiled, but it still didn't reach his eyes.

  I shook my head. Both he and Fawna had shown me the ‘smart house’ attributes when I moved in, but I had to be honest. I didn’t see the point in poking a few buttons when it was just as easy, in my opinion, to walk to the bathroom and turn a knob. That way, I could make sure I had the temperature right. I didn’t know if one hundred and two degrees would feel all that great unless I sat in it. Then again, I supposed this was another instance of trusting him to know what the right temperature would be.

  He rose and held out a hand. I took it and we cut through the kitchen, stopping so he could get a glass of scotch while I poured more wine. Then we started toward the tub, the big, sunken one in his private bathroom.

  My heart was in my throat the entire way.

  We undressed ourselves in silence as the water stopped. I gestured towards the tub and he climbed in. I allowed myself to admire the long, lean lines of his body as he sat down, the water coming halfway to his chest. He looked at my body as I stepped into the tub, but he didn't meet my eyes. Tension turned his muscles to knots as I straddled his lap and looped my arms over his shoulder. Despite our nudity, his cock was soft beneath me. His hands held my hips as his eyes held mine and he sat there. Waiting.