A Dominant Fallen (A Dominant Series Book 2)

by Black, Lena

  “Anyway,” she continues, “We were talking about it and something shifted between us, something I’d never felt from him before. All of a sudden, we were holding one another and our lips were touching. It took us a second to realize what was happening, but once we did, we attacked one another. It was so intense.

  “Then, as quickly as it began, it was over, and he was ripping away from me. He said he couldn’t do it, he couldn’t betray you like that. It killed me, and I slapped him.”

  That explains the look of distress and confusion on his face when I walked into the living room that night.

  “It only confirms what I said…He cares about you, but he’s confused about what he feels for me.” I take a deep breath. “We had talked earlier that day. After I screamed at him about what he had done with you, he told me about the night he slept over. I told him that I was happy about it as long as he didn’t treat you like every other random skank that jumped into his bed…Anyway, he told me he was attracted to you, but he wouldn’t want something to go wrong between the two of you and then screw things up for all of us.”

  “Are you ever going to speak to him again?” she inquires with a curious gleam in her eyes, twisting the ends of her blonde tresses.

  “Of course I will, but I still need time. I can’t see him right now.”

  “What about Mom?”

  “Same answer,” I retort, drinking the last of my hot cocoa. “I just feel so betrayed by her…What about you?”

  “She keeps calling me, but I tell her I don’t want to talk. She sounds torn up, and it kills me to reject her attempts of communication, but…”

  “I hear ya. I feel the same…She filled up my voicemail with pleading, heart-wrenching messages. How the hell do we go back to the way it was, when everything has changed?”

  “I don’t know,” she replies in a daze.

  Just then, Hunt comes up from behind us and says, “Are you done with your drinks, ladies?”

  “Yes,” we reply, handing him our cups, “thank you.”

  And just as quick as he appeared, he disappears into the kitchen again to finish his chores.

  I miss him.

  “He’s really amazing, Ellie,” she praises. “I’m glad you two got back together. You guys seem good for each other. You mesh well.”

  “Yeah, he’s incredible.” I nod. “I don’t know how I made it without him.”

  “So, why did you leave him?” she inquires with a baffled crease in her brow and a wrenched upper lip.

  “I’d prefer we didn’t go into that.”

  “Oh, come on, tell me.” I shake my head rapidly. “Why not?”

  I sigh. “Because, I wouldn’t want it to get back to Mom. It would devastate her.”

  “I promise I won’t tell her. Besides, it’s kinda hard to blab when I’m not even talking to her. Please, tell me.”

  “Fine,” I breathe out, slouching my shoulders in defeat. “But if you tell her, I swear I will hunt you down…”

  She runs her fingers over her razor-sharp mouth, mimicking a zipping gesture. I take a deep, steadying breath before taking her through the need-to-know events leading up to our last day together, leaving out the details of our kinky bedroom escapades.

  Then, I tell her about the horrific night that took place in the very room we sit in now. I think it intensifies the chilling details, which I go through step by terrifying step. Her eyes scan the large space as she makes mental notes of where each act occurred, horror splashed across her face.

  I’m astounded at how easily it all flowed out of my mouth, as if I hadn’t even been there. Once I finish, ending at the moment I stepped out of the lobby doors, she cries, “Oh, my god, Ellie…I had no…Where is Dante now?”

  She throws an arm around my shoulder, rubbing my bicep with her hand.

  “I don’t know,” I answer honestly, “But, I have a feeling Hunt may. He’s been really secretive, and I think it’s about Dante…Whatever’s going on, it isn’t good.”

  “Why wouldn’t he tell you? Don’t you have a right to know?”

  “He’s protective of me,” As I say this, I get a chill up my spine, which is odd considering it’s toasty warm. Suddenly, I feel Hunt, his eyes watching me. I turn my head back toward the dining room, but I find only empty, quiet space. “Can we change the subject? I’m getting the creeps.”

  “Yeah, of course, whatever you want…Would you like to talk about Caleb?”

  “Agh, no,” I complain.

  “How are we going to deal with Caleb…Dad…whoever the fuck he is?”

  “Beats me,” I shrug.

  “Well, whatever we do, we do it together,” she replies.

  “Together,” I repeat, taking her free hand and squeezing it tight.

  “Do you miss him?” she asks, and I can hear the tears in her voice.

  “Yes,” I mutter, “terribly.”

  “Me too,” she says, the tears straining her words slightly, as she places her head on my shoulder. “I miss him so damn much, Ellie.”

  She begins to cry on my shoulder, and I can’t hold back any longer. My tears fall liberally over my cheeks, dripping into her hair as we hold each other close, taking solace in our common pain.

  By the time Maya leaves, the sun has begun to set into the ocean, saying goodnight to another day. I kiss her goodbye and see her off, waving like a fool as the elevator doors shut between us. I think back on the past several hours, and how I’ve missed Hunt. He had checked in on Maya and me a few times, to make sure we had whatever we needed, a drink, food, anything. He was attentive without being overly so.

  It’s been a long, emotional day, and all I want to do is crawl into bed with Hunt, make love, maybe watch some TV, and then fall asleep in each other’s arms.

  As I walk upstairs, I hear his voice coming from behind his closed study door. He’s yelling. I creep nearer, attempting to listen in on what he may be screaming about, but the door is thick and all I hear are the mumbled ranting of a mad man. Suddenly, it stops, and I hear a hard slam, followed by heavy footsteps coming toward the door.

  I try to run, but it’s too late, I’ve been caught snooping. Hunt stares at me, stunned, but it gradually morphs into anger.

  “Gabrielle,” he gently growls, “What did you hear?”

  I am frozen, trembling before him like a little, wide-eyed Chihuahua.

  “Nothing,” I whimper, “I didn’t hear anything.”

  Abruptly, the raging fire burning in his eyes extinguishes itself, becoming only a dim flicker.

  “Elle, I’m so sorry, angel,” he softly whispers, taking me into his arms. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. Please, forgive me.”

  I wrap my arms about his lean waist, holding him close to me, smelling that intoxicating scent that calms my nerves and heightens my desire all at once. “It’s okay, slick. I get that you’re under a lot of stress right now. I just wish you would let me in, let me help you.”

  “I could say the same about you, Elle.”

  “What do you…You were listening to my conversation with Maya, weren’t you?”

  “No, not all of it,” he replies truthfully.

  “Just the part about Dante.” I finish for him.

  “Yes, and I want to know how you could sound so disconnected when you speak of these things that have happened to you. Why won’t you deal with everything that has occurred? Why won’t you let me in, Gabrielle?”

  “I’m terrified, okay?!” I shout back and tears trickle from my eyes. I cross my arms and begin to silently weep. He grabs me up into his arms and places his cheek atop my head, rubbing my back in a soothing motion until the crying stops.

  He pinches my chin between his thumb and finger, tenderly lifting my face up. He stares down at me with that conflicted air and then quickly diverts us away from the subject. “I’m going to make us dinner, and I want you to get in the shower and get ready.”

  “Get ready? Get ready for what?” I ask, perking up a bit.

 
; “It’s a surprise,” he answers with a sweet, soft smirk on his face.

  “Well, if it’s a surprise, how will I know what to wear? I wouldn’t want to overdress.”

  “I don’t think that will be a problem.” He kisses me on the tip of my nose.

  “I was hoping we could stay in tonight.” He can hear the disappointment in my voice.

  “Elle, trust me.” I take a deep breath and shake my head weakly. “That’s my girl. Now, go take a nice, long shower and everything you need will be lying on the bed when you finish. I will be waiting for you in the main room when you’re done. Clear?”

  “Yes, crystal.”

  “Excellent.” He releases me, and I stand there for a moment, waiting for what, I’m unsure. “Go ahead.”

  He gently spins me around and taps me on the butt, sending me on my way.

  After buffing and shining myself from head to toe, I head back into the bedroom, and just as Hunt said there would be, this evening’s getup has been laid out on the bed for me. It’s a black taffeta gown, strapless, with a sweetheart neckline, fitted bodice, and a curve-hugging fit. It’s simple yet elegant.

  Lying next to my gown is a corset, garter belt, and stockings, all black, but no panties. I realize what he means by this, as he never misses a detail, especially one that involves my panties.

  He’s probably saving himself the trouble of having to rip them off. Damian Hunt, Pantie Killer. This thought perks me up. I wonder what he has in store for me tonight.

  I walk over to the bed and grab the contents placed neatly atop it, taking them into the closet with me to get ready for my night of surprises.

  Once I’ve applied the last coat of make-up and pinned the last of my wavy hair in place, I take a long scan in the bathroom mirror, studying the strange woman I see before me. I make sure my make-up isn’t plastered on and my half up half down do is in order. Flawless.

  Shit, Maya and Hunt were right about my appearance, I do appear smaller.

  The gown that would’ve been snug on me a few months ago, feels a bit loose now. As I stare blankly at my altered image, I hear the faint sound of music coming from downstairs, my cue to join him for dinner.

  I sigh heavily and exit the bathroom, nervous and excited. I’m actually becoming anxious about sleeping with Damian, as if it were our first time. Maybe it’s just jitters from not being together for so long, an eternity it seems, or the constant turn of events hindering us from consummating our newly mended relationship, building it up to nerve-wracking expectations. I shake it off.

  I walk out of the bedroom and down the hall, the music growing louder as I near the top of the stairs. When I arrive, I pause to stare at Hunt, my dark prince, looking downright awestruck, his penetrating green gaze fixed on me. A look I return, as I take in the vision of male beauty in his black tuxedo, chocolaty brown hair slicked back, and a pearly white grin.

  He’s standing next to a small square table with a black tablecloth, two long tapered candles, and a short bouquet of brilliant purple lilies in the center.

  I slowly make my way down to him, being careful not to trip in my white six-inch heels, but never taking my eyes off him. I gradually make it to the bottom step, where he meets me with an extended hand. I take it, grateful for the help, and he leads me over to the set-up, pulling out my chair.

  I lower into my seat and gaze out at the glittering view beside us as Hunt slides me toward the table.

  “Thank you, Damian. This is lovely.”

  “You’re welcome, angel. You are absolutely remarkable. I’m in awe,” he replies, handing me a flute of champagne, still standing over me. “Excuse me.”

  He turns around and heads into the kitchen, returning with two plates a moment later, which he places on the table near one another. I skim the contents of my plate, ten large prawns on a bed of wild rice with a side of snow peas, which smells oh-so-delicious. It makes my mouth water.

  Hunt sits in the chair adjacent to mine, directly facing the glass wall, as close to me as he can get without me sitting in his lap. He picks up his champagne and holds it out, gazing deep into my eyes. “A toast, to us and the special evening ahead.”

  I clink my glass with his, feeling that anxious sensation again.

  “To us,” I repeat, bringing it to my mouth and taking a slow draw of liquid gold. He sets down his glass and proceeds to cut one of my prawns in half. “Hunt, you don’t have to feed me every meal. I appreciate the gesture, but I would like to feed myself.”

  He stares at me for a moment, noticeably hurt by my statement. “I want to take care of you, nourish you, love you.”

  “You do,” I pause for a second. “Fine, then, I get to feed you, too.”

  He shoots me a big, cheek-spreading grin. “Yes, I would enjoy that.”

  I pick up my fork, stab the fattest half of the prawn, and hold it up to his lips. He parts them slightly, and I slide the tasty, pink morsel in, which he snatches up with his teeth and chews slowly. When he finishes, he slices into the largest crustacean on his plate, holds it up to my mouth, and slips it in. Right on cue, the instant the succulent meat touches my tongue, I moan with delight. His superb cooking never ceases to amaze me. In fact, he cooks almost as well as he fucks.

  “Mmmm,” I moan appreciatively, “you’re truly gifted.”

  “I’m so glad you enjoy,” he replies, reaching for my hand and bringing it to his lips. “I only wish to please you…Do I please you, Gabrielle?”

  The way he utters those last words, the way he caressed them with his tongue calls to something deep inside me, something primal. I catch a sinister gleam in those pools of emerald, a look I haven’t seen since our last night together, since our session after the party. I spot Hunt radiating from his eyes as they watch me from under those thick, black lashes, framed by his dark, manicured eyebrows, and I shudder.

  I manage to collect myself enough to say, “Yes, Hunt, you do…greatly.”

  “You please me, too, Gabrielle.” There’s something in the way he keeps saying my name that causes me to mentally stand at attention and physically tremble.

  I’m becoming restless again, so I move the conversation in another direction. “Where are we going tonight?”

  He seems to notice what I’m doing and smiles his cocky grin, leaning back into his chair and rolling the stem of the flute between his fingers. “It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you what I have planned for you, would it?”

  “No,” I reply, sinking back into my chair, “but as you’ve probably noticed by now, I’m not one for surprises.”

  “Why do you think I do it?” His tone is a tad arrogant but still playful.

  “Because you know it tortures me,” I reply with a light-hearted smirk.

  He leans in, lifting the hem of my floor-length skirt and places his hand midway up my thigh, rubbing the inner most part with his thumb. “You look lovely in this gown. Do you like it?”

  “Yes,” I whisper, my voice small from the hypnotized state his thumb is putting me under, “I love it.”

  His hand creeps higher, kneading the silk stocking covered flesh, never stopping his ascent. He finally reaches the bare skin above the lace top, inserting his finger between the delicate fabric and soft flesh, running it back and forth at a ridiculously slow pace. This repeated act, so close to my exposed slit, makes me very alert to his seductive presence.

  Finally, I feel the gentlest graze across my moist lips, and I whimper quietly, grasping the sides of my seat cushion.

  “I see you got the message,” he purrs, teasing my crease by lightly gliding his pinkie between the lips, going just deep enough to spread them slightly.

  “Yes, I did,” I answer, my head rolling back.

  Oh my fuck, yes. I’ve missed this, his touch.

  “That’s my girl.” He rips his hand away and sucks me off the tip of his pinkie. “Now, let’s finish eating.”

  My head flies up, and I stare at him with bemusement. He picks up his fork, appearing unfazed by the
feel of my flesh beneath his fingertips, and stabs the other half of the prawn on my plate. He puts the fork to my lips and I take it, still in a daze.

  Once we finish our delicious meal and engage in some captivating conversation, we sit back and enjoy our second glass of champagne. All through dinner, we’re serenaded by the masterful compositions of the greats, currently listening to one of my favorites, ‘Clair De Lune’ by Debussy. I don’t know why, but it always reminds me of spring, innocent love, life anew.

  As I ponder this thought, Hunt sets down his glass and rises from his chair, offering a hand for me to take. I know where this is going and grasp on gently. He pulls me into his arms, but instead of sweeping me about the room in some grand display of his skills on the dance floor, he holds me close so our cheeks lightly caress, swaying us in place.

  He runs his hand along my back, tickling me down the length of my spine, and lets out an extended breath. His other arm curls about the small of my waist while mine wrap about his large back, pulling myself as close to him as humanly possible.

  We remain this way, petting and swaying, until Hunt pulls away from me. He cups my face in his hands, staring deep into my eyes.

  “I love you, Elle. I love you more than I could ever express.” My heart begins to beat rapidly and a nervous vibration rushes across my skin. “You are everything I want and will ever need…When you left me, I thought I was going to die. I mean, how could I live, when my reason to breathe just walked out on me? I’ve come to a decision that I hope you will agree to…”

  Suddenly, I become full-blown petrified, that old familiar panic ceasing me.

  He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t…He would.

  He reaches into his jacket’s inner pocket and before he can extract the mystery object, I blurt, “Damian, wait. I can’t do this.” I yank myself out of his grasp and take a step back. “I won’t marry you.”

  He appears stunned and hurt by my sharp words, but then it fades and morphs into amusement as a smirk plays across his lips.