A Dominant Fallen (A Dominant Series Book 2)

by Black, Lena

  It seems to work because Hunt notices and drops his arm from Vanessa’s. She glances at him, confused by his action. He spots her befuddled expression and says, “Gabrielle, this is Vanessa, an old friend. Vanessa, this is Gabrielle…”

  “The girlfriend,” I interrupt with an overly enthusiastic grin, but on the inside, I’m screaming and stomping my feet.

  Brooke murmurs under her breath, “You could’ve fooled me.”

  I realize I’m not the only one who hears her snippy comment, as Hunt turns his focus on Brooke, recognizably affronted by her sudden disobedient behavior. I try to break the awkward tension, extending my hand out to Vanessa. The look of contempt on her face, the snarl on her lip as she stares at my hand makes my blood boil and my skin crawl. She takes it, squeezing tightly.

  “Yes, Gabrielle,” she says with an evident tone. She scans me up and down, studying me, judging me. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

  Oh, you bitch! Game on.

  “Vanessa, was it?” I inquire. It gets to her. I can see the distain on her smug face. “I wish I could say the same, but I’m afraid Hunt hasn’t mentioned you.”

  Hunt looks at her and then me. He appears bewildered and conflicted, and I realize that this woman may have meant more than he originally let on.

  Who is this person? Does she hold a special place in his past, his present, his heart?

  I come out of my head and spot Hunt glancing down at my arm still comfortably tucked in Wade’s. His eyes move up to mine, and he offers his hand to me. I clasp on hesitantly, taking my sudden uncertain place at his side. He flings an arm over my shoulders, glaring at Wade, and pulls me into my nook.

  “Hunt,” he introduces himself using my name for him, “Damian Hunt, and you are?”

  Wade senses his jealousy and lightly chuckles to himself, pulling Brooke into his side. “Wade Cole,” he retorts, not having to utter a word about his place or position. His possessive grip on Brooke’s small waist is enough.

  Hunt eases, quietly sighing, and leans into me.

  Suddenly, the lights flicker on and off, announcing for us to find our seats. We make our way into the opulent space, with a massive powder blue, oval ceiling and a stunning, Art Deco chandelier directly in the center.

  There is a main first floor and an extensive balcony, which narrows and extends to just over the stage. Hunt leads us to our seats at the very end of the balcony, just over the red curtained stage. Thankfully, Vanessa is nowhere near us, but, pleasantly, Brooke and Wade have seats right next to ours. I sit between Hunt and Brooke, with Wade on her other side, sloping an arm about her shoulders. We chat and laugh as we wait for the program to start.

  Hunt’s possessive hand never leaves my thigh. Brooke nudges my shoulder, nodding her head across the room. Vanessa is sitting on the balcony across the huge auditorium, glaring in our direction. I lean into Hunt, and he wraps his arm about me as he converses with Wade, clueless to my plan to piss her off. It works. Her eyes narrow and lips tighten. She’s furious. I smile to myself and then at Brooke when she giggles.

  Once everyone is seated, the lights dim to a muted level and the curtain rises, bathing the blackened theater in bright, warm light. The beautiful music of Tchaikovsky fills the space. They begin with ‘The Nutcracker’s, Dance of the Mirlitons’. The ballerinas come out and begin their entrancing, elegant series of graceful movements. They spin and twirl, leap and frolic across the stage in time with the captivating piece.

  I can feel Hunt’s eyes on me while I watch these beautiful gazelle-like creatures’ stunningly fluidic movements with delight and wonder.

  A few more compositions pass. The next is an entrancing piece, another favorite, ‘Dance of the Swans’. The soft melody fills the air with a sweetness you can almost taste. Then, the music intensifies into a much more ominous tone, which causes Hunt’s strategically placed hand to tighten about the soft flesh of my thigh as arousal overtakes him. I can feel it in his touch, in the electricity zapping through every cell of my body. The energy builds around us. I glance over at him, and he’s watching me with an overwhelming gaze that leaves me breathless. He wants me, and from the look of it, desperately.

  Why hasn’t he given into me yet? If he had, I wouldn’t be pining for him like this, with an overcoming need that causes my heart to race, palms to sweat, and core to vibrate, radiating out to the flesh I need worshipped urgently.

  Then it dawns on me, he’s punishing me for lying, for leaving him. He knows I love being spanked and hate being deprived of him. That fucker!

  I scowl to myself. Hunt must notice because he gives my thigh a firm squeeze to get my attention. I turn it on him and snatch his large hand with mine, tossing it onto his lap. He snarls at me with a low grumble deep in his throat. He slaps his hand back in place, and it makes a loud snapping noise, which causes Brooke, Wade, and a few others below to stare at us. The sting of my thigh is nothing in comparison to the humiliation of everyone’s eyes on us.

  I jump out of my seat and bolt for the entrance of the auditorium, making it out before Hunt’s large hand clamps onto my bicep, hauling me into him.

  “Let me go,” I plead. “I want to be alone.”

  I don’t look at him. I stare at anything but him, with a desperate look in my eyes, trying to find a place to make my escape. He clasps his rough hand onto my jaw, pinching my cheeks with his fingers, forcing my mouth into a pucker and my face up to his. He comes down on my lips with a ferocity that makes me dizzy. For an instant, it works, and I lose myself, but it doesn’t last long as embarrassment takes over again. I splay my hands on his wide chest and shove him as hard as I can, jolting him only slightly.

  “Gabrielle, be a good girl. You have been very naughty, and I have half-a-mind to punish you right here. Don’t test me,” he advises with an unyielding tone.

  “Haven’t you punished me enough? I’m onto you, slick!” I shout, but luckily no one’s around.

  “What are you talking about, Elle?” he asks, looking insulted. “I’ve done no such thing.”

  “You haven’t fu…You haven’t made love to me, you’ve barely touched me,” I reply a little too loudly.

  “Gabrielle, keep your voice down,” he says in low, rumbling voice, “or I will take action. You know I will.”

  I huff and squirm out of his firm grasp.

  “Angel, I’m not punishing you.” His tone is softer, appeasing. “I told you I wouldn’t deprive you of me yesterday and meant it.”

  Something calms in me, the raging anger becoming dull. “You aren’t…? Then, why haven’t you made love to me? Why don’t you want me the way I want you?”

  A look of disgust washes over his face and his upper lip curls.

  “How the fuck could you think I don’t want you? I want you more than I could ever have of you. I could fuck you all day, every day, and it wouldn’t be enough…”

  “Then, why won’t you give us what we both want?”

  “Because I need you to know that I desire you for more than your luscious body. I want to develop a connection outside of the bed. What’s the rush? Why can’t we just enjoy one another’s company?”

  “It just doesn’t make any sense…You haven’t seen me in months, felt me from the inside.” I step into him, pressing my soft curves into his hard body. “Don’t you want to fuck me?”

  He releases a long, held breath, and his lips part, readying to speak when Brooke’s voice chimes in from behind him, “Is everything alright?”

  We turn and find her standing beside Wade as patrons exit for intermission. She’s glaring at Hunt, which I believe pisses him off because he has that ‘unacceptable’ look on his beautiful face.

  “Fine,” he replies with a flat tone. They stare at one another for a moment, stone-faced. “Brooke, this doesn’t con…”

  “Brooke, would you accompany me to the ladies room? I need to freshen up,” I interrupt them before they head into an irreversibly damaging situation. I catch her attention, and she nods. We w
alk to the restroom with our arms linked.

  “Are you alright?” I ask.

  “A little shaken…I’ve never stood up to Master Hunt before. I never had to. Are you okay?” she questions, concerned.

  “Yeah…” But, even I hear the uncertainty in my voice. “No, I’m not…Hunt hasn’t made any advances since we got back together yesterday. He’s kissed me, petted me, fed me, but nothing past that. Don’t get me wrong, I love spending time with him, but…”

  “You missed him, and he’s Damian.”

  “Yes,” I breathe, relieved that I’m understood and not a sex-crazed nympho unable to control her desires. We walk into the powder room and head over to the mirrors. She pulls a lip-gloss tube out of her purse, Chanel I think, and applies it evenly across her full lips.

  “Well, his lack of advances is odd for him,” she agrees, nodding her head. “Maybe you need to do something to shake him up, get under his skin. But, what could you do?”

  We think for a moment, and then I remember the collar tucked away in my purse. I unclasp the snap and pull the solid silver symbol of submission out, holding it up for her to see.

  “Would this do the trick?” I have a pleased smirk on my face.

  Her eyes widen with excitement. “Yes! That would send him over the edge…It’s stunning. May I?” she asks, holding her hand out.

  I nod my head and pass it to her. She examines it in the light, spotting Hunt’s delicately scripted name on the side. “This is a lot nicer than mine…It was just a black leather piece with a tag that said, ‘Property of Master Hunt’. This is jewelry in comparison.”

  “He gave you one?” I hear the disappointment in my voice. She does too and shoots me a soft, friendly smile.

  “Yes, but he didn’t love me, Ellie. He loves you…Here, let me help you put this on. It could be tricky for a novice like you.” She giggles, and I smirk at her, blushing slightly.

  “Please.” I turn my back to her and the cool metal gently clamps about my neck. I hear the sound of the clasp being fastened in place, and a lump forms in my throat, which I swallow deep down into my gut. I run my trembling fingers over the chilled metal, lightly tracing his name with the tips. I feel my skin flush as a hot wave of arousal and anxiousness washes over me.

  “Let me see,” Brooke says, spinning me around to face her. “Oh, Ellie, it’s lovely. You should be proud to wear this. As much as it means you belong to him, he belongs to you.”

  She’s right. I should be proud to wear this. Besides, it is quite discreet. It does look like a piece of fashionable jewelry. But, beyond all that, I promised him on our one night in Seattle that I would follow the rules. I promised I would wear anything he obtained for me with pride.

  “So, you are the sub who’s stolen Damian’s focus,” A cold voice says from behind us. We spin around to find Vanessa glaring at me from icy eyes so cold, I feel like I’ll get frostbite.

  Brooke huffs at her. “She isn’t only his sub, and you know it. Talk to her with some respect.”

  She turns her wicked stare on Brooke, outrage painted across her face. “How dare you, sub. You should know your place when speaking to someone superior to yourself…Besides, I didn’t hear Damian address her as anything more.”

  Who does this bitch think she is?

  “There is nothing superior about you,” I growl in a low voice. “You are not our Mistress or Master or anything even resembling a decent human being. You mind your mouth or I’ll mind it for you.”

  “Who do you think you are?” she inquires, repulsed.

  “I know who I am. I am Damian’s lover, companion, and when I so choose, his sub. I am his special someone and you are nothing, a blemish on his past.” I smirk at her wickedly.

  “I’m sure Damian doesn’t feel the same.” A smug look comes over her face. “He sure didn’t feel that way when I was consoling him.”

  “You’re a fucking liar!” Brooke steps in, defending me from her paralyzing words. “He would never go to you for emotional support. You require a heart to feel emotions, something you lack greatly.”

  “I never said I did. I said I consoled him,” Vanessa retorts snidely. “The only way I know how, over and over. He seemed to forget about you real quick.”

  I’m going to vomit. The crooked, cocky smirk on her ruby-hued lips makes my skin crawl and my hair stand on end. She peers past us into the mirror and fixes her lipstick, running her pinkie under the plumpest part of her bottom lip. She smoothes out her hair and dress and then says with a sickeningly sweet, controlled tone, “You have a lovely evening.”

  She strides confidently out of the powder room with a sassy sway to her hips, leaving us to stand awkwardly gawking after her. Finally, after a long moment, we turn to one another with the stunned looks still plastered on our faces.

  “He wouldn’t do that to you, Ellie. He loves you. I saw pictures of him after you left and he was devastated. He would never do anything to jeopardize his chances of getting you back.”

  “I know…but…”

  “But, her words still put the awful thought into your head.”

  “Yes,” I reply with my face tilted down.

  Brooke grabs me by my biceps and spins me toward the mirror. “Look at your neck…What does your collar say?”

  “Hunt’s.”

  “That’s right, Hunt’s. And, nothing she says will change that. She was lying just to get your goat.”

  “Well, it worked.”

  “Are you going to ask him about it?”

  I shrug. “I already asked him if he slept with anyone and he said no. I have to trust what he tells me is true. He’s given me no reason to believe otherwise. And, he’s nothing if not honest.”

  “Yes,” she replies, nodding in agreement, “Damian was always truthful with me…Are you ready to go back out there?”

  I shut my eyes for an instant and take a deep breath. “Let’s do this.”

  She hooks her arm, offering me both physical and emotional support. I link my arm with hers and we walk out into the large crowd that has gathered. It only takes us a moment to spot Hunt standing above much of the chatting patrons, next to Wade and her. My arm clenches about Brooke’s as I stare, irritated at the conversing trio.

  “Oh, dear god,” Brooke gripes. “Should we just keep our distance?”

  Just as the last word escapes her lips, Hunt’s intense, sexually raw gaze turns on me. His eyes drift from mine down to my neck, widening.

  Chapter Eight

  Pretty Little Pictures

  The mixed look of shock and pleasure on his face is hypnotizing. He absently excuses himself, catching Wade’s attention and he follows close behind.

  Hunt makes it over to me quickly, his large strides gracefully carrying his hulking form across the massive room in double-time. He snatches me up, ripping me from Brooke’s supportive hold, and kisses me roughly on the mouth. I wrap my arms about his neck, holding him to me, taking his mouth with the same desperate vigor.

  When we break, my breathing is stressed and my cleft is pining for his touch. He’s just so damn hot; I melt in his arms. I’m not sure I’m going to make it to the end of the night. He moves his lips to my ear and whispers, “I love the necklace, angel…I can’t wait to get home and fuck the living daylights out of you.”

  I whimper and clench my thighs together as that delicious yearning ache I’ve missed comes back in full force. I peer in Vanessa’s direction, and just as I knew she would be, she’s glaring at me with utter contempt.

  What is with the possessive nutbags in his life?

  Hunt suddenly tightens around me, his fingers clawing into my lower back. I glimpse at his face and find it peering in Brooke’s direction, spotting the look of sheer disdain on her face as she sneers at Vanessa through the crowd.

  “What’s wrong, Evans?” Hunt asks, sensing something wrong in his former lover, his former sub. He doesn’t wait for an answer before he traces her gaze to Vanessa’s piercing stare.

  He turns
back to face me with an uncompromising look on his face, brows furrowed into a thick, rigid crease. “Gabrielle, I want you to answer me honestly, as I know you most certainly will…What happened in the restroom, why are you wearing your collar?”

  I look away.

  I want to tell him everything, but I don’t want to be that girl, that girl that rats on people. I don’t want to seem jealous and petty, as I know I will. Suddenly, Brooke chimes in, coming to my defense once more. “Vanessa came into the powder room and verbally attacked our Ellie. She’s vicious, Damian. You’re just too blinded by her to see it…Come on, Ellie, tell him.”

  I look up at Hunt whose eyes are boring into my face and then at Brooke.

  “I…I don’t want to go into it here…I want to go home. I can’t take this right now, not now,” I murmur the last two words, suddenly too tired to deal with this.

  Hunt pulls me away from him, an agitated gleam in his eye.

  “If you’ll excuse me, I won’t be but a moment,” he states, turning and walking away before I can protest.

  “Hunt,” I quietly call out, but he’s too far to hear me, or he’s just choosing to ignore me. He strides up to Vanessa with a determined pace, snatching up her bicep and weaving her through the crowd, out of eyeshot of Brooke, Wade, and I.

  Abruptly, Wade’s hulking form gracefully slides between me and my fading view of Hunt.

  “Come on, sweets, you need a drink,” he says, plucking a few glasses of Champagne from a passing tray and handing them out. They hold up their glasses, smiling wide, eventually causing me to do the same. “To the loveliest women in the room, perhaps all of San Francisco.”

  Brooke and I giggle, clinking glasses, then take long swigs of the chilled golden liquor. I try peeking through the crack between their shoulders, attempting to get even a glimpse of Hunt’s whereabouts. But, I can’t find him, especially when they close the gap, staring at me in that reprimanding way that Hunt has down pat. I sigh.